My mother’s words of wisdom

Listening to a radio programme, my reaction was, ‘Now, why didn’t I write that?’
The woman interviewed spoke about a book she’d written on her mother’s sayings. Considering the Bible of My Mother’s Wise Sayings completely informed and defined the woman I am, it is astonishing that I never thought to record them.
Looking back on myself as a small child, I have no recollection of ever asking her to explain any of her utterances. Yet, beyond a shadow of a doubt, I absorbed each of them like a sponge.
Those precious gems contained in the sponge of my brain continue to sparkle, advise and console. Because I never asked for explanations, I can only presume that my interpretation of them is correct. You see, she didn’t elaborate or go into complicated explanations but merely kept it short and sweet.
Although it is practically impossible to choose the most valuable gem of wisdom she imparted, her refrain of ‘be civil and strange’ certainly stood me in good stead all my life. I translated this into the importance of being civil to everyone whilst at the same time, not being overly friendly with certain people.
Throughout the years, I’ve had occasion to ‘prune’ particular friends, a sensible exercise. Psychologists have long advocated this practice, on the grounds that toxic friends should be trimmed like deadwood. However, I faithfully follow my mother’s golden rule of always saluting such people when meeting accidentally.
Over the years, I’ve observed neighbours falling out over their children’s rows – surely the most nonsensical attitude to adopt. Literally within minutes, the children have forgotten they ever had a disagreement, while the parents at loggerheads.
It is truly appalling how people can live side by side or in close proximity and persist in ignoring each other. It is my proud boast – my mother’s legacy – that there is not one person in my professional or private life, past or present, whom I could not meet face to face and greet pleasantly. I’d decline to join them even for a coffee but I’d speak affably nonetheless.
‘If you’ve nothing good to say, say nothing’ was another admonition. ‘Particularly,’ she’d add, ‘never remark negatively on a person’s appearance’. Now we’ve all experienced the deflation of considering we’re looking reasonably ok, only to have some ignoramus comment that we look tired/have we gained weight/are we too thin?
In Brian Friel’s brilliant Philadelphia Here I Come, the main character has an alter ego. His second self stands behind him throughout and when the guy speaks to his distant, aloof father, (endeavouring to find some element of common ground), the alter ego utters the words that the guy really feels like blurting out but refrains, rather than appear confrontational towards his remote, indifferent father.
Most people are familiar with, say, someone collaring you and boring you silly. You stand there, nodding politely, whilst inside your head you’re screaming, ‘Will you get lost. I’ve no time to be listening to this inane drivel’. My mother never heard of Brian Friel but she frequently opined, ‘if we all went around with our real thoughts printed on our foreheads, no one would speak to us’.
‘Never prepare food or sit down to eat without washing your hands thoroughly’ was drummed into us to such an extent that I wouldn’t eat even a biscuit without washing my hands. To this day, not one member of my own or my siblings’ families have ever suffered gastroenteritis, thank God.
Although a lady to her fingertips, she unknowingly adopted the boy scouts’ motto of ‘be prepared’. Being the real people of Ireland, we ate dinner in the middle of the day. After we all dispersed to work and school, my mother brushed her hair, applied a dab of powder, a touch of lipstick and her favourite fragrance ‘in case someone should call’.
A drinks and tea tray were perpetually prepared for such an eventuality. Thus, her letter-writing afternoons were spent with a pleasant feeling of expectation, sometimes fulfilled, other times not. If no visitor materialised, disappointment was never voiced. It was the delightful anticipation that counted.
‘Always wait to be seated’ she advised. This eminently sensible advice sprang from an embarrassing incident she witnessed at a social occasion. A woman in her group made a beeline for a seat at the head of the table, whereupon the host, kindly but firmly, demoted her, so to speak.
‘Accessorise appropriately’ she also advised. So, fancy buttons replaced those on inexpensive coats, or a belt/scarf/ brooch lent an elegant, stylish air.
In times of trouble or suffering she’d quote, ‘This too will pass’. Mama, little did you know the consolation that particular quote was to bring to ‘your baby’. Thank you.