The GMa
I am so afraid to be my worst nightmare. A total loser with no money, fat and poor. Fucking around with another pass time that wont stick because there is only one thing. Nothing else will do. I often hear her words of wisdom ringing in my ears. “You don’t know what hard times are” stop worrying and go one day at a time.
My grandmother isn't exactly nice. Anyone who knows her has for sure met the shadow and the streak of rage. She is interesting and curious. She loves money and secrets and knows how to keep and use both. A lesson I may have come to infuse with more foolish and trusting energy. By example she teaches that we should move in silence and secure our home and livelihoods first. Without shame or guilt we should make sure we have what we need…these basic demands life asks of us must be fulfilled. Playing with our own sense of safety perpetuates predicaments that keep us in scary survival mode. It’s one of the ways we curse ourselves. My GMa won’t admit it but she encourages altar work and candle work for the saints and ancestors. If you listen closely through the quiet and stay long enough she will say something wise to remember.
While cooking and documenting with my grandma I made myself quiet. Be helpful but not in the way. Ask questions but not too many and not stupid ones! Anyway, as we were tasting what she cooked I asked her if she liked it. She said that’s what she wanted to know…did I like it? Of course i said yes and it was true because everything she makes is amazing, even pigs feet. When I nudged again…so are you pleased with your work? She answers like a sly, cool, straight talker. An empowered witch who knows she rules the world by the spoon. “What do you mean? I only make things I like because they are for me.” Like duh, what kind of question even is this? In the cut of her words there is also an example. A two sided teaching. Utmost respect for self and protection from the intentions and curiosities of others. A strategy in defense and an ability to share nourishment and caring like no other. She is a living example of discernment and boundaries. Try not to correct, let people be wrong about you. Be wrong. Lose. Don't be afraid of starting over. Over and over again. GMa is tough like that.
Go to the max of a dream. Thoughts into things. One day she will be gone. All her arrogance and mean attitude will be gone from this world and I will all surely miss it and wonder why we couldn't be a little happier while she was here. Watching someone age is like watching someone grow. The same kind of tender love bubbles up in me for her. No one cooks quite like her, it’s the place where she has patience and tact. Her 96 year old arms still lift pots and wipe stoves. I almost feel afraid for her that she could spill its contents and get burned or get hurt and be embarrassed. My presence may not be wanted but it isn’t rejected and that’s a start. I take my chances that she will let me tell a story, capture a bit of video. She normally doesn’t like her picture taken so I am grateful and lucky to share a recipe for life that includes a yummy meal and keeps alive memories of someone I find hard to love.
I remember her younger hands. They have changed so much and not that much at all. Like all of us always and never the same. Like all the recipes we ever make too. Always and never the same. How much of life is generous in this way.
Here I document her cooking one of my sisters favorite foods, Pigs feet. Only these women can make something so gross so good. She forgot the garbanzos but I won’t and you shouldn’t either.
Serve with Rice.
