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FeedWhy Worry?
The guilty pleasures of having an Italian mother.
I went to visit my mother yesterday. She’s Italian and 85 years young. Reflect on that for a moment. Perfect. Now let’s continue.
Her beauty—even at this late stage of life—overwhelms me. We embrace, we kiss, and then it all begins.
She gives me the once-over with disconcerting eyes. Despite the onset of macular degeneration, she sees me ever so clearly. The ensuing conversation goes like this:
“You look so skinny. Don’t you eat? It’s not attractive to be sooo thin. Do you have one of those eating disorders? You need to eat MORE!”
My retort is the same as always:
“I’m fine. I do eat—don’t worry.”
“Did you say, ‘Don’t worry’?” she shouts back. “Well, that’s all I do is worry.”
“When are you going to stop worrying?” I pose.
Then comes the guilt. “I’ll stop worrying when I’m dead—that’s when,” she says. “And mark my words: You’ll miss me telling you that you’re so skinny.”
I throw up my hands and concede the loss. And while you might entertain the notion that the conversation is over, it’s not.
“How much do you weigh?” she probes. “Now, tell me the truth.”
I keep my composure and calmly respond with a number. Her disbelief is apparent as she grabs me by the arm and leads me into the bathroom, where she keeps her sacred scale. She points to it and I step on, realizing there’s no escape.
It reads a pound less than I predicted. Immediately, my mother’s hand goes to her mouth, and she bites her fingers in an effort to quell the “agita” and a sudden spike in blood pressure. Why was she so upset over a single pound?
“What about the 5 pounds of clothing you’re wearing?” she asks. “That totals 6 pounds in my book.”
“Remember,” she continues, “I’m smarter than all four of you put together.” (The other three are my brothers.)
I contend that I’m not wearing 5 pounds of clothing—and that only people living in the Arctic need that much. She doesn’t find that humorous—so I figure it’s better to relent and tell her (convincingly) that I’m starving.
We proceed to the kitchen—of course, her favorite room in the house. She has a pot of her gravy (not sauce; if you’re a true Italian, I don’t have to explain) simmering on the stove. The aroma fills the room, and I have a taste from the same wooden spoon she’s used for two decades. We sit down at the kitchen table—eating, talking, laughing.
Worrying runs in my family. Sadly, the gene is passed from generation to generation. We’re made from the same mold, my mother and I. Often, it’s her wisdom that emerges from my own lips as I go about raising my children.
Time passes all too quickly in my mom’s kitchen, and it’s time to part. A barrage of hugs and kisses ensues, neither of us wanting to pull away. As I head to my car, the litany of instructions commences: Call me when you get home; drive carefully because there are nuts on the road; lock your doors; be sure to wear your seatbelt; etc. As I leave, I glance over my shoulder and see that she’s still watching closely.
It seems the worrying never ends—and I hope it doesn’t for a very long time.
Joanne Cannon is a local freelance writer and a mother of two teenage sons.
Reader Comments:
I loved this article! The author really captured what it is like to have an Italian mom. I hope to read another article from JoAnne Cannon soon!
As a member of a family of worriers, I greatly enjoyed the article by Ms. Cannon.
Growing up in an Italian family and watching my grandmother "Italian mother" my dad and his brothers, Joanne's article made me chuckle and brought back some nice memories. As a half-Italian mother now myself, I can definitely hear myself one day soon sounding like her mother. Fun article!
I think "Why Worry" is such a funny story, my great grandmother was Italian and what Joanne Cannon has written is almost word for word what my mother told me, her grandmother used to say to her mother.
Very well written.
Barbara B
Guilt + Worry = Italian Moms ... How well I can relate! However, as Joanne so poignantly reminds us, the root of both is deep love and caring for family. Thanks Joanne, for reminding us how precious this combination can be, and how to cherish it amid the endless pressures of daily life as well as a culture that sometimes fails to realize its value. Keep that pen to paper - I look forward to more of your commentary in the future. ~ Dianne
I enjoyed the story “Why Worry” so much. It made me think of my own mother, who although not Italian, had the same qualities of always worrying about you, loving you beyond measure and making sure that you always had enough nourishment both physical, mental and spiritually. Ms. Cannon, in a funny and loving hand, reminds all of us of that most wonderful of all things.…a mother’s love. I hope Ms. Cannon has more stories up her sleeve because “Why Worry” was a gem. Such a great gift to all of us as we approach Mother’s Day.
Maggie O
As a soon-to-be-mom, this article makes me think about the joys and worries to come!
I absolutely loved JoAnne Cannon's article. As part of a very traditional Italian family I was able to relate to every aspect of her heart warming sentiments. Having just recently lost my Dad I was brought to tears as I realized how blessed I am to still have my wonderful Italian Mom to still hug and kiss. So poignant, touching and very well written. I look forward to future articles from Ms. Cannon and appreciate her wit, humor and style!
Angela K.
The article "Why Worry" by Joanne Cannon brought me to tears of laughter. Mostly because I can relate to the "worries" that a mom (especially Italian) has about her children. The article was true in every sense of how a mother worries about everything.
Being Italian myself, I see my mother in some of Joanne's mother.
I can only hope that she writes an article now on Italian mothers and their sons. Now that is a story!!
Joanne Cannon has captured the essence of living in an italian-american family. I see the exact same relationship between my mother and nana! What an eloquent way to divulge into the inner workings of a family! Beautiful piece!