Maw and Paw T

Still hung up on this being a parent thing. Gonna talk about Maw and Paw T.
Those who know me intimately know me as a twisted mass of anxiety, barely able to function in the modern world. When faced with the decision between paper and plastic I have been known to freeze at the checkout counter, motionless, for hours on end. Occasionally they will close the store around me, and find me standing in the same posture when the sleepy eyed, coffee toting, underpaid, stressed out manager shows up in the morning to crank the store back up.
I have very little memory of my childhood. Can't tell you anything about the early years and the later memories I have are tinged with negativity. There are pleasant memories mixed in, I was happy from time to time, but my childhood does not scream out at me with joy. This is in stark contrast to my wife, who has endless happy memories of all sorts of activities and occasions and kitchen encounters on the tip of her tongue.
Maw and Paw T were into discipline. I had to do my homework immediately after coming home from school, before I could go out to play. When friends came
a-knocking, I would meekly reply that I had to do my homework first. There was a large emphasis on good grades. I have elsewhere told the story of me changing a B to an A on a very early report card; I was young. Most kids and parents would be content with a B; where did my fear come from? In the summer, when school was out, I had to be in very early. So early that when I was in bed I could still hear the neighborhood kids outside and playing.
One early memory I do have, strangely enough, is of the first day of kindergarten. When Maw walked out and left me behind I was crying heartily. I have a vision of seeing her legs go by the window as she walked back towards our home. It's possible my memory is warped, perhaps those legs were the legs of the neighborhood hooker, I don't know, but that is the memory that I have.
Another memory many years later. Maw was the disciplinarian. She slapped me one day and I stood there eye to eye with no tears for the first time. An uncomfortable look came over her and she said "you are looking at me with hate in your eyes."
I was The King of All Chores. My parents had a list of chores for me and my brother that stretched from our house all the way to Neptune and back. We washed and dried the dishes, set the table for supper, dusted, vacuumed etc. Painted the white picket fence when needed, cut the grass, raked it, shoveled snow. Spring and fall cleaning was like boot camp. Maw T was a fanatic for a clean house. You could literally eat off the floors, which, by the way, I think is a good thing. BUT my brother, my father and I trembled twice a year. She had a nasty temper and strict standards; we could never make her happy. Washing windows, taking down drapes, putting up the correct seasonal drapes, waxing the wood paneling, rotating the oriental carpets, and on and on and on. I suppose they would defend this obsession with chores as a way to teach us discipline. I think that was part of it, but I think we were more a source of cheap labor.
Although in reality we weren't that cheap. My parents spent a lot of money on us; we were spoiled. They bought us cars, paid for college, bought us nice clothes, took us to good restaurants, travelled on extravagant vacations, we got record players and TV's as presents. They came from sparse upbringings and they made sure we had good stuff, for which I am grateful.
I am proud of the life they made for themselves; my father came to America at the age of seven, speaking only Italian and was thrown into school. As an adult he owned his own business for many years and lived very well. That is the ultimate success story.
At some point I picked up the impression that I was less appreciated than my brother. I felt that I was the disappointment, the one who always got in trouble, the one who could not live up to the family standards. That feeling of inferiority persisted until my parents died. Please understand, I love and respect my brother deeply and consider him to be an incredible human being. There are no negative thoughts in my head for him and never have been.
I also became estranged from my extended family. Started to feel uncomfortable around them, again, like I was the disappointment. As an adult I have been distant and uninvolved with aunts, uncles etc. I still feel uncomfortable around them and rarely see them. Feelings of inferiority persist.
I am willing to consider that my memories may be twisted by my warped mind. My brother is well adjusted, close to our relatives and handles life like an adult. He appears to have lots of childhood memories and positive ones at that.
My overall feeling about my upbringing is that love and tenderness were missing; it was all about discipline and materialism. I am not saying that my parents didn't love me, I know they did, but maybe they loved me in a way that didn't make sense to me, didn't connect with me. And I understand that they were trying to do what they believed to be right for me and my brother, fueled by the memories of their struggles as children of immigrants who did not have a lot.
I have been on my own since 1978. It has been my responsibility since then to deal with my issues. Clearly I have not been successful. I absolutely do not blame my parents for who I am today. And obviously there are kids who were beaten, lived in poverty, had no opportunities whatsoever. Kids who make me look like an ungrateful, whiny lump of uselessness. I do not disagree. I am merely exploring my Joe-ness through the looking glass of my own life. Examining parenthood from the point of view of emotional repercussions, no matter what the environment was like.
My mother once told me that I am a late bloomer. I don't remember the situation, I don't remember how old I was, I don't know if it was meant as a compliment or an insult. I prefer to believe it was an expression of hopefulness. If there is an afterlife and Maw and Paw T are watching me, I hope they know that I am trying desperately to bloom in 2011. Giving it everything I got.
When I do, I'm hoping they smile in satisfaction and pride and that I feel those smiles in my soul.