Lord knows we try. After all, we only have one mother and one father. Unless you’re married, then you have in-laws to add to the list. Some of my Jewish friends talk about the “Jewish guilt” they have endured by their parents, specifically their mothers. “What’s the matter….you don’t call? I never hear from you. I forget sometimes I have a son/daughter. When am I going to see you again, in two years?  That’s ok, I’d rather be alone, you go and have a good time,  I’ll just stay home with your father. That’s OK, I’m used to it.” When I hear their stories I think to myself, my Jewish friends don’t own that guilt trip. My mother has them beat hands down.

My mother dishes out guilt like a short order cook dishes out hash browns and eggs at the Bendix Diner. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother. I just wish I could convince her of that!

I don’t think it has anything to do with race or religion. It’s that European thing and the struggles each group endured and grew up with. Many came or escaped to this country to have the freedoms they couldn’t enjoy in their home country. They both struggled and made a life for themselves and their families and worked really hard to find those “streets that were paved in gold”…the reality was, they had to pave it themselves.

Now, how do struggling Europeans tie in with an over bearing Mother? I’m no psychiatrist, but maybe it comes from the fear of loss or separation, a need to be involved in every aspect of their child’s life. Their world revolves around us and in turn, they expect the same from us.

Allow me to illustrate. About 7 years ago I was visiting my friend Ned  in Florida. On my trip home my  connecting flight from Atlanta was cancelled. So I put myself on a waiting list for flights that were leaving every half hour to Newark, where I had my car parked.

My mother had my full itinerary, flight numbers,  time of departure, time of arrival, meal or no meal flights, etc. You know, she had to have my itinerary because, God forbid, if my plane ever crashed she would be able to stop it.  And like the Air Traffic Controllers in the flight tower, my mother was able to track my every move.

After an hour of waiting for the next available flight a message came over the airport PA system: “Will Peter Bocchieri please go to the courtesy phone at the customer service desk”. I thought I heard my name so I looked up from my book and listened more attentively to the second message, “Will Peter Bocchieri please go to the courtesy phone at the customer service desk”.

What the message should have announced, because in the background this is what I really heard, “Hello Peeta….this is you Mutha. Don’t worry sweetheart, I have everything under control and will get you home safely”.

I was just being paranoid. It couldn’t be. For some reason I put on my sunglasses.

I walked over to the customer service phone and as I picked up the phone I glanced over my shoulder to be sure that whoever was on the other side of that call was not within six feet of me to identify me. “Hello? this is Peter Bocchieri.”   I think the customer service rep was a little surprised to hear the voice of a 48-year-old man. She thought the person responding to the page would be a 10-year-old child that was traveling alone..”Peter, this is Delta customer service and we have been in touch with your mother. She was concerned that your flight was cancelled and booked you on the 12:30 flight to Kennedy Airport”.

I looked over my shoulder again and in total embarrassment I said, “That really isn’t necessary, I’m already on a waiting list for the next available flight to Newark where my car is parked. Can you please cancel that flight to Kennedy?” “The Delta rep was being professional and told me that would be no problem, but in her voice I could hear her thinking “boy, does this guy have an overbearing mother. I wonder if she still tucks him in at night!”

As I hung up the phone it dawned on me what if the customer service rep cancelled my standby status because she booked me on a scheduled flight. I was being paranoid again. I went back over to the customer service desk and found out I was still on standby and they assured me they would call me when the next available flight had a seat.

Thank goodness I took care of that. Now my thoughts turned to my mother. I was livid. How could she do this? Why would she do this? How can I allow her to do this?… Like I had a choice. I calmed myself down and went to the bar that was nearby and had a glass of wine. I did not want to call her in my current mental state and say something that I would be sorry for.

I dialed my mother as I took another gulp of wine. She answered. “Hello”. “Mom, it’s me.”  “Peeta, did you hear from the airline people?” “I heard from them mom.” “Oh, they were so nice and helpful. She sounded like such a nice woman. I wish you would meet somebody like that. I make novenas every day that you would meet somebody like that.”  “Yes mom, she was nice”  “Did you meet her?” “No mom, I was paged. On the airport PA system. The ENTIRE AIRPORT PA SYSTEM. ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND???? DO YOU THINK I”M STILL A CHILD. I’VE NEVER BEEN MORE  EMBARRASED!!!

“Why were you embarrased? I was only helping!  That’s what I get for thinking of you”.  Guilt…..guilt…..guilt.