I am not sure when it happened. At some point I became an adult. At 39 I do not feel like I am close to being 'over the hill.' I feel like a child inside. Growing up with eleven brothers and sisters was very entertaining. Mom made up for it by adopting us. Mom had nine babies lost two and adopted five of us. She never lied about her ability to love us as she did her 'homegrown' and told us from the beginning she did not make us but she loved us just the same. That has bonded me tighter to my mom since meeting my own birth mother. It frightened me that I had room in my heart to love my biological mother just the same in the few days I spent with her. The bond was instant. I had to shove her out of my life because I just could not do it. My Mom is my Mom. She raised me, and cared for me. When I returned home from that trip was the only time in my life I ever saw my strong, unemotional mother vulnerable. She sat by me as we the pictures and discussed the immediate resemblements. I saw the worry and had to reassure her without hesitation that she was my mom and no other.
My mom was a stay at home mother. She loved it and felt exhausted by it. My father worked long hours and was rarely around. He was an appraiser among many other hats he wore. My parents taught me common sense, and to excel at what I put my mind to. They praised my work. Mom kissed my boo boos, and said it would be alright. I could afford to take some risks because they were there supporting me and being available if I needed it.
We lived in a big white house on Chain Bridge Road. I lived at a three and a half acre, and what I call an estate. It was a ten bedroom, seven bathroom, and two basements. One was a rec room with a pool table and for a time a full size air hockey table that my siblings and friends had tournaments with. We had a pool and a gigantic yard that was self contained as far as playing was concerned our long driveway ran straight to the back of the house and off to the right side in front of the house was a parking circle for my fathers Fleet wood Cadillac. The yard was full of azalea's that made our corner of the world famous every spring when the flowers were in full bloom. My parents would take pride when someone would show up and ask for a tour of the yard, or ask if they could marry there. My older brother Nick and his wife Brenda had their reception there. Once or twice a photographer would show up with and without a journalist. My younger sister Betsy and I had our picture on the front page of Fairfax Journal with us backed into a bush to show the surrounding flowers.
When my father died the Journal did a piece on him for his philanthropic work and general greatness. He was a tough man. He seemed to know everything. He was intelligent and educated. There was not much about business, law or anything he did not know. I got to the point where I stopped asking questions to my mom because she would say, 'I do not know go ask your father'. He always knew just how to manage a crisis. He would go into to action mode and It just made me feel safe knowing he was handling things. He had a great heart and did everything in his power to help anyone in need kids, family members, and outsiders who came to rely on Dad. Sometimes too often he would give money. If he had it and someone else could get out of a jam he would give it away. It at times seemed unfair. My father taught me above all else to be generous with yourself to others not just monetarily, but if there is something that could be done ... do it. He taught me not to depend on others to support me. He taught me that if you do not know the answer it is up to you to find out the answer. That is my responsibility. Education is the way. He would push education. He said he would pay for as far as I wanted to go.
My mom was our protector and keeper of the roost daily. She held down the fort and managed to run the real estate rental company. She encouraged our imaginations and told us to play outside as often as possible and rain or shine. "Go puddle jumping" she said. She read to us when she was not to exhausted. She read for pleasure when she could. She encouraged us to read and has to this day hundreds of books that she would pick up for us to read. She made sure we did not lack in this one pleasure that is critical for everyone. My father built (or rather paid to have built) an outdoor Avery that she loved and spend a lot of time in with finches, parakeets, and the like. She would bring in baby birds to hand train and sell. When they were ready for homes up would go a sign on one of the big trees out front. It was a successful side business until it dented the income of a local pet shop who contact the authorities and put a stop to it because Mom did not have the every up to code. Mom was upset. Mom is NEVER one to show emotion. You could see it in her eyes.
Mom taught us humility, grace, how to eat at the dinner table, manners, morals, rights, wrongs, not to suffer to defeat, rather how to over come defeat. She knew how to raise children. She knew how to without raising her voice or swearing, unlike my father who taught me my tacky mouth I still use. She got mad at Betsy and I one day and I will never forget it. I still retell it to anyone if the topic comes up. She said,"Hell's bell's and little fishes." Bets and I were stunned. We both looked at each other and shouted in a slow shocked drawl,"Mom!" We all stopped arguing and left the room knowing we went to far. When we started school and left our corner of the world Mom was our defender at school, and the one who would readily admit to school or parents if we were wrong and punished us for our actions because we knew. I did push the limits. She did let us acknowledge humility and defeat. How were we to learn other wise. It would pass with her gentle but firm words of wisdom, "Wait till your father gets home." That would make all of us kids tremble with fear because we knew without a doubt that something severe was heading our way to learn from our mistakes.
