Sesame Oil and Mother
As I write yet another essay about another American author writing another novel about the flaws of American capitalism, (Sister Carrie, Theodore Dreiser, 1900...I think I've written at least five of these essays, no lie. All I need to do is change quotes, names, and titles, and I'm all set.) the scent of sesame oil wafts over the entire house. This smell is hard to describe; it's exotic, yet homey, and it's a smell I'll always associate with my mother.
My mother is Japanese. She's one of 5 children--3 girls and 2 boys--and she's the third and middle child. She was raised in a middle-class neighborhood in Yokohama (Machidashi). Her father, my grandfather, was an artist, a college professor, an extremely talented carpenter, and an aspiring farmer. He tended to bring home a different animal every few months, and my mom and her siblings always had pets--the most notable one to me is a dog named Sankaku, which means "triangle." My grandmother was a kindergarten teacher, and she ran her school out of the family home. From what I understand, her family was perfect. Every one of her siblings was quirky, intelligent, talented, athletic...they were all wonderful. And then my grandmother died of colon cancer. My mom was 14, and her youngest brother was only 2. Her oldest brother already in college, my mother and her older sister, Hisako, had to take care of the entire family. My grandfather, being extremely independent, seemed to be a wonderful father, but not interested in housework. My mom had to grow up very fast. She seemed to lose the rest of her childhood. She was popular in school, was the captain of her volleyball team, but I can't imagine her being able to do much socially because she had to make sure her brother and sister were ready for school, fed, bathed, etc. When her father died of liver cancer when she was 28, she left her now grown brother and sister, and went to New York City with her job. It was 1986. She slowly became Americanized, and blended in. Since then, she's had a child, lost and found jobs, had a divorce, and bought a house.
The reason I write this all out is to try and come to terms with some of the things my mom does. She often acts childish and we have "best friend-ish" fights about stupid things. I often feel like I'm living with a peer rather than an authority figure or a role model. My mother's horrible temper has rubbed off on me, I'm sure. After I turned 10, she seemed to lose all hold of mother-hood. This is understandable because she didn't have a mother figure during her teenage years. I sometimes find it really difficult to deal with her because of her inexperience with typical American and/or teenage problems, like applying to American colleges, forgetting homework assignments, SATS...
Through all of this, though, as I smell her cooking something downstairs with sesame oil, I notice many American influences. Endearing qualities that are purely "Mom." The way she hits the spoon on the edge of the pot to the rhythm of the first half of "Shave and a Haircut" every time she needs to tap of any residual food, the way she gossips and laughs uproariously with her American girlfriends on the phone, and her strange interest in shows like American Idol and Dancing With the Stars.
My mom may be hard to deal with, she may be frustrating, I may not get the attention I need from her, and I may not hear the words "I love you" as often as any other American child, but she's mine. And without a father, she's all I've got.
My mother is Japanese. She's one of 5 children--3 girls and 2 boys--and she's the third and middle child. She was raised in a middle-class neighborhood in Yokohama (Machidashi). Her father, my grandfather, was an artist, a college professor, an extremely talented carpenter, and an aspiring farmer. He tended to bring home a different animal every few months, and my mom and her siblings always had pets--the most notable one to me is a dog named Sankaku, which means "triangle." My grandmother was a kindergarten teacher, and she ran her school out of the family home. From what I understand, her family was perfect. Every one of her siblings was quirky, intelligent, talented, athletic...they were all wonderful. And then my grandmother died of colon cancer. My mom was 14, and her youngest brother was only 2. Her oldest brother already in college, my mother and her older sister, Hisako, had to take care of the entire family. My grandfather, being extremely independent, seemed to be a wonderful father, but not interested in housework. My mom had to grow up very fast. She seemed to lose the rest of her childhood. She was popular in school, was the captain of her volleyball team, but I can't imagine her being able to do much socially because she had to make sure her brother and sister were ready for school, fed, bathed, etc. When her father died of liver cancer when she was 28, she left her now grown brother and sister, and went to New York City with her job. It was 1986. She slowly became Americanized, and blended in. Since then, she's had a child, lost and found jobs, had a divorce, and bought a house.
The reason I write this all out is to try and come to terms with some of the things my mom does. She often acts childish and we have "best friend-ish" fights about stupid things. I often feel like I'm living with a peer rather than an authority figure or a role model. My mother's horrible temper has rubbed off on me, I'm sure. After I turned 10, she seemed to lose all hold of mother-hood. This is understandable because she didn't have a mother figure during her teenage years. I sometimes find it really difficult to deal with her because of her inexperience with typical American and/or teenage problems, like applying to American colleges, forgetting homework assignments, SATS...
Through all of this, though, as I smell her cooking something downstairs with sesame oil, I notice many American influences. Endearing qualities that are purely "Mom." The way she hits the spoon on the edge of the pot to the rhythm of the first half of "Shave and a Haircut" every time she needs to tap of any residual food, the way she gossips and laughs uproariously with her American girlfriends on the phone, and her strange interest in shows like American Idol and Dancing With the Stars.
My mom may be hard to deal with, she may be frustrating, I may not get the attention I need from her, and I may not hear the words "I love you" as often as any other American child, but she's mine. And without a father, she's all I've got.