A Scottish Mother

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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		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. top of page contact us membership agreement previous mother next mother


Scotch Shortbread tostadas