Peni was born in Winnipeg Canada and traveled with her family down to California. I hope her other son, my brother Tim will correct me if I am wrong in any of this. In West Covina she went to high
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My first memory of Mom is that of being loaded on the back of a bicycle, mom and I pedaling into the warm air. I can remember the smell of the new bicycle tires, I can vaguely remember the sights. I remember the feeling though, so strongly, and I think these feelings are responsible for my life long appreciation for the bicycle.
I remember mom cooking mac and cheese for me in Texas, and sending me into the living room with a big dill pickle to suck on, while I watched Electric Co. I remember Mom looking down on me from a window of our apartments in Florida, as I negotiated a fight in parking lot. Emboldened by her 'presence' I declared, "My mother will kick your Ass." Looking back for confirmation, all I saw was her silhouette shaking it's head from side to side. I remember Mom breaking down and buying Tim and I a 'Slip and Slide'. I remember her throwing my first and only birthday party. It was awesome.
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I remember Mom holding me in her lap as she drove me to the hospital after falling out of an U.S.Army truck whose tailgate was Not latched closed.
After the divorce from Dad, Mom went to school full time, worked full time and provided for Tim and I in a way that was truly remarkable, providing us with not only food and shelter, but with an Apple IIc, and relatively fashionable clothes. Against a lot of momentum, Mom fought her way back to upper middle-class, buying a house, starting her own business and eventually helping me to buy a restaurant.
Grandma Macy was the best mother a kid like me could have asked for. So many of my life skills I learned from her, because she thought it important that I do my own cooking, laundry and cleaning. She taught me to stand up for myself, and she also stood up for me. Like the time when we moved from Tallahassee to Durham, N.C. and the my new teacher would paddle me in front of the class everyday for asking her to repeat herself, as I did not understand a single word of 'southern drawl'. A letter sent to her by that teacher, explaining the reasoning behind my public humiliation was spellchecked, misspelled words circled and graded with a big, fat, red ink "F".
For my childhood and much of my adult life, my mother has been a hero to me. A fighter with such raw courage as to make anything seem feasible. The world seemed comfortable and safe to me, largely due to her. I love her very much, and know she would have LOVED to meet you.
In the latter years, her and I had some rough times. The relationship of Son/Mother fractured a bit and a real rift formed between us. If you want, someday we can talk about the last part of her life. For now know she was Irish and without a doubt, one of the best cooks I have ever had the privilege to be served by. And, she was a fantastic Mother!!! Those three things should be enough for you to begin with. Maybe we'll talk some more over some King Taco Salad.