In the middle of learning – by Donald F. Gately

My mom had some interesting verbal tics.  We enjoy remembering them and laughing. Not because she is in any way the object of ridicule; the opposite is true. Rather, it’s just the funny things she used to say.

She’d preface certain remarks with the phrase, “As I say.”

At the risk of launching into an anecdote best filed under, “You had to be there”;  it’s amusing that a humble housewife from Albany Avenue, who left Brooklyn maybe ten times in her entire life and flew on a plane, I think,  one time, felt such confidence when intoning publicly to use the Churchillian prologue, “As I say.” 

It created the impression that she believed many of her pronouncements would be consigned to posterity by her grateful children. Such was this belief that she’d punctuate utterances of any importance, with the phase, “As I say.” It was as though she were anticipating that her aphorisms would live among foundational maxims, such that would-be English or history majors would cite…

“As Shakespeare said…” (Hamlet 3.1.56–58) ; 

“As Kennedy said…” (“Inaugural Address 1961”); 

“As Mary Gately said…” (Kitchen, Albany Avenue, 1974)

I’m ashamed to admit that I remember little of what followed, “As I say.” Perhaps she rallied her five children to , “Fight on the beaches… fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall never surrender.” Anybody who grew up with us in East Flatbush during this period wouldn’t be surprised if this were true. There were always fights at the beach and in the streets. But it’s more likely she was reminding us to wear a sweater in December, or to avoid the bathrooms in the subway.

To some extent, my mother was right. As is true in many families with a significant number of children (we had five), many of her phrases and anecdotes live on long after her passing. 

One of my favorites, “Oh Donald, you are so badly done to.” 

The purpose of this expression was to remind me, anytime I complained about any small obstacle or problem, of all the privileges I enjoyed in my life. If I complained about putting out the garbage, walking the dog,  bringing groceries to my grandparents who lived just two blocks away,  my mom was sure to sarcastically intone, “Oh Donald, you are so badly done to.”  It was synonymous with, “Just get over yourself.” 

It was such an effective comeback to my teenage insolence that I’m certain as you read this, you can hear her saying it.

My response?

I’d be forced to laugh. 

I wanted to sustain my youthful impertinence, but even at 13 years of age, I knew she was right. She’d make me laugh in spite of myself. 

Touché Mary Gately.

“As I say.”