Wiser With Age

Tag: In My Mother’s Words

  • In My Mother’s Words: A lesson in love and hate

    In My Mother’s Words: A lesson in love and hate


    A woman with short hair wearing red necklace.

    Many people say they don’t watch the news, because it’s negative. I don’t necessarily agree with that mindset, but I respect it and understand it. But, there are times even I wish I didn’t have to watch the news. The idea that “ignorance is bliss†is something I wish I could achieve sometimes, but with my profession, I can’t.

    This summer alone, 49 people were killed at a nightclub in Orlando, where I lived for six years. I used to go dancing at that same nightclub. Racial tensions are at the highest I ever remember. Oklahoma. Baton Rouge. Minnesota. Dallas. Terror attacks continue. New York. Istanbul. Baghdad. France. The Syrian civil war is wiping out the little population it has left, and the ones who are lucky enough to escape are rejected by many of the places where they seek refuge. It’s draining. It’s frightening. It’s exhausting. It’s inexplicable.

    They say hate is taught, which reminds me of something my mom has always said:

    “Los hijos nacen blancos como un libro. Uno escribe en ellos lo que uno quiere.â€

    (When children are born, they are like a blank book. Parents, and others, write in them what they want.)

    Sometimes, other things like mental health play a role in all these scenarios, and after a certain point, you’re responsible for your own decisions. But, I can’t help to look at kids and how they all play together. They don’t ask questions. There’s no prejudice. I’m sure they see a difference, because we’re all different, but they don’t pay it mind. I guess it’s part of being a blank book.

    I’ve never understood what the big deal is about people being different. This saying from my mom taught me we all have a story, and most importantly, it reminds me that before I judge, I should take a moment and read their book instead.

    A woman with short hair wearing red necklace.Victoria Moll-Ramirez is a broadcast journalist based in New York City. She is originally from Miami, FL and had the great fortune of being raised by the sassiest, spunkiest, wisest, most hysterical Honduran woman in the world. Victoria’s mother, Bélgica, is 60-years-old, resides in Little Havana (Miami) and enjoys a good margarita accompanied by a heartrending ranchera. Victoria blogs about her mom’s funny and wise sayings on, “In My Mother’s Words.â€

  • In My (Grand) Mother’s Words: Falling in love

    In My (Grand) Mother’s Words: Falling in love


    A woman with short hair wearing red necklace.

    The day I unexpectedly arrived to Honduras for what was supposed to be my grandmother’s 92nd birthday bash, an intimate conversation with my grandmother occurred. We were in her living room, surrounded by people, yet she took a moment to look up at me in the middle of all the commotion, and she asked:

    “Victoria, y vos te has enamorado alguna vez?â€

    (Victoria, have you ever been in love?)

    A flood of emotions and thoughts ran through my mind. Why was she asking? Was she serious? Why now? What do I say? I did what I’ve always known is best, I was honest.

    Then I asked her, “Y usted? Alguna vez se ha enamorado?†(What about you? Have you ever been in love?)

    She replied:

    “Si. Dos veces.â€

    (Yes. Twice.)

    I followed-up by asking if one of the two times had been with my grandfather. She said, “no,“ with ZERO hesitation. She’s 92, so back in the day I’m not sure how much of a role love played in starting a family with someone.

    I have to say that in the 29 years I’ve known my grandmother, this was probably the most captivating, raw, and real moment I’ve ever had with her. I was so surprised by her curiosity to ask me such a thing, out of nowhere! I was also impressed by her candidness and honesty in replying to me. Many times we’re taught elders ask all the questions, we provide all the answers, and that’s it. This was a conversation. It was a conversation between two women where the barriers of tradition were removed.

    Maybe that’s what surprised me the most. This moment, in a way, was my grandmother acknowledging I’m a woman. Not a little girl. Not just her granddaughter. A woman who has had experiences that she wants to know about. It was her way of reaching out, and letting the only granddaughter who hasn’t grown up with her around know that she wants to know who I am. It was her way of telling me know she cares, and whoever did me wrong wasn’t worthy of me anyways.

    In true abuela fashion, she was right.

