Over the years, my mom and I spent quite a bit of time at the Erie Canal. About 6 years ago, we had an impromptu photo shoot there. For my mom, this kind of acting for the camera was effortless. These pictures really embody who she is in so many ways. I hope they'll bring a smile to your face.
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by Mike Adams Art was such a foundational aspect for mom. Here she used it brilliantly in education. For those of you not from Upstate New York, the Haudenosaunee are the Iroquois Confederacy, the sophisticated Native American civilization founded in 1142 and considered the oldest living participatory democracy on earth. The Confederation inspired Our Founders such as Ben Franklin, the joining of the 13 colonies into a single nation and many of our democratic principles. The picture mom outlined to paint with her students is either the Peacemaker or the Onondaga leader Hiawatha. The Peacemaker said, “A single arrow is weak and easily broken. A bundle of arrows tied together cannot be broken. The five arrows represent the 5 Nations and the strength. The motif is present in the bundle of 13 arrows held by the eagle in the Great Seal of the United States. In her teacher's statement, mom wrote, “I love to roll up my sleeves, remembering that I am an artist, for I believe that someday I will be in Paradise and continue to be the great artist that God intended me to be…” Mom always used art to engage her students. She celebrated all cultures, and she never forgot where she came from; Trinidad, landed upon by Christopher Columbus in 1498 and named for the Holy Trinity. The island is truly a salad bowl of Amerindian, British, French, Spanish, African, Chinese, Indian, and Middle Easterners. Their Mardi Gras Carnival is the 7th largest. Mom was part of a group of Syracuse Trinis who brought T&T Carnivals to downtown Syracuse. I gather she even made costumes for her students. Mayor Roy Bernardi even accepted her invitation. There are pictures of Mom, Mark, and me when she became a US citizen, all three of us dressed formally in the colors. She took pride in her US Citizenship, but she also took pride in her Trinidadian roots. For the longest time, both flags were on display at their home. Mark, Matt, and I have each been to the island once each with mom, all at a very different periods in her life. I am sure that she was thrilled to share her home with us. She wrote, “ The combination of my East Indian/West Indian background and my years in the USA have stimulated me to examine more deeply the traditional social values of both cultures, and has driven me to form my non-conformist philosophy”. I can't help but think she was ahead of her time in celebrating multiculturalism.
By Simone Adams Meeting your boyfriend’s parents for the first time can be a lot of things. Exciting – because you find out who the people are that brought him into this world. Comforting – because it is certainly a sign that he’s serious about your relationship. And a little nerve-wracking – because you want to leave a good first impression. When I first met Matt’s parents, Ruby and Ray, it was a little bit of everything. We met at Pete’s Polar Parlor in Camillus and although I was a little nervous, it went really well. Matt later told me that his Mom said, “I have to say that she is very lovely.” I certainly thought the same thing about her. Nothing was formal about our first meeting, and she greeted me with a warm hug as if she’d known me long before. I didn’t notice anything about her memory that day, but gradually over time, as I got to know her better, it became apparent that she was struggling with memory loss, some days to the point of not remembering my name. I had heard all these wonderful stories about Ruby and her colorful life, about the impact she had made on the entire neighborhood, about her vibrant personality, and about the indelible influence she had on her youngest son Matt, the person that I had fallen in love with so deeply. Through Matt’s stories I could clearly recognize traces of her in him. To me, they both share the same loud infectious laugh, the same mischief in their eyes when they are pulling your leg, and they both are empaths who deeply care for and are affected by other people and their feelings. I’ve always been a little bit sad that I never really knew “the” Ruby from before memory loss became a defining part of her life. The fleeting moments and laughs I shared with her seemed small in comparison to the rich stories that I’d heard from her family. I often wished, as did Matt – I’m sure, that we’d met earlier in life, and that I, too, could have shared his mom’s abundance of love that she infused everyone around her with when she was well. Fast forward a couple of years to our wedding day in Austria: Matt and I just said “I do” in front of our families and closest friends. It was the happiest I’d ever felt in my life. When the ceremony was over and it was time for the families to walk up to congratulate the bride and groom, Ruby once again greeted me with a long and loving hug. She held me tight and with tears of joy in her eyes she confessed that earlier that day she didn’t know that we were getting married. She kept saying “I had no idea”, laughing and crying at the same time, hugging us and expressing her joy at what she had just witnessed. In that moment as well as for the rest of the day, she was always “right there” with us. Later that night, Matt and I were on the dance floor with our friends. Ruby and Ray were sitting at the tables in the front row and Ruby was getting tired due to jetlag and such a long, eventful day. But then the DJ put on “Jean and Dinah” by Mighty Sparrow, one of Ruby’s favorite songs from her youth, which Matt had selected for our playlist. Within seconds into the song, Ruby jumped up and joined us dancing. She twirled around, singing the lyrics from memory, and it was like a younger version of herself had suddenly appeared right in front of me.
