Mom Read Free

since.
    For the longest time I just kept wanting to come to New York to be with her. Not that I felt lonely—I was never lonely in Santo Domingo because I had so many cousins and there was so many things to do. But I used to look at those postcards my mother would send, and I always imagined that I would either live on Fifth Avenue or in the Empire State Building—that I would live in those postcards. But when I came to New York, I was a little bit disappointed because we lived in West Harlem, and instead of living in the Empire State Building, we lived in the basement of a tenement building. But the fact that I was in New York compensated for all that—I finally was living with my mother.
    One of the things that kept me going as a child is that my mother told me that I was the cutest thing in Villa Juana [a neighborhood in Santo Domingo]. She would say to me, “Tú eres lo más lindo de Villa Juana,” and she would give me a big kiss. I felt so good. As I grew older, I met this girl named Edwina. She said to me, “José, you’re a big-headed, ugly fool!” And I said, “Edwina, you’re crazy! My mother told me I was the cutest thing in Villa Juana! My mother says I’m handsome, and that’s what’s important to me!” She couldn’t understand what I was talking about, but I knew. So my mother built the self-confidence in me that no one could take away.
    My mother worked hard, and she told me when we first came to New York, “You know, I brought you to United States so that you could have the opportunity that I never had. I want you to take advantage of everything this country has to offer.” I was in seventh grade, and I remember thinking about that and seeing her go to work, come home, cook dinner, and then leave to go to night classes to study English. And I never heard her complain: “Oh, I’m so tired! This work is so terrible!” I just saw her do what she had to do and ask me, “Have you done your homework?” So she has been, without a doubt, the most influential person in my life—in terms of work ethic, in terms of morals, in terms of just being grateful for what you have.
    Grace: Based on that, are there any words of wisdom you’d like to pass along to me?
    José: Well, to you I would say something that my mother told me once. She called me Chichi. She said, “Chichi, I see what other kids are doing. I don’t ever want you to do anything in your life that would bring dishonor to who you are or to me.” She said, “You know what I would like you to be, Chichi? Just like you’ve been so far: Always make me proud of you. I don’t want you to be the smartest kid, I don’t want you to be the best—just do the best you can, and I will always be proud of you, and I will always love you.” I’ll never forget that.
    Recorded in New York, New York, on July 12, 2009.

VALERIE JO EGZIBHER, 62 speaks with her husband, HAGOS EGZIBHER, 59 Hagos’s mother, Zodie, moved from Ethiopia to the United States in 1989.
    Valerie Jo Egzibher: I learned many, many lessons from your mom. When she came over from Addis Ababa, we got to share things with her that she hadn’t seen or ever been exposed to before. I’ll never forget when we took her to see the singing Christmas tree—the tears were streaming down her face. I didn’t know what the tears were about until after we’d left, and on the way home she said, “I didn’t know God would let me live to see anything this beautiful!” That will live in my memory forever. She was just so touched by beauty of any kind.
    Hagos Egzibher: I loved when your mom came to visit, too. Those were the happiest times for me, because your mom didn’t understand a word my mom said, but they got along so well . They both loved cooking and they both liked children, so they just communicated by hand. They got everything they wanted done. They’d be laughing when we’d come home from work, and I’d say, “Did you have a good day?” With that beautiful smile your mother