This Altitude Is Killing Me

I woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. My head hurt, my muscle ached, and my lungs felt deflated. Flu like symptoms hit me like a ton of bricks, and I feared the worst. The last thing I needed was to be bedridden in Colorado. Coincidentally enough, my mom had the exact same symptoms. The two of us commiserated for a bit before coming to the conclusion that it probably wasn't a viral attack that knocked us both out, but rather the Rocky Mountain altitude. I really didn't think that being 6000 feet up would have such an intense effect on me, but it did. At least I didn't have the flu.

My mom and I got up early so that we could attend morning mass at St. Raphael Episcopal Church. To our surprise, we were asked to approach the front of the congregation to be blessed. This was definitely something I wasn't used to. Ba Ski led us up to the altar, introduced us to the congregation, and briefly told everyone the story of how we entered her family's lives. Neither my mom nor I was prepared for this unexpected presentation, but we handled ourselves very well, considering how woozy we were from the altitude change.

After mass, Ba Ski invited a few family and friends over to the house for a late lunch. On the guest list were her two sons and their families, and the Tostanoskis' long time friends, the Souzas. The reunion proved to be quite overwhelming for my mother. The Tostanoski boys looked much more mature, as did Bud and Betsy Souza. My mom had to take a time out to process the fact that 33 years had passed and that the people who stood in front of her may not have been the same people she remembered. Fortunately, any anxiety that she may have had was quickly dissolved when these folks happily approached her.


My mom was first greeted by the Souzas. I didn't know this, but this couple helped my family a great deal when we arrived in Colorado. When Mr. Souza entered the room, my mom pointed to him and blurted out "you helped Peter and me buy a car!" What an ice breaker. My mom may not have the best of memories, but she remembers every act of kindness that everyone has ever done for her, and the Souzas did just that.

Next to approach my mom was Will, the younger of the two Tostanoski boys. Will arrived at the house with his wife Mary and three boys first. My mom reintroduced herself, which was a very surreal moment, as Will was just a 13 year old kid when she last saw him. He greeted my mom with a big hug. Shortly after, Mike and his family arrived, and we all gathered around the table and told stories of yesteryear. For me, it was a good lesson in history, since I have no memory of living in Colorado Springs in 1975. Listening to my mom, Ba Ski, Mike, Will, and the Souzas helped bring clarity to the fragmented anecdotes that my mom has told me about our early days in America over the years. It also helped that I brought the old family photo albums for everyone to peruse through.


It certainly did not take long for everyone to get comfortable with each other. In fact, we were laughing so hard that at times I thought I was going to need an oxygen tank to catch my breath. This actually wouldn't have been a bad idea, considering that I was gasping for air every six minutes due to the altitude! I do believe that my mom was a little nervous at first, and I have to admit that I was too. Initially, the two of us felt like we didn't fit in, but that feeling quickly went away.

I think the turning point was when Mike and Will recounted stories of the mischief they caused as teenagers and how their mom dealt with it. Mike chuckled when he told the story of how one night his mom was so mad that she threw a glass cup across the table at him. Luckily, he ducked, but the glass did make a significant dent in the wall. On another occasion, he recalled his mom being so angry that she threw a pot of hot spaghetti onto the kitchen floor and then unleashed a four letter expletive. The funniest story of them all was the one where Ba Ski hit him with a wooden spoon so hard that it broke in half. What makes this anecdote so amusing is the fact that Mike darted out of the dining room, ran to the kitchen, and returned with that same exact broken wooden spoon! Apparently, Ba Ski kept it for prosperity.

Once I caught my breath from all the laughter, I explained to everyone that it was difficult for me to believe these stories because, in my mind, Ba Ski will forever be the guardian angel who rescued my family. My vision of her is of a saint, and all the talk about her spewing out four letter words and throwing objects at her kids was very difficult to digest! I didn't believe any of it, but both Mike and Will were adamant in convincing me. Even after Ba Ski verified that the stories were indeed true, I still refused to believe it--that is, until I witnessed it with my own eyes and ears.

Since Will and Mike were having a field day with stories about their mother, I felt inclined to jump on to the mom bashing bandwagon. I told the group of the time my mom took a fall and landed face down on the concrete. When she called the hospital and talked to the ER nurse, she got a little flustered and stumbled on some words. She explained to the nurse that her English wasn't that good and that she didn't remember the right vocabulary. The nurse assured her that it was ok and to try to do her best to explain what happened. My mother then responded, "Uh...I fall on my...my...boob. I have big boobs. I fall on top of them, so I don't think I break any bones." The nurse followed up with a simple, "Ah, I see. You fell on your chest." My mom couldn't leave well enough alone and replied, "No, I fell on my boob!"

This story garnered a lot of laughs from the table, but we all really lost it when Ba Ski spat out the punch line of the night: "I thought you were going to say that your mom fell on her tits." At that point I completely lost it. Tits. I couldn't believe that four letter word actually came out of the Saint's mouth! It was at that moment that Ba Ski became humanized in my eyes.

Before we knew it, 10pm crept up on us. We were having so much fun that we completely lost track of time. Ba Ski thanked everyone for coming and packed up the leftovers for her guests. My mom gave hugs to Mike, Will, their families, and the Souzas, and everyone went on their way. A little bit later, as my mom was preparing for bed, she revealed to me that for the past 33 years, she always felt guilty for disrupting the lives of these kind people, especially the kids. My mom always felt that the Tostanoski children resented her for taking away their freedom. After this evening, however, she felt a sense of ease. I told her that the first thing I asked Will was what it was like having this Vietnamese family live in his parents' basement and he responded that it was actually fun having all those kids around and that it was just another day in the life of the Tostanoskis. Had Will told my mom that in 1975, she probably would not have believed it. She does now, and that's the closure that she needed.