When 9/11 happened, my mom had picked up my brother from school and waited to hear from me and my sister. I was starting at SVA and CC was starting Art and Design. Cell phone use was still in its infancy and pay phones were still a thing. I remember desperately trying to get home or reach my mom. When I did arrive home safe and sound, mom was cleaning and painting. The world was ending and here she was fixing the house.
Fast forward to the NYC 2003 blackout. I was interning at Times Square and spent the day with my boss and his staff running around trying to do damage control. My mom called the office. Everyone wanted to know, “How the hell did she get through when everything is down?” (Answer: She had a very ancient phone that used the electric line – this explained how she was able to make emergency calls between my grandmother and her children.) My boss and staff were trying for the last hour to make calls or send emails wirelessly. When the day was done, my boss drove me home. My mom had a few words for him upon arriving so late. Blackout or no blackout.
My siblings were doing homework by candlelight, reading Harry Potter with their friends. Mom was somehow painting her bedroom using backup lights. After I arrived though, it was time to call it a night. Everyone went home and to bed. When I woke up the next morning, I noticed this pattern with my mother. Exasperated, I said to her, “Mom why is it when the world is about to end, you are painting or fixing the house?”
Her answer in typical Jacky fashion, “Just because the world may be ending, and everyone is a fucking idiot doesn’t mean I stop everything. I stop for nobody and nothing. I have shit to do and things that need to get done. I have no time for foolishness. And you need to be ready when the devil comes knocking on your door. You gotta look good when trouble comes.”
A recent conversation with a friend reminded me of this. I had a moment yesterday. It’s okay to fall down, to cry, to be angry, to be frustrated, or to feel helpless. My mom was the one who would barge into my room, smack me and pull me out of bed when I was down. She is no longer here to call on the phone and advise. So I did the next best thing.
I went into my closet and started throwing things out that no longer served me or brought me joy. I organized everything and then did prep for the next day to start painting the bathroom. I am doing what my mom did.
Just because the world may be ending, doesn’t mean I am.