How amazing would that be?
I want to show you the difference between two performers, Jennifer Hudson and Beyoncé. They had the same audience, same platform, yet completely different showmanship and performances.
When I remember the mother of my childhood, I remember her washing the dishes, scrubbing the floor, or checking and doubling-checking the gas burners to make sure they were completely off, and we wouldn't all be gassed in our sleep. She had a special chant she used as she checked the burners. Standing with her hands on her hips and one finger outstretched, she began, "Silver. One. Two. Three. Off." And again, "Silver. One. Two. Three. Off." If she was interrupted, she would begin again. "Silver. One. Two. Three. Off." But even if she wasn't interrupted, she would begin again. Leaving the house was an anxiety-ridden process of checking, and double checking, to make sure there would be a house to return to. Needless to say, my mother was always late.
Her rules were all that stood between her and the abyss of anxietyYears later, as an adult, I would begin to understand her anxiety about being gassed as an inter-generational inheritance from my grandmother's adolescence interred in the concentration camps. But as a child I couldn't begin to make the connection between our enormous, white, antique gas oven, and my silent, sad, and obese Yiddish-speaking grandmother, who shopped and cooked in preparation for the great famine that never arrived. |