This Fish Needs A Bicycle

I hope my relationship is good with my mother after college. I too notice uncanny similarities between us (it scares me b/c she's so OLD). But right now things with us are so strange. We seem to be a bit of a standstill while I'm at school. But when I go home, she wants nothing but to make me happy, so we don't fight anymore. We don't have the time in during the short holidays. God, we used to though.

Thanks for such a thought-provoking post, Fish. I'm a first time poster, and recent reader-- I wish that blogs had been around when I was your age.

That's a beautiful post, Fish. And one that hits close to home... My family immigrated to the US from Russia when I was 11. And poor doesn't even begin to describe how we started and lived for awhile. Awareness of poverty as a child is a very striking thing and stays with you as you grow up.. It's wonderful that you and your mother are so close too..

Powerful and evocative once again. Thanks for sharing your memories. (Of course, now I'm inspired to write down my own, but that will have to wait.....)

And if I don't write between now and then, have a wonderful thanksgiving, Fish!!

A common bond with writersbloc gal. We emigrated from Romania (I too was 11) and had SHIT! But somehow, I never knew or noticed. Mothers are beyond words (good ones, that is). Recovering from a mastectomy the night before, my mother offered to pour me half of her coffee into an empty cup just so I wouldn't have to take the elevator down to the lobby of the hospital and get one from the vending machine. She actually wanted to save me the walk! Anyway, this was a nice post. I identified with it, from a son's point of view.

Oh and yes, the lovely Italian restaurant w/bad service and long wait for food...it didn't happen to be Rocco's did it?
:)

thanks, fish. i had the same conversation with my mother not too long ago. and reading your post brought it all back with tears swelling up in my eyes.

When we first moved to Hawaii, fresh from the Philippines, we had ABSOLUTELY NOT ONE DAMN THING. My father however, joined the Navy, so we had military housing. I was too young to remember this as I was just 9 months old when we moved, but my sister recalls that at times we only had rice to eat. Things started to pick up for us...and as I got older, I remember my mom who was a school teacher in the Philippines, worked as a hot dog vendor, worked in warehouses driving forklifts, while my dad was away for months at a time on the ship. I don't know where the hell I'm going with this post, but your post made me smile and think about my childhood.

Thanks a lot H-Tard.

H-Tard!!!
Em, please come for Christmas. I want to wake up in the morning and hear, "Merry Christmas, Tard. Where's breakfast?"

Lovely post. I read you religiously but never comment. Because of all the recent sniping, I wanted to let you know that I find your writing engaging and moving no matter what the topic. I hope all the negativity doesn't make you self-conscious about writing about relationships w/men, because that is a huge part of everyone's life, whether or not they admit it.

My childhood was poor too, and I think the hardest part was trying to fit in and knowing that we couldn't afford all the material things that I believed made other kids popular. It definitely builds character and work ethic, though, so I wouldn't change the experience.

Found your blog by way of a couple of others I frequent.

Call it a pathetic insecurity but I rarely enjoy blogs by girls but I truly enjoy yours!

I just discovered your blog after reading about it in The Times...since then, I've added it to my favorites and read you everday. I just read the one about your mother and can relate to it (as with all the other postings); my mother and I had a very close relationship, but at 28, we've become quite divided, for various reasons that I won't get into here. Suffice it to say, what I appreciate in your writing is your ability to see within yourself, truthfully. Thanks for sharing. It means more than you'll ever know.

It's interesting how the portrait of your mother has evolved over time (here in the blog). I remember when she was just a set of initials and more of a caricature. She was someone who was easy to hate when or if she hurt you.

Now there is this plaintive yearning to bridge a gap that seems to have begun years ago. I can't tell if neither of you knows what words to say or if you're (both) afraid you'll be too vulnerable if you say them.

May you find the words, the courage and the bridge to a bright new place you both share.

Who are you people? Blah blah blah. Thanks for playing along.

Editor's note: This comment has been edited. Anonymous comments will not remain on the blog. That's just how it is. Be legitimate or move on. Or, post it on your own 'Here's how much time I spend hating the world" blog and be done with it!

Bad service, bad piano, bad food...You were at Divino on 2nd Ave., weren't you?

Hi Fish. Have you seen the movie “Shark Tales” yet? If so, please tell us new readers which fish you most resemble, the Katie Couric character or Angelina Jolie’s?

P.S. (You don't really need to see the flick to answer this question.)

Hey Fish,

I haven't commented on your site for such a long time, but as always I read your blog when I can.

I know that officially you've drawn a line under the whole Lindsay/NYC Times/email abuse issue, but I thought I'd just let you know how much I still love reading your site.

Just say keep up the excellent work, your voice is so distinctive and your courage inspiring, I personally couldn't come out to the blogger world for fear of Dooce.com type results. I admire the fact that you stay true to your self, and write what you want, coz god dammit this is your blog disgruntled readers aside!!

P.S. Although its not as interesting in London, and we don't have many taxi drivers called Abdul who do Joey impressions, I'd love to hook up with you on your adventures if and when you make your way across the pond.

Yay for the end of snark and the return to normal programming, once more - a truly moving piece Fish. From all women who are still learning about their mothers: I thank you.

That was beautiful. I can identify not only with this post, but the ones you linked to, especially the email from your dad. My parents got divorced last year, although my dad actually calls about once a week. The problem is that when he calls, he wants me to be his therapist. He wants to tell me how depressed he is, and he wants to complain about how rotten their marriage was. It breaks my heart over and over and one of these days I will just need to tell him to STOP. I wish my dad had email, because it would be so much easier for me to express myself in the written form than talking to him about it on the phone. I guess I could write a letter, but I'm notorious for composing letters and emails that were better off unsent-- too much raw emotion and not enough tact. The "Draft" folder of my email account has proven to be a true friend of late.

Sorry.. didn't mean to go on a rant there. Thank you for being so real and for sharing so much of your heart.

I really miss how you used to write so that you sounded just like Bridget Jones. But your new tone is cool too and your site is a great read still! Keep up the good entries!! :)

This story made me teary-eyed. When my son (now six) was a year old we were homeless. We were lucky and had two friends and three relatives (exactly) who helped us get to a place where we could fight our way back to middle-class lifestyle. We're going to the movies today and I'm still not quite comfortable with being able to do that. I got so used to living by the skin of our teeth it's hard to adjust.