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Video Chats, a Royal Wedding, and Photos on the Fridge

2/23/2021

My mom loved to take pictures. Whether there was an occasion or not, she always had her camera out and told us all to smile. If we didn’t smile, she’d complain that she wanted “nice pictures." A lot of them ended up on our fridge every year. But it wasn’t just us on the fridge. When Prince William got married to Catherine Middleton, my mom took pictures of their wedding ceremony on the TV screen and the next thing you know, the Prince is smiling from our fridge door next to those of us who are perhaps a bit less royal.

About 10 years ago I was doing a video chat with my parents. They were in Hawaii for their winter vacation and I was in New York City. When they were out there, we used to video chat quite regularly. That year in February, NYC was hit with a pretty big snowstorm and so I shared some pictures of the snow with them over iChat. There was this one picture of me standing on top of a snowbank and I noticed that my mom was taking photos of the screen.

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I could just send her the photo, so I just let her continue. She must have snapped a dozen photos that I shared from my computer and although there was a screen in between us, I kind of felt special. Here I was in New York City and my mom was in Hawaii and she was taking photos of me in the snow. I don’t know if she ever got them printed, but the thought of my mom getting photos like these printed out at the drugstore and then having them end up on the fridge is about as endearing as it gets.

Carnival, Culture, and a Little Bit of Rum

2/16/2021

With Fat Tuesday being today, I thought about Carnival and about my mother’s relationship with Trinidad. My mom was very proud of her Caribbean heritage. Growing up, we even had the flag of Trinidad in front of our house, right next to the American flag. If my mom was talking about her home country, I can guarantee that she’d be doing it with a smile. Her heritage would sneak its way into conversations and if you talked to my mom for more than five minutes, she probably told you that she was from Trinidad. After that was established, it was most likely followed by something like, “Aren’t you cold in this weather?”

My Dad celebrated Carnival in Trinidad in 1965 and he told me, “Carnival was a crazy time with parties that started almost a week before Fat Tuesday.” What my mother loved the most was the music and the dancing. My Dad said, “It was totally different than anything you'd experience in the states. People were out in the streets, drinking and having a good time. I danced a little bit and I drank a little more than I should have, but I don't think I ever got drunk. Ruby had a tiny bit, just a bit of rum.” He went on to say that, “Because there were so many wild parties, and there was so much drinking, 9 months later there were a lot of babies born.” Unfortunately, this previous section in this post could not be fact-checked, so I cannot guarantee its accuracy.

After my mother moved to the states, she continued to celebrate Carnival. She even got the go-ahead to celebrate carnival at the schools that she worked at and helped the students make their own costumes. Calypso music was played over the sound system and the students had a blast dancing in their original outfits.

One year my grandfather, Clint (Dad’s dad), showed up to see what all the fuss was about.

As I got older, my mom even helped a friend put on a version of Carnival downtown. She recruited a couple of my close friends, Tim and Mike. Tim still recalls saying something to my mom about not being Trinidadian and he remembers her saying with a smile that it didn’t matter if you were Trinidadian or not, but it was simply about coming together to share the love for the culture.

It was the culture that my mom loved, which of course includes the food and the drink. I’d imagine that when you grow up a certain way, it's got to be hard to let go of that. Even though she left Trinidad in 1966 when she was 26 years old, it continued to be a huge part of her life. She loved to talk about Trinidad and by teaching about and sharing the traditions and cultures of her own culture, she was able to bring the world just a little bit closer together.

Coffee Time

2/9/2021

I love coffee. I crave it as soon as I wake up. Sometimes, I even think about it before I go to bed as I’m brushing my teeth and get excited because I know I am that much closer to having coffee. I’m not one of those, “Don’t talk to me before I have my coffee” types of people but I certainly savor that first cup in the morning. It's amazing how day after day, it never gets old.

