“Happy As A Pig In Sh!t”

WHAT MOM SAID

Often enough I’d come to believe it didn’t take much in life to be happy.

Or, ignorant.

And, judgemental.

I wasn’t wrong.

ŚWINIA

Shveenn-ya.

Polish-speak.

Pigs.

Happy in their feces.

Must be something to it.

FUN FACT CONFESSION #1

My Late Mother Had A Filthy Mouth.

Alarmingly offensive, it’d make sailors blush with envy.

Horrifically embarrassing in public to everyone, but her.

Unremorseful in private, in that contradictory way devoted Practitioners of Deniability claim sole provenance.

Swearing in Polish or Ukrainian – or whatever hybrid-bastardized Slavic tongue of the moment – she could, and did, with regularity …

“Curse anyone to damnation with extreme truculence and unmitigated prejudice.”

When the occasion prompted her.

Mostly Always unprovoked.

UNRELENTING IN HER GRATUITOUS TIRADES

Embittered with disdain and intolerance of whomever sauntered randomly across her path.

She was remarkable in this regard.

A hypocrite capable of extraordinary deflection and dismissiveness, I came to study and understand as irrational.

Like one of her sons (*).

Hint: He writes a blog.

THE WHORES, THE POOR WHORES …

Were the most frequent and favored prey.

They were Kurwa.

Brudne Kurwa.

Dirty Whores.

Because to mom, they were the only type.

If you were a Whore, you were Dirty.

Especially, if you were blonde.

An unforgiveable crime against humanity.

Dirty Blonde Whore.

Pure evil.

Mom’s logic.

SHE REALLY MEANT

Floozies.

Tarts.

Sluts is the word I’m looking for …

Not the common street walkers hustling the corners in Parkdale – Toronto’s once defiled Queen Street West corridor – known for its sketchy subculture of illicit narcotics trade, sex traffickers and row of halfway houses boarding patients released from the nearby mental health facility.

They were honest working girls with pimps.

Making a living.

Respect and empathy from mom.

She’d known a few.

Pimps, included.

MOM WASN’T COLOR-BLIND

Breeding Out Bigotry … 

… died in her generation …

At The Hands of Dear Merciful God.

Its where her journey unfolded.

Perdition wasn’t in the cards.

A DEVOUT HYPO-CHRISTIAN

At heart …

She had faults.

Forgivable faults.

Like all of us.

HER TRUE BELIEF WAS CLOAKED

By ignorance, isolation and distrust, fermented by delusion and faith in men.

Whatever Great Epiphany lead her to seek enlightenment was rewarded with convictions.

She heard God.

Listened …

Acted …

With determined resolution backed by infallible strength, I doubt anyone knew the depth and capability.

Prayers.

Beyond tolerance and acceptance.

To Divine Love realized.

In gratitude.

Peace.

ASSUAGING THE CARNAGE

Of an uncertain fate by a trifecta of misogynistic captors left her emotionally imprisoned, spiritually nullified and financially destitute.

A single mother of six children, stricken down through the loss of trust and broken promises by these Cowardice, Shameless Bastards she’d once loved enough to bear their offspring.

“Way to go, Papa.  How’s The Eternal Shame Suite treating you in Purgatory?”

Nice one.

Slow clap … 

HER HEART

Blossomed And Awakened To The Truth.

In unselfish deeds.

Of giving – and doing for others – without expectations of being reciprocated or acknowledged.

Affection – fragmented and wanting, was rarely never displayed openly within her family – is her legacy.

A DIVINE GIFT OF LOVE IS OUR FATE

Through her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren  … of an unspoken bond, lives almost miraculously in her memory.

Stubborn and contentious as she was, through these tenuous relations she fostered a Fragmented Family Perpetuated.

Untenable and difficult as her.

Like Swinia.

We wouldn’t have it any other way … 

FUN FACT CONFESSION #2

Pigs are happy in their defecation.

Is it such a heinous, undignified thing?

Perhaps, there’s merit.

Recalibrate perspective from a swine’s side of the fence:

Be humble.

Grateful where you are at the moment.

Content with simple pleasures.

Don’t take yourself seriously.

A COLONY OF FERAL PIGS

Inhabiting Big Major Cay – Pig Beach – in Exuma

Are known to swim in its pristine turquoise waters.

With birds dancing and chirping on their backs.

A beautiful thing these two.

Snort it out.

Not in.

Life isn’t always mud and sh!t.

We have choices.

Stay dirty.

Be clean.

Oink.

 

 

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