Page 352 - Wordsmith A Guide to College Writing

This is why I wasn’t allowed to attend funerals. This is also why my
mother hated to mend my clothes while I was wearing them. The only 5

garment one should properly get sewn into is a shroud. To ensure that

the Evil Eye did not confuse my pinafore with a burial outfit, my mother

insisted that I chew thread while she sewed, thus proving myself very

much alive. Outwitting the Evil Eye also accounted for her closing

window shades above my bed whenever there was a full moon. The
moon should only shine on cemeteries, you see; the living need

protection from the spirits.

Because we were dealing with a deadly force, I also wasn’t 6

supposed to say any words associated with mortality. This was hard

for a 12-year-old who punctuated every anecdote with the verb “to
die,” as in, “You’ll die when you hear this!” or “If I don’t get home by

ten, I’m dead.” I managed to avoid using such expressions in the

presence of my mother until the day my parents brought home a

painting I hated and we were arguing about whether it should be

displayed on our walls. Unthinking, I pressed my point with a
melodramatic idiom: “That picture will hang over my dead body!”

Without a word, my mother grabbed a knife and slashed the canvas to

shreds.

I understand all this now. My mother emigrated in 1907 from a small 7
Hungarian village. The oldest of seven children, she had to go out to

work before she finished the eighth grade. Experience taught her that

life was unpredictable and often incomprehensible. Just as an athlete

keeps wearing the same T-shirt in every game to prolong a winning

streak, my mother’s superstitions gave her a means of imposing order