My mother was born in Copenhagen, Denmark on January 26th, 1922... meaning that today would have been here 99th birthday, were she still alive.

Although we were never that close — once I reached adulthood — I do miss her sometimes. 


![2008_0523h.JPG](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/denmarkguy/8a2rfGTB-2008_0523h.JPG)
*The apartments in Spain where my mom spent her final years*

As I look back, our relationship was typically characterized by great geographical separation, starting when I was 15 and started boarding school in the UK, while she was living in the south of Spain. Later, I would head to college in Texas, while she and my stepdad remained across the ocean.

A few years later, they bought a house in the Phoenix area because they wanted to live in a place where *"it was always sunny."* 

There are many things I am grateful to my mother for.

*One* thing she made sure of was that I knew how to take care of myself. By the time I turned 14, I could cook, I could clean, I did the wash, I could mend clothes, I could keep house, balance a checkbook and I knew the fundamentals of budgeting and investing. 


![2008_0528m.JPG](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/denmarkguy/OPSIJPGI-2008_0528m.JPG)
*My mom and I, circa 2008*

Those skills have always stood me in good stead, although they occasionally had some odd *"side effects"* that offered a bit of insight into ~~the~~ many human psyches: In college, I more often than not made the women I tried to date *"nervous"* because *(in the words of a couple of them)* they felt *superfluous* because I didn't really *need* them for anything and I was better at what rather *"traditional"* Texas still considered *"women's work."*

Although we were not that close, one of the placed we *did* connect was in the kitchen, over food.

In the beginning, she taught me all I knew about food, but my culinary curiosity grew once I left home and from that point forward, I could always count on my widely spaced and sporadic visits to my Mom's house to turn into a week-long celebration of food.


![2008_0528h.JPG](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/denmarkguy/04N17AD6-2008_0528h.JPG)
*Flowers outside their building*

Over most other things, we did *not* see eye-to-eye: Politics, lifestyle, work, my preferences in women. In some ways, I was a perpetual source of disappointment because I had approximately zero interest in the conservative, country-clubby business magnate society crowd she so valued... and she never quite appreciated my choice to go the self-employment route as *real* work. 

Up until the very end, most phone conversations we had would include some words along the lines of *"so, are you going to get yourself a REAL job, sometime soon?"*

In retrospect, I believe her honest expression of *"caring"* was expressed more in terms of whether or not I was *successful* rather than whether I was *happy* with my life.  

My mother was sharp minded, manipulative and *very* outspoken. She had no hesitation in insulting the Pope, the President and Person next door, all as part of a normal day's work!


![0008Blue.jpg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/denmarkguy/nPKaznjp-0008-Blue.jpg)


She strongly disliked the first Mrs. Denmarkguy as well as my next partner of 10 years because neither were rail thin. She strongly disliked the women I dated in between because they were *also* not rail thin and typically *"too earthy and not very fashionable."* 

*Ironically* — because the Universe *does* have a sense of humor — there was an incident in Arizona *many years ago* when I was mid 30's and separated and visiting her in Mesa. We were waiting for a table at a steak house, and there was a very beautiful blonde woman and her mother *also* waiting there... and my mother went over to compliment the woman on her exceptional hair — and then in her usual outspoken way — publicly declared *"Why can't you marry a nice girl like HER???"* 

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Of course, it is a parent's *job* to do cringe-worthy things in front of their children, including *adult* children.

Without getting into a novel-length backstory, the irony is that *that young woman* in a restaurant waiting area in Mesa, AZ in 1994 actually *is* the current Mrs. Denmarkguy! But by the time we actually *met* again in 2003 and put a lot of old pieces together *(we actually met as kids, too, and our paths had crossed many times since 1973),* my mom had moved back to Europe and the two never got to meet. 

Mrs. Denmarkguy *still* has amazing hair, 27 years later...

The proverbial "Elephant in the room" that was never talked about is the fact that my mother was an *(functional) alcoholic for essentially all my life... and the formal *"cause of death"* was chronic and acute liver failure. She passed away on August 3rd, 2009, at the age of 87. 

When I was little, she often augmented the effect of drinking through the use of various prescription tranquilizers, and I remember her often being *"asleep"* on the couch or *"taking a nap"* at all hours. That, too, was how I learned to fend for myself at a *very* early age.


![0015TinyPurple.jpg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/denmarkguy/2LINofJL-0015-TinyPurple.jpg)


I expect *some* of her disappointment in me stemmed from my rejection of the *"mixed drinks and cocktail party lifestyle"* she and my dad, and later she and my stepdad so enjoyed.

Because she always vehemently denied the drinking *and* denied any underlying psychological/emotional issues, she always just *skated by* without comment or explanation, and would often *rotate friends* if anyone seemed to get too close to seeing the *truth* behind the carefully maintained self-image.

After she passed, I spoke with her best friend — her cousin — back in Denmark, and we shared a few stories and concluded that my mom ultimately ended up so thoroughly *believing* her own self-deception that *money and status* were more important than *love and happiness* that she just couldn't change the story, and the booze was her only way to manage the chasm between her inner reality and her outwardly manufactured image.


![0031Sunset.jpg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/denmarkguy/ceKEZaf5-0031-Sunset.jpg)


I try not to dwell on it, too much... choosing instead to celebrate the joy of cooking and food, along with the monumental irony that I *did* end up marrying *"a nice girl like HER..."*

So, Happy Birthday Mom! I hope you are happier, wherever you are... and that the martinis are good, there! I'm sorry, I *still* don't have a *"real"* job... but you'd like my wife!

Thanks for reading, and have a great rest of your week!

***How about YOU? Do you have memories of a now-passed parent or loved one? Comments, feedback and other interaction is invited and welcomed! Because — after all — SOCIAL content is about interacting, right? Leave a comment — share your experiences — be part of the conversation!***

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