Yesterday was el dia de los muertos - a Latino custom of honoring those who have died. They say prayers and tie kites to the gravestones (all brightly painted... their graveyards look like happy places...) so that the souls of those who died can find their way to heaven. It is such a lovely thought to me. Our culture does not honor the dead and does not honor the aged. Little thought is given to those who have passed on. "Moving on" becomes the mantra of family members. "Survival of the fittest" is how our society looks on death of our loved ones. Yet who we are is found in the bones of the family members who formed us, taught us, mentored us and passed on. They are the very foundation of our lives as we become the foundation of our children and grandchildren....aka the circle of life!
So I am writing a tribute to a very special woman, Iola Osborne.
I read a tribute to my Mother-in-law very recently that flooded my heart with memories. She was a bit of an anomaly to me. She invested in me but did not wish for me to call her Mom. I could not call her Iola, having been taught to not call my elders by their first names...and so it made us have an awkward dance that kept a space between us. She definitely mentored me and yet kept me at a very arms length away, but she loved the children unconditionally. She had lots of short comings... but she also had many strengths. I think of her as a very strong woman. It was easy to just look at the dirty house but when you talked to her you found out she was always reading wonderful thought provoking books and as an old woman she always was reframing her life and her memories in the culture she tried to escape. She spent great time with me teaching me the job of "mothering" and encouraging me. I learned to nurse my children because of her relaxing encouragement. Had she not taken that time, I would have missed one of the most rewarding parts of motherhood. She was tender and amazing with the grandbabies. She would read them stories by the hour and let them play with most anything they wanted. Often I would not approve and she believed she trumped my disapproval. It is funny to me now.
Before my marriage she tried to talk me out of it.... which went right over my head but my Mom was very struck by it. She said my husband was her hardest kid, her wildest boy. The amazing thing is that all her boys were sensitive boys, and loving boys. I think that came from their Mom. No matter what happened to her children, what they did, who they hurt, how they acted... they were her children. As a Mom now of grown children, I often think about her example. Overtly and loudly and clearly, her children were her children and there was never one moment of doubt about her loyalty. I like that.
My mother-in-law could cook. It seems that her husband did most of the meat, barbecuing and roasting. But she made the most excellent side dishes. She melted cinnamon candies into the hot applesauce and cooked green beans and squash and made the best smashed potatoes. I still like them out of the box but hers were the first I ever had that came from real potatoes. All the shortcuts I grew up with in cooking were just a hidden part of the Osborne household. She knew how to do all my Mom's shortcuts. For years and years and years, I believed that Mrs. Smith was her mysterious next door neighbor and always loved to contribute pies to our family meals. Since piecrusts and I are not friends, Mrs. Smith was always my idol and then to find out she never existed!
And the Osborne mealtimes were such unique experiences. Their favorite thing was to argue. They debated just for the heck of debating and I was a young 18 year old who was going to vote for the very first time and to the horror of the Osborne family, I was the only democrat in the room. It was a tough seat for me. But the objective was to argue not to change anyone. During these heated debates that were punctuated with passing the salad, my sweet mother-in-law stood back in the kitchen and served her family. It was soooooo frustrating to me to see her do that. Yet was soooooo cultural to her to serve her family and it was probably the safest place to be. What I thought was demeaning, she was simply serving her family.
Her Indian heritage was a source of pride in her later years but it was a source of bad childhood memories. She talked often of growing up and being sent to the Indian boarding schools where the Creek Indians were discriminated against. They were not the best looking by our culture standards... broad noses, protruding teeth compared to the Cherokee and some of the other tribes. (I always think of her as a very beautiful woman because she loved her family fiercely and she loved her children...it showed on her face). In school they were mistreated and later as she met a dashing young man named Garland Osborne at a very young age... she grabbed her ticket out of Oklahoma and went as far as she could.
She had her first child and raised him for 18 months while her husband was away at war. I think about the strength it would take to do just that and am humbled at the easy life I have had in comparison. Poor little Richard had to come to terms with a soldier who walked into his life one day. What times those were! They raised their children around Oakland and Hayward California. There could be much to say here but it is all other people's memories.
I just do remember our relationship and how much she shared with me and how I learned that love does not have to be reciprocated. We each love with what we have. In many ways having Iola in my life brought me closer to my own mother. We are all women with histories and baggage and shortcomings and strengths and we must pass on the parts of us that make us valuable to others. It is weird to think that our shortcomings might make us valuable but sometimes they make us vulnerable to others and that alone is valuable. Chew on that!
If I was a good Mom, Iola Osborne is partly responsible. Certainly my own mother and my aunts and my grandmothers and great-grandmothers, too had great influence. But they are from the same branch. The Osborne's introduced so many new things to me. Iola touched me and encouraged me and showed me another way of living.. so different from my upbringing, foreign but freeing. I am better because of her. DKU
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