Ha! That makes it seem like she needed me emotionally or something profound like that.
No, she needed me to help her look for some conference papers.
She claimed to need these papers for some seminar she was teaching on Wednesday. If she didn't find them, she said, she didn't know what she was going to teach the students.
I helped her.
We found so much shit. So many photos of me. So many naked photos of me. It's remarkable how much as a child I walked around with my goods hanging out. Not that, at four and a half, you really have much.
She took on the left side of the pile, while I took on the right. We dug through old papers, old invoices, old receipts, and finally, old photos. Really old photos. Some of them dating to the 20's, 30's and 40's. At this point, both of us had forgotten about the crucial conference papers, and were engrossed in the array of memorabilia that surrounded us. My mother was mumbling to herself, chuckling, and stroking pictures. She had entered nostalgia-land. I, on the other hand, was fascinated by all the things I was finding. My mom had photos of her and all of her old lovers in Europe from back when Italy's currency was still the lira. She had photos of her dogs . Her sisters ( who I've only met once), and all of her old roommates from the YMCA in Rome.
Then, I came across something amazing.
There was an envelope marked "FILM".
I opened it.
And in it, I found this.
I asked her what it was.
"Oh", she said, very nonchalantly."That was me in this Egyptian Newspaper. Paolo, I think you met him, had this friend named Durra from Egypt. They were making some short film together protesting Anwar Sadat's election, and they needed a woman to act in it without being paid. School was out, and I was working at some shit seamstress down in Eur. I agreed to do it, and this is a little article about it in the arts section of some Cairo newspaper"
I thought it was so amazing. She laughed at me a little for being so astounded.
My mother is so annoying. She is absolutely incessant about the most insignificant things. She bothers me, and nags me , and pesters me for not putting the forks in the dishwasher the correct way.
But, in her own way, she is amazing. She's lived so many places( Rome, Cadiz, Munich, Madrid, Barcelona, Eur, Hara' Fa La Fontera, Jesi ) She's known so many people. She knows everything about history, art, music, and literature. She despises gadgets such as computers and TV, but instead would rather paint or read or study. I strive to be like her.
I very seldom speak about her in any depth. When I write about my mother here, on this little blog that so few people know about, I write about my biological one. The one who has, for all intensive purposes, disappointed me.
Sometimes, I believe I get so wrapped up in the negative, that I forget about what I have gained.
This newspaper clipping, and all the other photos of her, introduced me to someone I had never met before. Someone who wasn't just " Amanda's mother" , and " Neils Ex-wife" and "owner of the happy dog, skipper". She is someone mysterious, and someone...cool.
My mother? Cool? I think the humidity is making me go crazy.
