Last week my mom e-mailed me and said she and Dad are planning their memorial services, etc., and “I want you to consider playing for my memorial service. If you do not feel you could do it, would you at least consider playing the Widor piece I like so much at the end of the service? This means a great deal to me, because I am so proud of your musical talents and in some very small way - I helped you to become a great organist.”
(The Widor piece is a hard piece I play every Easter and, frankly, it hurts to play. I hate playing it any more.)
What she means is she paid for lessons, drove me there, urged me to practice, bought the piano and gave it to me when I got married, and paid for college. Well, I guess that is a lot. But every time I accomplish anything musically she claims ownership of it, like it has nothing to do with my talent and all my hours and hours of practice. I also used to go to the neighbor’s every day to play her piano (before we had one) and that lady taught me how to read music. My parents didn’t buy me the piano until I started saving my allowance up for one.
So I told her no. But I think I should have just said yes, then when the time comes tell my dad that no, I can’t possibly play the organ at my mother’s funeral.
This is, of course, just MHO, but I can’t say I’d have turned her down. My mother and I have notoriously strained relationship, but were she ever to come to me and ask me to do something specific at her funeral - whether it was something she felt she had contributed towards or not - I couldn’t fathom saying no.
Without knowing anything about you or your parents, at the least it does sound to me that they were supportive of your desire to pursue your gift… That’s no small thing, in my book.
Well, about 6 years or so ago, my father asked me to promise him that I’ll never get a tattoo, or a piercing other than another ear piercing. I don’t know why he felt moved to ask this of me, but I did promise not to get a decorative tattoo. I told him that I had considered getting an “ALLERGIC TO PENICILLIN” tattoo on my butt, and he agreed that this was, in fact, somewhat reasonable. But he still was not happy until I made my promise.
I was about 40 years old at the time, I think that if I was gonna get an ornamental tattoo I would have already gotten one by then!
Of course you should have said yes! Goodness, gracious, girl, what would it cost you to give that comfort? So she takes pride in your accomplishments and says in some very small way she helped you. Good! Besides the fact that she
, don’t forget that she also kept you fed, clothed and cared for. There are probably tons of musically talented people who had to scrounge for every one of the things she gave you.
And you should, unless unable to because you are completely consumed by grief, play the organ at her funeral. And you should go back now and explain that you were momentarily unnerved at the idea of her funeral, and that certainly you will play that piece at her funeral, which you hope is many, many years away.
My late father used to say, whenever my sister or I accomplished anything, “Well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” It still irritates the heck out of me. But it’s a natural thing for parents to want at least some of the credit for providing the genes and the environment in which a talent can flourish. Sometimes parents wish they themselves could have accomplished more and need to enjoy the success vicariously.
My Mom is notoriously thrifty. I can’t blame her since she is retired, but sometimes it’s a bit much.
She just purchased a new car. She wanted me to buy it and register it where I live to save a few bucks on taxes. Not really that big of a deal, but it seemed like more than a hassle than it was worth.
Instead, we offered her $6000 towards the purchase of the new car. You’d think I just pissed in the punch bowl. She would have none of that, it was the principle of saving the money. Doesn’t matter how much of a hassle it may be.
I should make it clear that she wanted me to buy the car with her money, and register it in my name, where I live. I would be on the title. She would drive it.
In hindesite. I probably should have done it. I thought offer of the gift of $6000 was much more generous.
Oh well. She got my brother to do it for her . At least he lives in the same general area (I’m 100 miles away).
OTOH, registering and insuring a vehicle under false pretenses could be illegal, depending on where this happened. If, heaven forefend, she gets into an accident or gets a ticket, both she and your brother could get info difficulties with the state and/or the insurance company. IANAL, YMMV, etc.
I agree. And that was one of the problems I have with the idea. It may not be ‘illegal’ but it’s not quite right. And insurance? As long as it was clear that the driver lived in a different place than where it was registered, that should be OK.
But who knows. I don’t think it’s worth $500 (saved in taxes) to find out the hard way.
And, both my wife and I work for County Government. We live in a different County than we work for, so the car would have be registered in the County that we live in and not the County we work for, but it still made me feel a little oogy doing this.
I was denied insurance by all the major companies when I wanted to insure from one address and live in another, even though I told them that was what I was doing. A big part of their rate calculation is where you actually live (hence, NJ’s atrocious insurance rates).
Oh, you never know, you might want one sometime. My mom drove me to the shop to get mine! She’s cool.
However, there is a current issue that is driving me absolutely batty. Due to a variety of valid reasons, I had to move back home last year. I’m almost 28 and frankly, I want to move out again, but at this very moment I can’t. I’m hoping when I start classes this fall I can find some roommates or something and move out. BUT SHE DOESN’T WANT ME TO. I don’t think she’d STOP me, but she says she likes having me here.
Really, Mom, it’s a compliment that I want to move out again! As for our storm-phobic dog, you’ll come up with some compromise. Right now I’m happy to be the dogsitter. But I want to move out, dang it, and I’m not going to let you or the dog guilt me into staying.
