I was raised by a mother who taught us to save things “for good.” That included everything we didn’t need to survive the current day. I carried that mantra through much of my life—not using china I loved except for a special occasion, not wearing that new outfit today because I might receive an invitation to lunch tomorrow, keeping the last tube of a lipstick whose shade has been discontinued for “special” occasions, instead of joyfully wearing it when I have coffee alone at Starbucks.
Going through my mother’s things when she died, I found gifts my siblings and I had given her over the years—scarves, gloves, jewelry—still in their boxes, wrapped in yellowing tissue, waiting for an occasion important enough to wear them.
Erma Bombeck, the humorist who wrote about suburban home life, did this, too. When she was diagnosed with a fatal illness, she wrote a column titled, If I Had My Life to Live Over,
listing what she would do differently if she was granted the chance to do it all over again. The last item on the list is a valuable life lesson, learned too late by many:
“ Mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute … really see it … live it.”
I, too, have regrets about things that could have been and never will be, things I put off using and doing. There are clothes hanging in my closet that I have outgrown without ever having worn. There are delicacies in my kitchen cupboard past their expiration date that I have to discard without ever having tasted. Unlike Bombeck, I survived my cancer, I have been given a second chance. But after a lifetime of making tomorrow more important than today, I sometimes have to force myself to take that chance. My mother is in part responsible for this. Never underestimate the tenacity of a mother’s teachings. I’ve outlived my mother by many years, I’ve surpassed her in formal learning, I function in a technology-driven world that she never could have coped with. Yet, her simple lessons and cautions still influence my every day.
Cooking for my family is one of my great joys. My grandchildren delight especially in the appetizers I serve. A Mother’s Day note from my grandson listed three reasons he loved me. I don’t remember the first or the second, but I’ll never forget the third: “You make the best hors d’oeuvres.” One holiday I surprised them with Japanese Rumaki. Whole water chestnuts are wrapped in bacon that has been spread with brown sugar on one side and whole grain dijon mustard on the other. The bacon is secured with a toothpick and the wraps are baked until the bacon is crisp. Everyone liked them, but my granddaughter Jenna loved them. “Nana, promise you’ll make them again!”
“Next occasion,” I promised.
Jenna didn’t have a next occasion. The can of water chestnuts I bought and saved just for her sits in my cupboard. I will never use it. It’s there to remind me that life itself is a special occasion.
As my life winds down, I find myself following Bombeck’s advice. When I am tempted to save for tomorrow something that will make me happy today, I tell myself, “Use the good stuff!” Don’t wait for that perfect moment. It’s now.
Cathy Fiorello is a freelance writer based in San Francisco. Her work has appeared in The New York Times, Still Point Arts Quarterly, and Scholastic Magazine. She is the author of the recently published PARIS: SHARING THE MAGIC, an ode to the city on the Seine.
The Perfect Family—A choice to let go the desire for perfection