January 12, 2012
Recently at a family get-together we started a discussion about talents and where they come from. As I have been thinking about that conversation, I am believing more and more that my talents have been nurtured by the women who are closest to me. The women in my family are very talented, and I am not just saying that because I happen to be a woman in that family.
My sister is The Baker. The girl can whip out a home-made pie crust in a jiff - faster than you can say "mmmmm" after that first delectable bite. She makes pies, of course, cakes, cookies, truffles, you name it, all from scratch. And because of this talent, for any family get-together she is deemed the bringer of the desserts. Her talent was passed down from our mother, who more than knows her way around the kitchen, but Meg takes her talent to a whole new level. Baking is not my sister's only talent either. She has a green thumb, for sure, so gardening is also right up there. But my sister has a talent for living life to the fullest. Taking in every moment, savoring it and "woo-hoo" celebrating it up. Whether it's being a den mom at Boy Scouts, carting kids off to wrestling practices, playing games at family Christmas or creating the most memorable birthday party bash, my sister has that "fun" ability. Anytime we are together we are having fun. Don't get me wrong, she and I are cut from the same cloth so we bicker, fight, and argue too, but at the end of the day we always make up and get right back to having fun. Sometimes when I am in my "no" mode with my kids (kids: "can we...?", me: "no", repeat), I think about how Meg might answer. Lately I have caught myself saying "wait, ask me again." I think my sister's fun-starter skill is rubbing off on me.
My mother has many talents. One of which is cooking and baking - she created and cultivated the foundation for Meg's and my talents in the kitchen. But I would have to name my mom The Gardener. When I describe her, I tell people that she doesn't just have a green thumb, both of her whole hands are green. Growing up I remember gardens abundant with vegetables and aromatic flower beds surrounding all of my childhood homes. One of my first memories of gardening was helping weed a flower bed next to the driveway of our house on Loomis. In the spring, it was cram-packed full of Lily-of-the-Valley. Most people believe this flower has such a light fragrance that it barely smells, but I swear I could smell these flowers a mile away. I loved that fragrance, so much so I named my baby girl, Lily, some 20 years later. We joke about another hidden talent - Mom's ability for organization and cleanliness. All joking aside, my mom would put the Clean Sweep team to shame if she had her own reality show. While I may not have been given the housekeeping talent, I do believe I received two talents direct from my mom. And no, I do not have a green thumb. (My love of gardening ended at that same Lily-of-the-Valley bed when I suggested to my sister that she couldn't fit a seed up her nose and she ended up going to the doctor. Surprising that Meg's love of gardening didn't end here as well. But I digress.)
I think one of the talents my mother helped give me is my improvisational style of cooking and my love for food. My mom made dinner pretty fun at our house during my childhood. We didn't have a set menu each week. She would try cooking new things so we would try eating new things. My mom had a rule that we had to try everything on our plate, that didn't mean we had to eat everything on our plate but we wouldn't get to eat anything else if we didn't. (The good ol' days.) Most of everything she prepared was really good except brussel sprouts, man, I hated those. And I don't remember missing out on dessert except for that one brussel sprout moment.
I run my kitchen the same way. Weekly menus? Ha, never. I'm lucky to get to the grocery store each week. I rarely use a recipe - I throw together things we have on-hand and cross my fingers. I teach my kids the ways of the kitchen. They wash, cut, peel, chop, you name it. They ask questions, I try to answer. If I can't one of them goes to the computer and looks up an answer. Overall we do pretty well. Sometimes we strike out and sometimes we hit a homerun. But either way, trying new things in the kitchen is fun, and feels comfortable.
At the family get-together, my mother complimented my writing ability. Yes, I know she gave birth to me and loves me unconditionally, but I took this as a huge compliment. My mom has always lived her life with a "if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all" philosophy. She is the most truthful person I know. If she is point-blank asked a difficult question, she would never lie but she has a way to very nicely say "well, red cowboy boots aren't really my style but you can pull them off." In any case, we pondered where my skill for writing came from. Neither of my parents seem to have any love for writing.
I guess I don't think of myself as a good writer, necessarily. Writing to me is a vessel of telling the words spoken by my heart. I type what I am thinking or feeling or both. My mom is a very quiet person and she may not speak her mind openly about all things to all people. But she opens her heart and pours out her soul to Meg and I and in everything she does in life. I am not nearly as compassionate as Mom. Sometimes when I open my heart, it ends up sounding like a rant from a raving lunatic and I am sure I have offended people. But the honesty of my writing comes straight from the way I feel. The way I feel is a product of the way I live - emulating Meg, striving to be the "fun one" at least every once in a while. And the way I live can only be attributed to the way I was brought up. So thanks, Mom, for being our Gardner, nurturing and growing us so our talents can be appreciated.
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