Beyond the Peace Corps and Through the Looking Glass: 2014

My mother always seemed old to me; our house was quiet and she and my father hardly talked with each other - a proposition difficult to begin with since he worked nights at Beech's Market on Rosemead, stocking the shelves. and she was around me during the daylight hours. The most excitement I recall as a grade schooler was taking my dad "lunch" - driving the back roads late at night...it seemed like such an adventure at the time.

Neither of my parents were risk takers or active adventure seekers - I know I was a mystery to them. My mother seemed to fit the character of many mothers of the '50's and probably wrote in her personal Diary of a Mad Housewife. We never went hiking or swimming or camping; although they took me to swim lessons at the plunge. The most active I remember our small family was around holiday times when we got together with my mother's large family - the women would cook dinner and the men would wait, watching television. As soon as the dinner finished, the men would go bowling and the women would clean up. Not my idea of bliss. The liveliest we ever got, our family of three, was playing Yahtzee, which my dad loved. Scrabble was also big with my mom and me and we spent time companionably, although we rarely talked about ideas as I did with my "other mom" - Liz's mom, Eileen. I suppose that's what happens.

My mother seemed to have few interests (and my dad fewer), but she liked puzzles and gardening. I remember giving my mom a woodburning art set and my dad a wine tasting class for Christmas when I was in my 20's - neither used either of the gifts. My best friend, Liz, told me to stop trying to make them into people I wanted and accept them as they were. As I now hear the odd things my own daughters think of me, I wonder who my mother really was - trapped by the times, the societal restrictions, the marriage and motherhood bonds, subsuming her wants and needs for approval of others? With a daughter who wanted her to be more - more what, I don't know. My mother never shared her thoughts or feelings with me or anyone else as far as I know. Some are fortunate to have that knowledge of their mothers; I did not.

One thing I do remember vividly (and the reason for the woodburning gift) was my mother's artistic ability - especially to draw (for someone like me who draws stick figures, this is miraculous). I remember when I was little, happening upon a cluster of pencil sketches my mother had done in her younger years, along with a personal journal which I shouldn't have read (but did), learning about things like a painful and failed pregnancy before they adopted me. I only discovered that my mother had talent in the 6th grade when we were studying the Greek gods - she never claimed anything for herself. My report was on Athena, and I wanted a picture - my mother drew one for me - a beautiful picture of the goddess. She showed me other sketches she had done - studies of men and women's bodies - and of hands.

I remember being enthralled by those hands and only wish I could find the sketches again. The attention to detail and the love of drawing showed me a woman I never knew. Other than that time, I never saw my mother draw and I now wonder why. I suspect that many of us regret not knowing our mothers more as human beings rather than carrying forward the baggage from childhood. Our values and experiences were so different, and I couldn't have been an easy child (or adult!) for her with my boundless energy and demands, but my memories are still there of her trying to please me. And, she obviously left a legacy - in Borneo, I too, was attentive to the detail in hands and feet (albeit not the human variety).

In all their colorful glory:

The speckled back foot of the monitor lizard

The bright orange feet of the dwarf Kingfisher

And the strange 'Gumby' feet

of the Anhinga or Oriental Darter

My favorite bear - the beautiful sun bear.
In this picture, looking like I ski - what a pickle!

Sun bear nails are so long that they look prissy

They eat termites and fruit - their long nails claw the wood for the grub
And their long tongues slurp up every morsel

But it was the primates who fascinated me.

Starting with the lesser monkeys:

Long tailed Macaque

Looks like my latest manicure!

I had no idea I would love the Proboscis monkeys as much as I did - they were a treat to watch for the several hours we spent at the sanctuary in Sandakan. Their bodies fascinated me - from their cleanliness and beautiful color to the power of their thighs, hands and feet.

Enormous hands, well, and nose

Enormous hands and feet belie the wives' tale of determining ratio and length

The male leader looked pugnacious, about to throw a right hook

Showing his masculinity and claiming his territory

The females are more petite and seem to show more emotion

The most expressive hands I saw were those of the orang utan. In the following pictures, it looks like this 'man of the forest' is communicating something - almost like sign-language, but with the elegance of a Balinese dancer.

And the amazingly beautiful reason for hands - to connect with others. This mother swung into the Sepilok feeding area and the baby was hardly noticeable - it was as though they were one body. The entire time the two were at the feeding station - perhaps 45 minutes - the baby's hand never left the mother's body.

Piggy-back arrival at the feeding area

Entwined Hands

Eating a banana, but not letting go

Still attached (the l o n g arms help!)

Tasty fingers

Diving into the whole bunch

Just won't let go - no matter what the position!

Swinging out again into the forest

Babies of the silver leaf monkeys are born bright orange and are easy to spot. While this baby seemed a bit more adventurous than the orang utan infant, the long tails of the langur monkeys allowed the connection to lengthen - connecting tail to tail, but never far apart.