Except for Spam, I shared many common favorites with my mother, with respect to food dishes. We both had a voracious love for chocolate, her moreso than myself. I loved peanut butter moreso, so when I first discovered Reese’s cups, it was love at first bite. If my mom did “get American” with a sandwich for lunch, she’d usually whip up toasted peanut butter or a grilled cheese made with Velveeta (like Spam, another staple in the Hedrick household). Milk was always offered with option for Ovaltine added, which I almost never refused.
As it turns out, many years later in my life I discovered that such cravings (for sweets) were indeed genetic – my mother was diagnosed with sugar diabetes by the time she was 50, taking Glucotrol or some other pill initially, and having to do sugar tests by the time she was 55 – she hated pricking her fingers (sigh). She needed insulin shots by about 2010…she also hated needles. The possible reason? Back in the seventies and eighties, There was a significant Japanese population living in Gardena - and Japanese malls - you know, the Salad Bowl instead of the Melting Pot - that's what Los Angeles really was; there was a Koreatown, Chinatown, and Little Tokyo – what my mom and others also called J-town. The Japanese confectionery stores in Gardena and Torrance received a lot of my mother's business, she was a regular until about 2000. Her love of Japanese sweets took a hit for many years after that, no more sweet bean, mochi, or anpan. I will confess that once my mother had been in senior assisted living for a while, I would sneak in some her favorites, an anpan or two and definitely her favorite tuna sushi, when I came to visit at Christmas time every year.
As for myself, when I was in my thirties, I watched my sugar levels even before finding out my mother was on diabetes medication – I restricted myself to diet beverages – which is what I had been drinking a lot of since I was 13 – but that’s another story. Luckily I’ve never had to medicate for diabetes, but I have had my run-ins controlling my cholesterol level – also another story.
Any “Americanizing” of what my mother cooked was done entirely to please her husband Sam and son Jeff, and later on just me. If she had a choice, she would cook Japanese all the time. Incidentally, I knew when my mother was mad at me, because she called me “Jeffrey” instead of “Jeff”…if she ever included my middle name, I was really in trouble. But that only happened a couple of times in my life, moments I’d like to forget…she really was never as strict with me as she should have been. There were two other Japanese expletives that my mother often threw my direction…baka when I did something stupid, baka tare when I was a stupid idiot...both usually with a laugh or chuckle. These were my “verbal punishments”, shaming me whenever I goofed up – tough love… I was rarely spanked. Of course, there was also “baka janai ka da, you-aa” – her asking me the rhetorical question – you sure are stupid, aren’t you? She had to be really ticked off for that, the only bad Japanese words I ever recall her using. I had a few Americans friends whose mothers sometimes commented, “must have switched babies at birth, cuz I know my son would never do that” or the simpler “just like your father.” The latter comment would never be accepted in Japanese culture, one where respect is taught from birth, with respect for elders (I am referring to the elderly here, not just for adults when you are young) tantamount. Regardless, back in the day my close friends knew my mother from their visits to our house in Clairemont and mentioned what a great hostess she was, and I think most of my friends have fond memories of her hospitality.
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