    A woman with short hair wearing red necklace.Victoria Moll-Ramirez is a broadcast journalist based in New York City. She is originally from Miami, FL and had the great fortune of being raised by the sassiest, spunkiest, wisest, most hysterical Honduran woman in the world. Victoria’s mother, Bélgica, is 60-years-old, resides in Little Havana (Miami) and enjoys a good margarita accompanied by a heartrending ranchera. Victoria blogs about her mom’s funny and wise sayings on, “In My Mother’s Words.â€

  • In My Mother’s Words: Being multicultural

    In My Mother’s Words: Being multicultural


    A woman with short hair wearing red necklace.

    Growing up in Miami is enough of a cultural experience. Spanish is the main language, and any kid who went to school with you and didn’t speak the language got confusing looks. There’s not an overabundance of Starbucks or Dunkin’ Donuts, because there are ventanitas for you to get your cafecito at. You turn on the radio, and it’s a toss up of whether or not you’ll hear the Spanish version of the latest Shakira song or the English one. Of course, the Spanish version of EVERYTHING is usually better.

    Despite being half-Cuban, I was, and will always be, viewed as different in Miami, because it is a predominantly Cuban city. Different was sometimes good and sometimes bad, but for the most part I can’t complain. The biggest difference has been, and still is, living outside of Miami. The problem is, I also can’t handle living in Miami anymore. I’m basically stuck between two worlds.

    It makes me think of my mom who feels the same way about living in the U.S. vs. living in Honduras. She always tells me:

    “Es qué yo no soy de aquí, pero ya tampoco soy de allá.â€

              I’m not from here, but I’m also not from over there anymore.

    When she goes home, she no longer relates to the majority of her family on many things, particularly social issues. She’s considered the “liberal†one. Which is funny, because anyone who knows her HERE knows she’s not liberal…at all. She’s actually just a religious woman who really tries not to judge.

    She doesn’t really speak English, but the few words she does use daily slip out when she’s talking to my Honduran grandmother, like “appointment†or “I know.†She doesn’t enjoy the taste of American coffee, she says it’s watered down. She, too, is constantly juggling two worlds.

    I grew up in a Spanish-only home watching “Carusel†on Univision and listening to rancheras and boleros. I grew up watching Primer Impacto and Cristina, not the English network evening news or Oprah. When you leave that Miami bubble, and enter the true U.S., you’re kinda left lost in this limbo that no one else, for the most part, really gets. We each have our own culture at home, of course, but besides language, add the mix of growing up in what I call “Democratic Cuba” and it’s a whole other world.

    That’s why on days it gets to me more than others, I just call my mom or Miami friends. They ALWAYS get it. Besides, there’s a wonderful reassurance in your mom understanding you, even though you may sometimes have to Google translate some words to better express to her how you feel.

    A woman with short hair wearing red necklace.Victoria Moll-Ramirez is a broadcast journalist based in New York City. She is originally from Miami, FL and had the great fortune of being raised by the sassiest, spunkiest, wisest, most hysterical Honduran woman in the world. Victoria’s mother, Bélgica, is 60-years-old, resides in Little Havana (Miami) and enjoys a good margarita accompanied by a heartrending ranchera. Victoria blogs about her mom’s funny and wise sayings on, “In My Mother’s Words.â€

  • In My Mother’s Words: Loving someone who isn’t yours

    In My Mother’s Words: Loving someone who isn’t yours


     

    A woman with short hair wearing red necklace.

    I was 16-years-old and chatting with my aunt, and my mom, one day after school. My aunt was going to be a grandmother for the FIFTH time. All of a sudden, she looks at me and says, “I’ve been talking to Karen (daughter-in-law), and we think you should be the baby’s godmother.â€

    I was FLOORED. First off, Hondurans do not take this godparent thing lightly. Being asked to become a godmother is being asked to go up to bat if, God FORBID, something happens to the mother. I looked at my mom in shock and excitedly said yes. It was an honor. Besides, I ADORE his mother – many times more than my cousin, ha!

    My cousin had all daughters at this point, and we didn’t know the sex of the baby. They always waited. But, I remember thinking to myself, “I hope it’s a boy.†I have an older brother, I have always gotten along really well with boys, and I wanted to be the godmother of this boy the family longed for.

    On November 28, 2003, Ronald Diego Benavides Nuñez was born. I had started buying gifts for him long before he arrived. I’d buy neutral colored outfits, but in my heart felt it would be a baby boy, my baby boy.

