My mother is a true artist. She sees everything as aesthetically pleasing or displeasing and takes painstaking time arranging things. I know this because, growing up she would call on me to move the larger pieces of furniture around the room until they were just right – a task that would take no less than an hour or so. Her mind works like this too… very complex. It has taken years to learn to read her.
My father is a true pragmatist. He once got really angry with me for doing a jig-saw puzzle because he thought it was nothing but a waste of time. He would stop total strangers on the street and tell them if they are doing something inefficiently or incorrectly. Throughout the nineties he continued to wear clothes from the seventies (wide collars, floral prints, polyester…) because they were well-made and not yet worn out. He is very simple and straight-forward.
All this came to a head one day when my mom was fed up with my dad’s wardrobe. She placed all his “classic” clothes in a garbage bag, telling him that she wanted to get them dry cleaned. Right next to that garbage bag, she put a garbage bag full of actual garbage by the front door. Then she went into the kitchen and called for unsuspecting me. She then asked me to please take out the garbage out to the curb for the trash-men. I dutifully obliged and proceeded to take both garbage bags out to the curb. A few days later, my father asked my mother if his clothes are back from the cleaners. She got this “surprised” look on her face and said that she totally forgot, but that she hadn’t seen the bag since she left it by the door a few days prior. This was when I unknowingly took the bullet for my mom as I explained that I thought both bags were garbage. It wasn’t until years later she finally admitted that it was all a ruse and I was the pawn. Oh well, at least my dad’s wardrobe is much improved.
My mother is a singer – the only true one in our family – and loves to perform for people. She sang for a few years under the direction of the legendary Robert Shaw when she sang soprano for the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra Choir. I never see her happier than when she is singing. It never gets old for her, and she inspires me. I remember growing up having to go to voice coaching sessions and choir practices. I think I got really accustomed to her singing voice and thus really didn’t appreciate it. I sometimes wish that I could hear her singing with an ear that has never heard it before so I can hear what others hear in it.
My father is a teacher. He comes alive when he is leading a bible study. You think your parents gave you long lectures when you did something wrong? With my father I literally felt as if he wanted me to take out a notebook and pencil as he diagramed the mechanics of my wrongdoing. He used to teach Sunday school for high school and college students, and he would have them over at our house all the time. I guess some things never change.