At one point, they asked me not to come home (that was when I’d just turned 16.) NOt for any particular reason, but my relationship with my parents has been…interesting.
My father has repeatedly asked me to stop training in TKD. It’s not feminine enough, and costs them too much money, despite the fact that the last time they no longer pay for it. Also despite knowing full well that it’s my life.
Yep, insurance rates have a lot to do with where you live. We could probably got around that by telling them where the car ‘lived’.
Anyway, there are other issues as well. We all live in Colorado. I live in the mountains.
Denver has very strict air pollution standards. Some folks try to register their cars in the mountains where there are no such standards. And no EPA testing. Then they drive their cars in Denver. Denver, and the mountain communities take a dim view of this practice, and are on the look out for it.
It is probably perfectly legal, since I would be on the title of the car. As long as the insurance was registered in Denver, that should be O.K. too.
But. It’s bending the rules for sure. And my Wife and I both work for County Government. We are the folks that try to enforce those rules.
Gaaaa. I’m no saint to be sure. And rules are made to be tested. This just did not seem worth it.
My parents asked me to give up my fiance.
He wasn’t right for me and even though he was a nice enough man, I wasn’t ready to remarry and my judgement wasn’t very good anyway—look at my failed marriage of 6 years ago!
I broke my engagement.
Long story short, they were happy, I was miserable, Drachillix took me back and I am the happiest of spoiled women with a strained relationship with my folks, whom my husband despises.
My mother wanted Mr. S and me to get together with my sister and her husband to pose for a picture of “my children and their spouses.”
My first thought in response was “Fuck no!” I managed to modulate that into a less obscene reply.
She knew damn well that (1) my sister’s husband is a big jerk; (2) nobody in the family likes him, including my mother, and we were all opposed to the wedding; and (3) he dislikes us as well and never comes to any family gatherings (fine with us). And this was shortly after said wedding, when feeling were still pretty raw.
So to try to engineer a picture of us all standing together smiling would just be a big piece of fakery, and quite frankly I’m not that good an actress. Neither is Mr. S (well, OK, actor). And I told her so.
“But I want a picture of my family ALL TOGETHER, and how bad does that look to people if I don’t have a picture of my kids and their spouses ALL TOGETHER on my living room wall?” (half-crying)
Um, in the first place, you hardly ever have people over. You don’t have any personal friends. In the second place, who in their right mind goes into other people’s houses and starts judging them by who’s in the pictures on their walls? You’re going to be shunned and humiliated if you don’t have photographic evidence of us all standing in one place? Third, you have our individual wedding portraits up there; that ought to be good enough for you. Putting up a picture of a FAKE happy family ain’t gonna make it real.
(And this from the woman who, in a fit of anger at my dad, apparently THREW OUT their wedding album [they’re still married, I have no idea why].)
Wow, I had an identical situation except I was the dumpee – and he’s never even asked if I’d come back. His parents are Evil, but he went along with them.
Hey, I LOVE having my daughter live with us, and she’s 24. She’s a damn good cook. And her cat and my cat love each other very much, I don’t know WHAT we’ll do when she does move out, as the cats won’t know what to do without each other. Her cat is definitely hers, though he loves all three of us. And my cat is definitely mine, though she loves EVERYONE.
I do sort of want a tattoo, but my immune system is bad, and I’m prone to cellulitis (a really nasty skin infection, last year I had to go in the hospital for over a week and was on IV antibiotic at home for some time after that). So I think that I’ll pass on a tattoo, unless it’s for information purposes. I kind of like the idea of getting microchipped, too, so a doctor could wave a wand and find out which medications I’m taking, what I’m allergic to, and that I will require a bribe of chocolate before doing a blood test.
My dad asks very little of me, just that I keep in touch, stay well, and be happy. However, he did make one request of me that I have found onerous to this day: he asked me never to bring home a black man. He said he’d be happy for me if I found someone I loved, but if that someone happened to be African-American, he didn’t want to see it, ever.
It’s amazing to me that someone who is 99% a cool, sweet, pleasant, good person can simultaneously be possessed of such a narrow-minded bigotry. I have never been even close to dating a black man, but I certainly would, fatherly request be damned, if I met the right guy.
The thing is that every time I accomplish anything musically my mom tries to take the credit. Playing at her funeral would be her screaming one last time–“See, I was a good mother! My daughter can do this because of ME!” Having the “talent” was always the most important thing, not making a living with it or getting paid for it. In fact, she has never thought I should get paid for getting up at 6 a.m. every Sunday and performing for people at church. And it also made my brother and sister less than me because they didn’t have the “talent.” I have tried to explain to her that there are many kinds of talents and skills, none more important thant the others.
As for the genes, the music definitely came from my father’s side of the family.
And, as the musician dopers know, you get emotionally involved whenever you perform. It will be extremely hard to do it at her funeral. At least you don’t need breath support to play a keyboard instrument, but you do need to be able to see the music through the tears.
. At least he lives in the same general area (I’m 100 miles away).
