Memories of Mom

Recently, I was prompted to tell someone an anecdote about my mother.  This made me think these will at best fade away in my memory and at worst will simply die with me. So I decided to write the story down. As these come up I hope to continue them.

The story begins after the following introductory paragraph.  If you are not interested in the background simply skip it.

Now you may say why after six years is this guy posting personal stories on a blog entitled "The Ex Republican and Never Democrat"?  To answer this, first I must say I have become very disenchanted with any efforts to influence our government.  I committed a lot energy to this effort for many years only to see the two political parties lie and cheat to serve their own ends.  I am convinced that our government is no longer a government of the people or for the people.  On top of this, my passion for influencing change also caused a riff in my family as they were inconceivably hard core liberal Democrats.  Why this so inconceivable to me is that my father made a serious fortune showing wealthy people how to avoid paying taxes yet was a militant proponent of taxing the rich.  This never made sense to me nor does it now.  This dichotomy plus a strong sense of pride in the way my parents rose from poverty to wealth on their own efforts alone is why I am proud to share this story. Especially since my mother knew a level of poverty many people have no idea ever existed in America not would they be able to comprehend the horrors of growing up in them.  She rose from that and taught me I could do whatever I chose.  I miss and thank her for those lessons.  Here now the story:

How My Mother Stood Up to an Insurance Company

This is a vignette about my mother that I hope you will enjoy.  It is a bit lengthy so I won’t mind if you opt to ignore it but I feel proud to be able to share it.  In fact the opportunity to get it written out has given me the benefit of having one more written account to archive for my children.

When I was a little kid around five years old we had a tragic house fire.  Fortunately no one but the pets were hurt.  However, the house was very nearly totaled.  It wasn't consumed but the smoke and water damage ruined the contents of the entire house.  Of course it was a very small home about 800 square feet plus basement.  It was in the suburbs nearly 40 miles from Mom’s childhood neighborhood of Hell’s Kitchen.

Well, we were pretty poor, but of course my parents didn't let on to us kids how bad it was, but when I grew up I realized that many times we nearly got foreclosed.   Having said that, I imagine Mama thought we were probably rich.  She had grown up in poverty beyond any I have ever heard of in America.  That’s a story I’d be proud to share but it isn't part of this one.  To top off our poverty, Mama probably also appeared to be quite ignorant.  You see she had TB and Polio as a child and as a result she spent the majority of her childhood either in the hospital or forced to stay home.  Naturally she didn't finish high school but really sad part is she never even attended middle school.  In fact, she only got to part of the fifth grade.  On top of all that since she grew up in the Hell’s Kitchen section of Manhattan she was well aware of the fact that she spoke very improper English and was extremely self-conscious about it.

I tell you all of that to give you some context into why I say my mama was both a brilliant and cunning woman.  You see, after the fire the insurance adjuster came by and sat her down to go over what she could expect.  Now while Mama didn't get to go to school that only meant she felt like she was inferior.  It didn't mean for a second that she was.  In fact, throughout those years of convalescence she had nothing to do with herself but read.  The New York public library is a mere three blocks from Hell’s Kitchen and Mama flat wore out many a library card.  Reading was her sole pleasure.   So this nasty insurance adjuster figures he’s got a real dolt on the hook.  He offers her a sum that would mean we would have to abandon the home and move back to the city.  My father at the time worked two jobs in the city and was often not home for days.  He would crash on the couch of family and friends who still lived in the city and come home when he would have more than a few hours before turning back around for the two hour commute to Manhattan.  So Mama to the insurance guy he had to wait until the man of the house was back.

After the adjuster left, Mama studied her policy.  You see, she didn't need my father there to resolve this, she just needed that fellow out of her sight while she figured out what to do.  There’s a glimpse of her cunning but there is more to come.  As she studied to policy she saw that it had two options: one was to receive a payment for the current value of the house and the contents.  It was this option the adjuster was using to come up with his low ball number.  Without replacement value he was able to put garage sale pricing on most of the contents.  However the other option was to have the house and its content restored but to only receive a monetary payment for the living expenses during the refurbishment.  Now the repairs to the structure wouldn't be that much because as I said earlier the home wasn't destroyed.  In fact, the kitchen where the fire started and was mostly contained was the main room that was damaged.  The rest was smoke and water damage. 

It was that wonderful smoke that Mama used to her advantage.  She called the adjuster back and when he came in she told him she didn't want the lump sum payment.  She would accept the living expenses and she was willing to wait for the restoration.  The adjuster smiled and thought once again he had a real sucker on his hands.  Then Mam proceeded to inform him that she expected all my sisters’ dresses to be cleaned to the point where not a hint of smoke smell could be detected.  That went for my clothing and my parents’ as well.  He still felt kind of comfortable but then she began her checklist.  She documented each and every little matchbox car I had and told him they too needed to be cleaned. Even the tiny little windows had to be nice a clear.  The board games, ah well, she wasn't sure what they could do to restore them but she was sure they expert restoration folks who would gladly spend as much time and effort as it took to bring them back to their original state.  Well you can imagine how this went as she meticulously documented each and every item in the house and what level of restoration she thought the policy entitled her to.  The poor adjuster slowly realized she had him, the policy did leave it up to the policy holder and it did require the restoration not replacement of the items.  They saw this as an advantage because it backed up the current value claims as opposed to replacement costs.

Well long story just a bit longer, the adjuster went back to his office and returned with a lump sum settlement that was much more in line with what was fair.  In fact, Mama was able to fully upgrade not only the kitchen but also put a beautiful face-lift on the exterior of the house making it stand out from the rest of the cookie cutter subdivision.

I apologize if I ran on too long or seem to have bragged too much.  I do not apologize for the immense sense of pride I have towards my mother.  My sole regret is I didn't do a good enough job either capturing her wisdom or affirming it to her while she was alive. 

PS.  While she was alive I never addressed her as Mama.  That sobriquet is part of my southern indoctrination.  To all of us she was either Ma or Mom.  Just goes to show you how much a damn Yankee can change!