[“Let
Inga Tell You,” La Jolla Light, published March 5, 2020] ©2020
I
think every family has some classic lines that everyone remembers – including
and especially the person who often regrets uttering them. Others are just shorthand
for favorite family stories that can be resurrected with a single phrase.
Here’s a few from our family:
“There’s
nothing to do in Europe.” Henry, age 12, declining a trip to Europe with his
father and brother. He elected to stay home and play Nintendo games.
“If
I’m lying, let lightning strike Henry.” Rory, age 7, staking his story to his
five-year-old brother’s life. (By the way, he was lying.)
“Shape
up or I’ll kiss you in front of your friends.” My ultimate threat to my young
sons when they were misbehaving.
“Shape
up or I’ll wear a bathing suit in front of your friends.” Ultimate threat,
teenage years.
We
had a pool, often populated by the kids and their friends, so I could easily
make good on it.
“I’m
not sure I could go to school in a cold climate.” Rory, after his tour of the
UC-Santa Cruz campus. (He did go, and lives there to this day.)
“Dear,
if the market goes up another 10%, could we get a new bath mat?” Olof’s
plaintive plea a few weeks after we were married. I had had so little money during
my 12 years as a single parent that the house had gotten really shabby. And
personally, I thought there was still life in that bathmat.
“I
just called you in February!” College sophomore Henry replying to our concern
in April that we hadn’t heard from him in a long time. (Friends with daughters
often remarked that they spoke three times a day.)
“Your
mother is taking nourishment. And Girl Scout cookies.” Olof assuring our sons
by email that I was finally recovering from a serious bout of flu.
“Do
people know you’re not funny in person?” My sons’ query when I would be
invited for speaking engagements.
“Why
can’t everyone just speak English?” Henry, in high school, struggling with
Spanish, the only B of his high school career.
“You’ve
been like a mother to me.” Rory’s (age 10) hand-made Mother’s Day card to me.
It has become a classic, with pretty much every bouquet of Mother’s Day flowers
in the last 20 years accompanied by this message. (I still have the card.)
“Well,
off to kill some enemy operatives!” Olof’s statement to my sons as he left the
house every morning. They had seen the Arnold Schwarzenegger movie “True Lies”
about a terrorist-battling secret agent whose cover is a nerdy computer guy and
they were convinced that this was Olof’s story as well. It didn’t help that
Olof’s college roommates told the kids that they were sure he had been a spy.
“I’d
like to thank my dad for teaching me to have fun.” Henry, 17, upon receiving a
hugely prestigious national award, when asked by an interviewing reporter if
there was anyone he’d like to thank. Dad – my former husband - had not driven
a single car pool or done a trip to the library or medical visit or helped with
even one school project in this kid’s entire school career. For weeks
afterwards, it was all I could do not to poison Henry’s lunches.
“You
didn’t grow up in poverty, but you did grow up in squalor.” Olof commenting on
both the kids’ assessment that they’d grown up in poverty (relative to their
friends who often took holiday trips to Aspen or Hawaii), and on his
affectionately-vicious assessment of my housekeeping skills.
“I
love you higher than the sky and deeper than the pool.” Rory’s pre-school
valentine to me as transcribed literally by his teacher. I never wanted to
ask: the one-foot end or the eight-foot end?
“It’s
only a desert if you think of it that way. I prefer to think of it as a very
large beach with surf breaking on both sides.” Olof, who spent an aggregate of
four years working in Saudi Arabia, optimistically headed out for another
month-long stint there.
“A
closed mouth gathers no feet.” My oft-uttered but rarely followed motto.
Usually heard as I’m berating myself for failing to stop talking five minutes
earlier than I actually did.
To
this day, Henry looks pained when someone revives the Europe quote, but both
kids remember their terror that I’d present my chubby self out at our pool in a
bathing suit. (Must have been all those Girl Scout cookies.)
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