Mary, she was such
a twinkle
by Marge Vallazza
My mother was a Scotswoman
transplanted by her marriage to my Mexican-American G.I. dad from her
beloved homeland to the desert southwest. In time she grew to love her
adopted homeland and the family she married into.
After almost 4 years
of marriage, she gave birth to her first daughter, Lizzie, and, almost
exactly a year later, to wee Maggie. We two girls were as different
as night and day. I turned my mother's world upside down, day was night
and night was playtime! Mom would rock me to sleep with Scottish songs,
like "I belong to Glesga! dear old Glesga toon" or "Bonnie
Scotland, I adore thee!" and hushed my cries with her own homesick
tears. However, one way she
kept her homesickness at bay was with her cooking.She raised us on solid
Scottish food, porridge for breakfast (the kind with salt and milk with
no sugar added), Welsh rarebit, "neep and tatties" (mashed
rutabaga and mashed potatoes mixed together), mince and tatties (cooked
ground beef and mashed potatoes), Brussels sprouts, and other fine examples
of British cookery. She had worked at a national baker's in Scotland
and worked as a baker in one of their factories but was unable to find
a job in my hometown at a bakery because only men were bakers there.
As a result, when I was a little girl, I remember eating scones, shortbread,
sausage rolls, and other things I now recognize as Scottish fare. At
the time, I neither appreciated nor liked what she served us. She tried
to get us to like cups of tea with milk in it but we cared more for
milk. No sweet drinks for her daughters. For some reason, she couldn't
tolerate the drinking water in my hometown, so she'd drink a carbonated
beverage. (Mom would send me or my sister to the corner mom and pop
shop to get her a container of six glass bottles of pop. Ow! they were
heavy for a little 5-or 6-year-old girl to carry!) Sometimes, she'd
share a sip of soda pop with us but we weren't allowed to drink from
her recapped bottle in the fridge. Perish the thought we'd get one to
ourselves!Eventually, though,
she assimilated into her husband's family's culture and learned to cook
delicious authentic, Mexican meals with real homemade chile and flour
tortillas. But come the holidays, here would come the liquor soaked
fruitcakes made weeks in advance and the shortbread (or as she pronounced
it, "shortbrreeed.") And to the end of her days, despite having
been an American citizen for almost 40 years, she would say, "Ah'm
Scottish!"
About
Marge: Marge
has been writing poetry since she was 12 years old. She writes, publishes
and performs poetry. She has published various articles in Spanish and
English, especially in the area of genealogy. Please read
first
foot,
a story about her mother's first years in the United States.
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