I received a lot of email/comments regarding looking like our Moms (and Dads) and our mother’s pocketbooks. When writing that blog entry, I hesitated to use the word ‘creepy’ when explaining how it felt to see my mother in the mirror. Needn’t have worried about sounding offensive. You get it!
From Mom’s pocketbook, it was an easy road to her ‘secret’ bureau drawer. The bureau itself is heavy, dark wood and now sits in my basement. As a kid, it was one of my chores to dust it once a week and while dusting, I always took the opportunity to examine the contents of the 3rd drawer down on the right.
This was the mystery drawer where she kept her nylons and garter belts, safety pins and costume jewelry, lipstick and tampons. With four brothers, I had no concept of these feminine items. This particular drawer held all the riddles of womanhood and I was stumped trying to puzzle it all out – particularly tampons, which I decided were some type of magic trick. I would furtively tear them open and pull them apart, try to figure out how it worked.
I don’t remember my mother explaining my period to me, but am sure it was a brief, dark discussion and made to sound dirty. Dirty enough, that I swiped a can of spray paint from the garage and tagged the side of the school with the letters D-O-T. I knew it must be a really bad curse word … just couldn’t quite remember the particulars, only that the word had to do with punctuation (a period is a ‘dot’ at the end of a sentence, right?). Still smiling to imagine what the school custodian must have thought while scrubbing those spray-painted letters off the brick wall.
By the way, I also have my father’s wallet from the day he had his stroke. Besides his license and a few dollars, all it contained were wrinkled photos of his grandchildren.