    I went crazy. Frankly, I still go crazy. I actually refer to him as “my son.” Whenever I go to Honduras, the kid knows he has me wrapped. I tell everyone he’s the one person I can’t stay mad at and just turns me into mush. I cried when he called me “madrina†(godmother) for the first time. Anything Rondi needs/wants/desires from me, Rondi gets. But, as my mother always reminds me:

    “No te enamores de lo ajeno.â€

    (Don’t fall in love with what doesn’t belong to you.)

    It’s such a tough reminder, but she’s so right. He’s not mine. I’m not there day in and day out helping him with his homework. The emotional highs and lows that come with rearing him don’t apply to madrina. I show up every so often, shower him with love but am not there every day.

    There’s a certain amount of guilt that comes with being one of the family members who is blessed enough to live in the United States. Honduras isn’t the safest place, and it’s very poor, but it is beautiful. If he did belong to me, he’d be here. But he doesn’t, so he’s not.

    Anytime I get myself riled up about not being informed that he’s sick, or that he needs something, I remind myself of my mom’s words. He may not be mine completely in theory, but I’m possessive and territorial, so I will say he is until HE tells me otherwise.

    And I think he’s ok with that.

    A woman with short hair wearing red necklace.Victoria Moll-Ramirez is a broadcast journalist based in New York City. She is originally from Miami, FL and had the great fortune of being raised by the sassiest, spunkiest, wisest, most hysterical Honduran woman in the world. Victoria’s mother, Bélgica, is 60-years-old, resides in Little Havana (Miami) and enjoys a good margarita accompanied by a heartrending ranchera. Victoria blogs about her mom’s funny and wise sayings on, “In My Mother’s Words.â€

  • In My Mother’s Words: Gratitude

    In My Mother’s Words: Gratitude


    A woman with short hair wearing red necklace.

    As my mom and I sat in the airport waiting for our ride when we came back from South America this summer, she started telling me how clearly she remembers the day she arrived to this country. She said she remembers the times she got lost. The times she felt such relief when finding someone who spoke Spanish to help, and how tough it was the times she couldn’t find someone.

    I asked her if she had to do it all over again if she would. Without any hesitation she said to me,

    “Uy, claro que sí! Yo a este país le vivo muy agradecida por que me dio a mis dos hijos y oportunidades que yo nunca hubiera podido tener en Honduras.â€

    (Oh, of course! I am very grateful to this country, because it gave me my two children and has granted me opportunities I would’ve never had in Honduras.)

    My mother is one of the most grateful people I know. Frankly, I sometimes think she’s grateful to a fault. She never forgets the favors people did for her during some of our most difficult times. Her life here has not been an easy one, life in general isn’t meant to be easy. But, it takes a certain level of badassery (not a confirmed word in the Oxford dictionary) to pack up your bags and move to a whole new country you’ve never even seen. Not to mention, leaving your country and family not knowing when you’ll return.

    My mom is the ultimate American. She listens to the Star-Spangled banner carefully every time it plays. She likes watching shows like Family Feud bc she says they teach her new words in English. She LOVES Facebook and her iPhone. She’s full of hope. Hope granted to her by living in a place where if you work hard you can come from an impoverished country, not know the language, and raise two professionals. Hope is a gift my mother has never taken for granted. She is forever grateful to this country for granting her that hope.

    This Thanksgiving we spent it apart. We have lots to be thankful for- my mom’s health, my new job, amazing friends along with a roof over our heads and food on our tables. My mom came from very little and is always reminding us to give thanks, no matter the occasion. To her you need to be thankful for everything from the bus driver who gets you home safely to the steady paycheck.

    Maybe that’s why when it comes time for Thanksgiving if we can’t get together none of us feel all that terrible. When your family consists of three people every gathering is a family gathering. We know how lucky we are and even if we’re apart we know we’re not alone. We’re a formidable army of three who eat turkey weekly (lean meats, ya know?!). We look forward to the next time we see each other and figuring out what vacation we’ll take next.

    We’re three people full of hope and for that we are grateful.

    A woman with short hair wearing red necklace.Victoria Moll-Ramirez is a broadcast journalist based in New York City. She is originally from Miami, FL and had the great fortune of being raised by the sassiest, spunkiest, wisest, most hysterical Honduran woman in the world. Victoria’s mother, Bélgica, is 60-years-old, resides in Little Havana (Miami) and enjoys a good margarita accompanied by a heartrending ranchera. Victoria blogs about her mom’s funny and wise sayings on, “In My Mother’s Words.â€