Marilyn Geary-Symons - Maverick

		Marilyn Geary-Symons - Maverick
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Marilyn Geary-Symons

I currently live in Portland, Oregon where I attend Genesis Community Fellowship.

My only living sibling is my brother is Michael Edward Geary, a software developer who lives in San Jose. We are close in many ways, when we visit, spend time together, it's always just plain wonderful. Mike has a lovely wife, Sue, who I treasure, and two great daughters, Rachel and Sarah. Rachel and Sarah are very close in age to my granddaughter, Azaria, my daughter Shante's daughter. And the girls are "the cousins" now. They have had some grand experiences, spend time with each other every summer, and one of my favorite moments was meeting the 3 girls at the airport as they all flew back together a couple of summers ago. They were so adorable, so grown up, and so cute. They will be spending time together again this summer, as my daughter, Shante, begins her new life as a bride. She just got married to her fiance, Paul, in July. He's just plain wonderful, and I am soooo happy for her. Azaria got to go back to San Jose with Mike and Sue and her cousins while the new bride and groom honeymooned in Jamaica. She was very excited about that, and her mommy is excited about becoming a Mrs. Paul's family is marvelous, and they have been involved with the local schools in one form or another for years; principal, teachers, devoted Christians, and now, we are really mixing it up, as Azaria is part black, and part Caucasian, and Paul's family is black. And I am thrilled to no end. What a wonderful family I have!

Mike's and my father, Charles Thomas Geary, passed away at the age of 83 in the mid-90's. My mother, Helen, and he met in the late 1930's in San Francisco, when he was stationed on Angel Island and she was a R.N. I was born in 1938. My mother was Italian, and my dad was Irish-French. My father's father's name was Martin Geary, and his mother's name was Frances DeLaTour. My dad was one of 12 children, all born in Germantown, PA, and all were redheads, he always told me. My dad told me he left home at the age of 14. I guess in this day and age that would be considered a run-away, but not so then. Times were hard then, and it was not so unusual for a young lad to take out on his own. He worked the rest of his life til his own retirement from the Union Pacific Railroad. My mother's family lived in Portland Oregon. I remember my great grandfather's home in Milwaukie, Oregon. Abramo Cereghino was his name. He was an imposing man, over 6 ft. tall with an impressive frame, and didn't speak English, only Italian. He lived with his sister, Asunta Cereghino. We all called her Auntie. They were quite a counterpoint, her stature being diminutive compared to his; she always teased about being 4 ft 10 and 3/4. She grew a marvelous garden there where they lived, and I remember the zucchini squash flowers she would pick and cook just for me, explaining to me that you could not wash them under running water as they would fall apart, but you must only gently wipe them clean, then she would dip them in flour, then in an egg batter, and fry them in butter on the old wood cook stove in their home. They were a favorite of mine, and she always treated me when they came into season. I remember the iceman had to bring huge blocks of ice regularly to put in her ice box as there was no refrigerator. :o) I must have been between the ages of 6 and 9 at the time. I was born in 1938, so this would have been about the mid-40's. Auntie was an incredible mushroom hunter, and we quite often went to the pine forest to hunt. She had a special knack for finding this one little mushroom that was Great Grandpa's favorite, she called it a puff mushroom if I recall, and she never harvested it if it had grown above the forest floor; no, she would watch, she explained, for a slight breaking of the pine needles and a little show of the soft white top of the puff mushroom, and then she would pick it - and only Grandpa ever got those. I remember Grandpa had a large wooden sign hanging near the drive that said MONTEGHIRFI. I always knew that signified where he was born. Auntie took care of him, and tho there were pictures of his wife around, I never knew her as she had long passed away before I came on the scene. Grandpa Cereghino grew grapes of reknown, and it was said many times that grape growers from California used to come to Oregon to get cuttings of his grapes for their vineyards. When I saw the movie, A Walk In The Clouds, with Keanu Reeves, and they spoke with great concern of the "mother vine", I wondered, how many "mother vines" there might be in the great California wine country that actually came from my great grandfather's cuttings :o) When I was a little girl, and my cousins, the Passadore's were also small, sometimes we even got to stomp the grapes in the big vat in the pretty scary dirt cellar where all the wine casks were lined up, after harvest, just like they did in the "old country." I remember Grandpa had a long dipping spoon, and he showed me how he would uncork a cask (they were lined up side by side, the dirt being carved into a terraced-like construction, two layers, or shelves, high). He would sample the wine, and if it was not ready, he would recork the cask. I remember the whole wine thing was a big deal in those days...who had the best wine. Oh yes, my cousins, if they ever read this, will probably scorn me for saying this, but there seemed to be a family feud about the wine. My cousins' mother's mother's husband also made wine. And oh I do remember my great grandfather would scoff at the quality of his wine. "No good!" he would say. I guess he knew that much English. :o) Here is a great story about the meeting of the cultures....my Italian mother bringing my mostly Irish father to visit at the family "homestead" in Milwaukie where Grandpa lived. Again, it's all about the wine. Auntie poured my father a glass of Grandpa's wine, apparently some of his finest, and my father, well, he downed it. By the way, my dad was 6 ft. tall. He held out his glass for another pour. Auntie put her diminutive little hand over the top of his glass, and she said, "You wait." I always loved that little vignette. She put my dad in his place all right! I'm sure he never violated the culturic code again. You are supposed to sip the wine, savor the wine, let it roll on the tongue, and then swallow. My father learned. :o)