On my wedding day Matt became my husband, but I also somehow became Ruby’s daughter – and she made sure I could feel that all day long. When I was in my early 20’s, I was really into performance art. I had recently discovered Andy Kaufman and wanted to perform in shows that weren’t traditional in the sense of what the audience expected. Because I played in a variety of bands, it wasn’t too hard to book a show in the Syracuse area so I booked one and I’m sure they didn’t expect what they got. When it was time for our band to take the stage, I got in a wheelbarrow and my Dad wheeled me through the audience and dumped me out in front of the stage. He had on a tuxedo and this great American flag bow tie. After I got up, I dusted myself off like nothing happened and looked around and could gather that the audience had no clue what was going on but they seemed be be interested. This was a club that was known for jam bands and we weren't going to be playing Grateful Dead and Phish covers so this was a bit of an experiment. When I got to my feet, my friend Jaime approached the stage in a Syracuse Chiefs uniform pretending to be an athlete and started making fun of me. We made a few jabs at each other and when our encounter was done, I took off my shirt and my pants and underneath I was wearing a dress. I smeared lipstick all over my face, grabbed a guitar, and a drummer and bassist took the stage and we tore through 5 Nirvana covers as I screamed my heart out in typical Cobain fashion At the end of our set, my mom, wearing a bathrobe made her way through the audience and she was yelling at me. She was screaming in a stereotypical “mom” fashion about it being late at night and was furious that I wasn’t home and in bed because I had school in the morning. After she pulled me off the stage, she dragged me through the audience and we left the club. That was the whole show. I don't have a pic of my mom from during the performance but I took this one below before we left for the show. My mom always embraced these creative impulses and I'm so thankful for that. Although I'm not into performance art in the same way that I used to be, I miss doing things like this with my mom.
As I look back at these memories, I see that it was times like these when we would really bond. She had never taken an improv class in her life but always supported my ideas, made me feel comfortable and we used to have so much fun going back and forth, making it all up as we went along. From a young age, my mom was quite crafty. In this photo, you can see that she has an "R" embroidered on her dress that she did herself. My Aunt Vicenta who is in the bottom middle of this photo remembers it as a golden color and said that my mother did quite a bit of embroidery back then.
The funny thing about the letter "R" is that of course it stands for "Ruby" but truth be told, her real name is Maria Theresa. My Dad said that when he was in the states and my mom was in Trinidad before she flew over for the wedding, he went to get the invitations for their wedding made and the woman making the invitations said, "Her name can't be Ruby” because it isn’t such a common name. My Dad didn’t think twice about it though and still had the invitations printed as planned. It was some time later that my Dad found out what her real name was. He didn't ask her about it at the time and my mom must have never thought it was worth sharing because everyone she knew referred to her as Ruby. He later found out that she was called Ruby because she she resembled her Aunt Ruby. To be honest, I don't think I've ever heard anyone refer to my mom as Maria. Shes a Ruby through and through and I can't even imagine her being named anything else. When I was about 20 years old, I was putting on a show at a club in Syracuse and I needed a baseball uniform for one of the actors. I had no clue where to get one and because they are relatively expensive, I couldn't just buy one for a one time use. My mom and I joked around how it would be so cool to have a Sky Chiefs uniform which was the local Syracuse minor league baseball team at the time. On a whim, my mom called them and somehow got through to someone that had the power to approve something like this and after a few minutes, my mom hung up and said, “We can pick one up on Monday and they said we can keep it as long as we need it.” We were both thrilled that we were able to get this uniform on loan. We laughed and laughed about it! It added a lot of excitement to the show having a real uniform like this. Of course I learned from watching my mom that it never hurts to ask. Of course it doesn't happen all the time but every once in a while someone will listen to your situation and help you out when you least expect it.
Many of you may know that my mother struggled with severe postpartum depression after I was born. She lived in various places and even spent some time being homeless on the streets of New York City. My first memories of her are when she returned home when I was about 6 years old. This photo is from right about that time. After looking at the photo, I turned it over and was surprised to see some writing on the back of it. If you can't read it, it says, "I ❤ you Matt. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. Forgive me!" On the left side, it reads, "I thank God that he gave me the miracle of my life back!! Love Mom." Even though she isn't the person that came home when I was 6 years old until she got sick, I feel so lucky that I got the chance to spend so much time with her while she was well. I learned so much from her and I'm forever thankful that I got to experience the joy of life with her for so many years.
