"The thing about Moms and Food"
By Deborah Dunham
While I was at the grocery store today picking up a few odds and ends, I passed an end cap display of stuffing mix. It was the brand I
usually use and it made me nostalgic for the Thanksgiving dinner I would not be making this year for my family. For a moment, I seriously
considered my son’s plea, from a previous year, to “make stuffing at least” and ship it to him. Of course I don’t have time for that but…
I began to think of my mother. I never could understand why, after I’d moved away from home and would visit, my mom seemed intent on
stuffing me with food. I’d come over and visit my mom all fresh and dewy from my “new” eating regimen. Perhaps I was eating vegan or
was in a full blown vegetarian high. Regardless of how tactfully I’d tell my mother how “we” (my boyfriend or husband and kids) ate
BEFOREHAND she STILL always had prepared tons of sausages and biscuits (if it was breakfast) or REALLY went for the big PORK
CHOPS and gravy if it was dinner.
Once confronted with the food I’d politely mention that this was “different” from our home foods and try to skirt the issue, pick around the
"offending" foods and eat the vegetables only but ultimately could not do anything less than eat the food that she placed in front of us after
looking at her sad face. I’d get home and rant (out of earshot of the kids) about how she was trying to destroy me.
My mom had grown up in the south and brought her cooking and eating habits to Brooklyn where I was raised. Of course I loved my
mother’s cooking growing up. Every child does. But over the years, on my own, I had grown away from the heavy, if delicious, foods. I’d
begun to re-educate myself and this education created a growing distance between my mother’s food realities and mine.
Until today, I would have said that “all that” was totally unimportant. Until today. I realized, today, that once a mother has raised her child
and her job is done she still wants to contribute “something”, “anything” to that child. Realities change and she knows that but there were
things about which they both agreed at one time and generally that at least can be food.
After 55 years, I finally understood. My mother cooks the foods I so loved, as a child, as a way of sharing pleasure moments. She doesn’
t have any other link to share with me. Time being what it is and separation adding change as well she feels that she can bring
us back to where we shared a reality about food.
I understand all too well now. I know for CERTAIN that my children come home for Thanksgiving for the family closeness and their
favorite foods which though we all may eat differently during the rest of the year, we eschew “all that” for the one night to be “together”
again.
by Deborah Dunham
By Deborah Dunham
While I was at the grocery store today picking up a few odds and ends, I passed an end cap display of stuffing mix. It was the brand I
usually use and it made me nostalgic for the Thanksgiving dinner I would not be making this year for my family. For a moment, I seriously
considered my son’s plea, from a previous year, to “make stuffing at least” and ship it to him. Of course I don’t have time for that but…
I began to think of my mother. I never could understand why, after I’d moved away from home and would visit, my mom seemed intent on
stuffing me with food. I’d come over and visit my mom all fresh and dewy from my “new” eating regimen. Perhaps I was eating vegan or
was in a full blown vegetarian high. Regardless of how tactfully I’d tell my mother how “we” (my boyfriend or husband and kids) ate
BEFOREHAND she STILL always had prepared tons of sausages and biscuits (if it was breakfast) or REALLY went for the big PORK
CHOPS and gravy if it was dinner.
Once confronted with the food I’d politely mention that this was “different” from our home foods and try to skirt the issue, pick around the
"offending" foods and eat the vegetables only but ultimately could not do anything less than eat the food that she placed in front of us after
looking at her sad face. I’d get home and rant (out of earshot of the kids) about how she was trying to destroy me.
My mom had grown up in the south and brought her cooking and eating habits to Brooklyn where I was raised. Of course I loved my
mother’s cooking growing up. Every child does. But over the years, on my own, I had grown away from the heavy, if delicious, foods. I’d
begun to re-educate myself and this education created a growing distance between my mother’s food realities and mine.
Until today, I would have said that “all that” was totally unimportant. Until today. I realized, today, that once a mother has raised her child
and her job is done she still wants to contribute “something”, “anything” to that child. Realities change and she knows that but there were
things about which they both agreed at one time and generally that at least can be food.
After 55 years, I finally understood. My mother cooks the foods I so loved, as a child, as a way of sharing pleasure moments. She doesn’
t have any other link to share with me. Time being what it is and separation adding change as well she feels that she can bring
us back to where we shared a reality about food.
I understand all too well now. I know for CERTAIN that my children come home for Thanksgiving for the family closeness and their
favorite foods which though we all may eat differently during the rest of the year, we eschew “all that” for the one night to be “together”
again.
by Deborah Dunham
Page created 11/8/08