I don't so much remember the transition of the homestead, but I know when my great grandfather and my great aunt passed away, my Uncle Bud Passadore (Mario) moved into the old homestead in Milwaukie, which covered a couple of acres, and they built a home for my grandmother, Eda Louise Zolezzo, next door,,,where some of the grapes had grown while my great-grandfather was still alive. My grandmother planted oh so many of the roses that she loved there, and she hung fuschia baskets in the pear orchard that still stood behind the house. My Uncle Bud and Auntie Elsie lived in the old house for many years, their children growing and then gone off to their own lives, John, George, Albert and Marian. We had been close playmates as kids, and spent many a feast day together, counting how many of Gammy Edie's home made ravioli's could be eaten at a sitting. :o) George usually won. I remember Christmas Eve's, when Uncle Bud would preside over the festivities in Gammy Edie's huge rec room in the downstairs of her home, the giving out of gifts. There was always a hush when he called out the next name, and a polite sense of waiting till the giftee opened the gift from the giftor, an order to things. None of this mad screaming uncontrolled dash -- no no, the banner was respect and appreciation. Uncle Bud held sway over that! Uncle Bud always held sway over the wine at a family feast, too. He had the jug at his side always, on the floor, and when someone wished to have another pour, they would pass their glass up to Uncle Bud, and he would pour. The kids always had their own meal at a separate table but we were allowed, in the family tradition, "strawberry water" which was about - yes it was - about a tablespoon of wine or so in a glass filled with water. It was a big deal, our "strawberry water." :o)

Well, they are all gone now, Grandpa, Auntie, Gammy Edie, Uncle Bud, Aunt Elsie, my mother, my dad. I remember at the funeral for my Aunt Elsie, my cousin, Al Passadore, came up to me (she was the last to pass away) and said, "We're all orphans now." I read a poem the other day, there were two lines in it that said this:

"While memory runs like a hunted thing,

Down the paths I cannot retrace..."

And my story? Well, the part about living in Mexico for the better part of a year is my favorite part lately. So with that thought I will say, that after raising my own family many years on my own as a working single mom, I pursued thoughts of what I might do after I retired. I researched and researched and decided to make a change. That's why it says "Maverick" after my name here. It was a pretty radical change for someone like me, with a minimal retirement budget, no assets, and a 1986 Toyota. Read on. :o)

Yes, after my retirement, decision finally made, I moved to Ajijic, Jalisco, Mexico. I was pretty excited about uprooting myself and making the change. I even wrote an article about it and it got put up on a website called The People's Guide to Mexico. Here's the link so you can take a look: I'm Moving to Ajijic! I'd love to go back, but next time - not alone, the Lord willing. I'd like to have someone to talk to in the evening after a day's activities - in English.

When I came back to Portland, it was for a month long visit in August of 2001. When 9.11 happened my priorities shifted, and my family and I all agreed, that I should not return, but rather, stay nearer my family. My Mexican adventure ended then, and I moved into my daughter's new home that she was building at the time. Living with my daughter and my granddaughter has been a great thing. I have enjoyed being Grandma - actually my granddaughter calls me "G-Ma" for fun - and now, that my daughter is moving into her new home with her husband, and my granddaughter is changing schools, I plan to stay here in her home and we are praying for a "tailor-made roommate". We will just have to wait and see what God has in store. :o)