Written by Mike Adams My second career in teaching is based on a long family history of service in education that includes both grandfathers. Mom's dad, as an impoverished young man in Trinidad and Tobago (T&T), started as a "pupil-teacher" in 1930. He rose to principal by 1954 and retired in 1970 with forty years of service. I believe despite his faults; he instilled in my mother a deep love of learning. She completed her O-Level equivalent, which is a post-high school credential of education awarded by Cambridge University before T&T's independence from the U.K, and among other things, she taught Spanish on the island before meeting my father. A fond memory of mine is that she came to my class in my second-grade year and taught and helped all the students and teachers make a giant tissue paper flower for Mother's Day. Other robust memories include my parents visiting Tokyo and my mother teaching my children even in her advanced age. Friends, family, and readers of this blog may know that my mother went through a deep depression. However, as I believe it is often the case - depression ends, and I am confident that having a job and commitment to the community is among the best interventions available. I credit the articulation of this theory to my mentor and pastor, Ken Turner. Upon her return to our family in 1984, eligible from her O-Levels, with the help of our dearest family friend Florencia Lewis (who by the way also helped me obtain my teaching prospects), received a position as Teaching Assistant in the Syracuse City School District. To those of you who know my mom, it is no surprise that she never referred to herself as an assistant, and as I understand it, most of her head teachers treated her as a co-teacher. She primarily supported severely physically disabled children and also those on the spectrum in integrated classrooms. I think it is fair to say that mom was an angel for the family of one boy we recall. However, she also supported all students in art and creativity. Furthermore, she moonlighted as an instructor of vegetarian cooking at Onondaga Community College. I recall how happy that job made her. Among her students were US Circuit Judge Rosemary Pooler and her daughter, (for those outside of the United States, a Circuit judge is the level directly below the Supreme Court). Mom enjoyed having the budget to buy the ingredients for the class meals freely at Wegmans. School children and adult cooking students were welcome to our home from time to time, and any visitor in that era would have a delicious meal at least. In closing, I will let mom speak for herself. These are her words, circa 2000.
"I love to share my feelings with others. I believe that one of the greatest gifts that we can give to our students is the ability to see, to hear, and to reach others; to see the beauty in human communication. Unless we can teach our students- the next generation to be human beings who can share and care for others, we will, unfortunately, be bringing up robots! I love to create. Because of my enthusiasm and creativity, I can give my students the sense of their creativity, necessary for them, to perhaps reach their dreams and goals, or at least provide them with some self-confidence and self-esteem to move on...hope if you will, perhaps sometimes at a seemingly dead-end street." This week's Ruby Tuesday features not just my mom but my Dad, too. It's short, sweet, and extra silly. When I first started studying film in college, both of my parents would often star in my short films. This is a one of my favorite videos we made together, it's a 30 second short titled, "Angry Parents Hate Swimming." I hope you have as much fun watching this it as we did making it! One of the things that I've tried to do with this blog is to paint a picture of my mom before she got sick, and this afternoon, while looking through a few e-mails that she sent over the years, I came across the one below the photo from April 1st, 2006. Usually my mom wrote letters and the envelopes were stuffed with photos, post-it notes with inspirational quotes, and newspaper clippings from our local paper. Sometimes there was even an article or two lifted from a magazine that was in the waiting room of a doctor's office. The only time mom ever used e-mail was when she wanted to share something immediately. She used my Dad's e-mail account to send a message, usually a recipe or a photo. She never had her own account and didn't care much for computers. When she wanted to send a message to someone, she would tell my Dad, he'd get the window set up on his desktop computer, and when she was done with the message, she would call my Dad, tell him that she was finished, and he would be the one to press send. The e-mail below has so much of my mom's charm as well as her desire to be always trying new things. Whenever she was excited about something, she loved to share these things with her friends and family. Subject Heading: Pomelo Greetings! Have you ever heard of a Shaddock? You are probably thinking, "huh?" It's a tropical citrus 2 or 3x the size of a grapefruit..sweeter. And a bit dryer than the grapefruit. It's also called a pomelo. I came across it accidentally! Like my Brooklyn college film tee? Just thought you would like a few pics and to learn about this fruit. They are expensive but its worth trying it. I think 4 for $6.50. Hope you are well and looking forward to a nice spring. It's raining here in the am at 8.30. We are going tonight to an Italian 50th wedding anniversary at the Bellevue Country Club! I heard the menu....it's a real Italian feast! I am wearing my champagne gold dress. We will send photos. Take care and enjoy the moment.
Lots of love Ruby, Mom |
"Ruby Tuesday" is a place for friends and family to share stories about my mother and show how she has impacted their lives.
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