After I moved back to Syracuse in 2013, my mom and I had a special bond over coffee. Before I started working as a video journalist, I was doing a lot of writing that would last late into the night. I’d be going to bed as my Dad was getting up and I’d usually wake up late and there was always fresh coffee in a thermos waiting for me that either she or my Dad had made.

Before I would pour a cup, I would step outside and that’s where I’d see my mom. In the summer, she was usually outside, watering the plants, clipping coupons or something like that. I’d look at her and say, “Hey Mom, Do you know what time it is???” She would always play along. She’d shrug and say, “No, I don’t… What time is it, Matt?” After that, I would look at her with a smile, glance at my imaginary watch and proceed to say, “It’s coffee time!” My Dad got in on the joke, too and this was a daily thing that always made us laugh. After this, we’d usually sit outside with coffee for a few minutes and we did this almost every day.

“Coffee Time” got to be such a thing that one time, she even put a note on the clock, that said “It's coffee time.”

It's funny how such a small thing like a note and a cup of coffee hold such a special place in my memory. Throughout that summer, I started many days just sitting outside at the picnic table with a cup of coffee in my hand and it was because of my mom that my days started with a smile.

The Great Art Scandal of 1987

2/2/2021

My mom always loved contests. For her, getting one’s artwork or photography in the newspaper was a huge deal. Even after I made a feature film that was in some major film festivals, my mom continued to tell me about these contests. I’d show her a photo I had taken and her first response was, “You should send that to the paper, maybe they'll want to use it.” For her, if you got something into the paper, that was “making it.”

This is a story about the time I did make it into the paper, but today - after three decades - you’ll read the real story behind it: When I was about 8 years old, a local TV station was having their annual student art contest and the participants had to paint an image inspired from a book of their choice. At that time, I was crazy about “There’s No Such Thing As A Dragon” by Jack Kent, so my mom encouraged me to participate in the contest. However, there was one catch. I couldn’t paint. I had absolutely no skill.

My mom bought a big piece of posterboard and I remember that I just started doodling on it when she was in the other room. When she came back she saw just a couple of crooked lines with a pencil Of course my mom wouldn’t say anything bad about my artistic talent, but she was quick to say something like, “You know, I think that what we should do is create a unique background.” She had all this colored tissue paper and we cut it into squares and created a colorful background that conveniently covered up what I had started. Over this new background, my mom painted and painted for at least a few hours.I helped out a little bit and filled in a few shapes here and there, but it was really my mom who did most of the work.

After we submitted the painting, we heard nothing for weeks. So my mom, being my mom, ended up calling the TV station and somehow she got through to one of the judges. When she asked who the winner was for my age division, he didn’t say my name but described “my” painting and I remember how excited my mom was. “First place!!” she yelled from the kitchen right after she got off the phone.

All the winners were invited to a sort of gallery exhibit showcasing everyone’s work at the TV studio. I even got my picture taken by a professional photographer and the picture was printed in the paper. My mom was thrilled for me because I think that she really thought I was the one who did most of the work. If you had asked her if she was the one who painted it, she would have said, “Absolutely not, it was all Matt!” In her mind, she was just there to help out, when in reality she was the one who was behind it.

In literature, there is the term ghost-writer, describing the person who’s really responsible for having written a book, even though their name isn’t on the cover. Over 30 years ago, my mom was my “ghost-painter”, although I got all the local fame for it. Ruby Adams should have won the 14th Annual Student Art Award. Of course she was in her late forties, but coming in at 4’10 she would have fit right in.

"Ruby Tuesday" is a place for friends and family to share stories about my mother and show how she has impacted their lives.

Blog updates every Tuesday for the full year to celebrate my mom turning 80.

If you'd like to share something, whether it be a story, a photo, a recipe or even a drawing of hers that you kept, please e-mail me or use the contact form. The goal is to get as many voices on here as possible!

Video Chats, a Royal Wedding, and Photos on the Fridge

Carnival, Culture, and a Little Bit of Rum

Coffee Time

The Great Art Scandal of 1987

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