1) Grand Mathilda - America (From Affine Tree) (Prose / Bio) Poem by Otradom Pelogo

1) Grand Mathilda - America (From Affine Tree) (Prose / Bio)



My mom is sixty-four; will be sixty-five April the twenty-seventh. I just got off of the phone with her, ironically; a few people to be more precise; my mom and sister; trying to increase the tolerance level, making the bonds stronger, and as one would say, keeping the lines of communications open. This morning I went by to have a cup of coffee; since I moved here, I don't go by very much, so whenever I have the chance, I call and invite myself over for a hot cup of coffee or just a short and cordial conversation.

Usually I call home with nothing in particular to say; how is everything going, who's all there, what's for dinner, or did I get any mail; five minutes or so and say good-bye. One day it was okra, sometimes pork chops, fried chicken, sometimes gumbo; and she usually offers; but an hour walk over to her house or just as long transferring on buses, makes the acceptance rare.

My relationship with my mother has taken a progressive and even pragmatic course; I'm sure I was the most loved child when younger, of the five of us, but I'm sure we all thought that. Though as I have become older, I can see the relationship that she has with the rest of the family, I think it's all shared equally. Yet over the last several years, I think that I probably found myself saying the least, though seeing the bond between Barbara and her grow more than ever before. Barbara is the oldest, and their relationship has taken the opposite course; saying more over the years as we have grown older, or rather more mature; thus their relationship has grown tremendously. And even being more surprised as how close the bond between Gary, my younger brother, the youngest child in the family, has also grown, and the bonds between Clinton Jr., my oldest brother and Brenda, my youngest sister; I guess noticing the way that we have changed over the years, though something that I wouldn‘t have noticed when I was younger, but have truly appreciated being able to see it form and mature over the last several years. So that makes two brothers and two sisters, a mom and a dad; I think two and half is supposed to be the size of a normal family, but apparently my mom and dad tried to improve on that; my friend that I grew up with, his mom had sixteen kids.

My dad and Mom are about the same age; though I think that my dad may be a year younger; they are both from Louisiana; my mom from Saint Martinsville, and my dad from Shatan or I think he said the name changed later to Ville Platt.

When I called she said that he had gone to work for the day; to one of the day labors; I think last week she said that he may start driving a truck again; ‘Here comes that leviathan', Here comes the battle of the tireless with eighteen wheels; he has been driving for as long as I can remember, and even had the chance as a kid to go out with him a couple of times when he worked for Steadman, a paper recycling company where we would pick up bails of paper and take them to the warehouse. But all of the above reasons make calling home of course almost a natural response.

But as I said, the phone call seems to take on a pattern of a cordial family phone call that I have been familiar with all of my life, and one that causes even a subconscious awareness of those we love without putting it together until something extraordinary, either good or bad, causes it to make a profound plea for manifestation.
Ironically enough, it's my mom's birthday, so we'll go over to wish her what you would call a happy birthday, though about my mom's and dad's age, they usually admonish you for having brought too many candles. I called her yesterday just to say hello, and talked for a while, and told her that I would go by on her birthday.
I saw Clinton Jr. and his wife Sibil last Sunday; Easter Sunday, and told them the same. They came to pick me up and gave me a ride over to my mom's house for Easter supper in one of the smaller leviathans with four wheels and five doors called a blue van, which between the plate that I had over there and the one she gave me to take with me, has kept me filled even until today. When I called yesterday she said that she and my dad were sitting outside; that was about six o'clock; sometimes they grab a couple of chairs, a cup of coffee and sit outside just as it begins to cool off a little before the setting of the sun. She told me that her granddaughter, my niece, was glad for the Barbie doll that I bought her, and I will have to pick up something for her older brother also.

Barbara, since she works the afternoons was probably there with her son or rather, my mom told me that they had gone to the store, every now and then, they jump into the car just to go out for a little drive before coming in for the evening. Brenda may have been still at work; she usually stops by on her way home. I asked her how was school going, she said that she was taking six hours and would probably take nine or twelve next semester. I told her that I just called to say hello after getting in from work.

I asked my Mom did she want me to pick her up something; she said a chicken, and some cooking oil; my mom cooks rather well; there is just about nothing that I wouldn't eat that she cooks, except cabbage, mustard greens or okra; where I lost the taste for it, I have no idea; but I look forward to seeing the grandkids learning how to cook or bake something themselves. I don't know how they see handing down the art of cooking; either as a secret or cultural heritage; I've tried to get her to teach me a couple of times but never really caught on; though my mom's brother; Chris, is a great cook; something that he probably got from his mom; my grandmother. So our first venture will be a trip over to grandma's house.
Love, Otradom

1)  Grand Mathilda - America (From Affine Tree)    (Prose / Bio)
Saturday, March 5, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: faith,family,grandparents,love,mother,parents,religion,spirituality
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
This is a piece that I used for my first novel about my mother (and the rest of the family) . Stasis & Poreris is a 600 page book, though about parallel worlds and corporate crime, catching the bad guys, also about virtue, morals, and the importance of family of course.
It's also in Affine Tree, a book of poetry and prose on just about everything you can imagine: family, children, parents, growing up, adolescence and some excerpts that I added after having traveled to The Middle East and Europe.
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