Suffer in silence—end of discussion

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Although my beloved mother passed away in 2001, she left behind a lifetime of great memories as well as some classic “old-school” expressions she would often spring on me during my formative years. I pass these on to you now in the hope that they may come in handy someday when you find yourself in dire need of a witty comeback or snappy retort.

Her favorite phrase from those halcyon days is now my favorite. It’s great advice when dealing with a whining kid, obnoxious friend or pigheaded partner complaining about a trivial matter. To this day, I can picture my mom staring me directly in the eyes and firing the salvo, “Peter Whalon, suffer in silence!” Simple, yet direct—suffer in silence, that’s it, end of discussion. No matter how valid I believed my case to be, I was done.

My mom wanted to hear no more of my guff. Wouldn’t you just love to drop that pearl on your boss or mother-in-law the next time they begin blathering to you about some perceived wrong done to them. Put your hand in their face and emphatically declare, “Suffer in silence Mr. Bossman!” We can dream, can’t we?                                                                                                                                                          Occasionally I would rebel and disregard the command of total silence. During those few encounters, my sainted mother unleashed the big guns. The stern advice no good Catholic boy could ignore without risk of eternal damnation was, “Young man, offer it up for your sins.” Game over, I never once protested the “sins” decree. I would remain silent and offer it up for my sins, although many times I was a little confused as to what “it” was.

Often my parents would revert to classic expressions with their own little personal touch. For instance, if I failed to eat all my squash at dinner, I just might receive the command, “Eat all your squash, there are kids starving in Tijuana!” Tijuana–I thought it was China. Not in my house due to the simple fact I had never been to China; however, I had been to Tijuana. I always thought it a little strange because I rather enjoyed TJ and all the brilliant colors, and was mesmerized by the stripe-painted donkeys’ intended to look like zebras.

My dad usually opted for the easy way out when confronted with a difficult question or request from me. Where my mother believed it was her duty as a parent to impart her wisdom on me with glib, insightful retorts, I believe my dad thought if he gave me a nonsensical or illogical response I would become discouraged and bypass him in the future, going directly to my mom for approval.                                                                                                                                                                 “Hey dad, can I go to the movies with John tonight?” He would most likely reply, “Save your money.” If I persisted with the same question, he might add, “Don’t take any wooden nickels.” If his plan was to frustrate me, it generally worked. “Save your money” became his default advice well into my adulthood. He even began using it on most of my friends when they would visit.                                                                                                           Sadly, the classic “old sayings” many of us grew up with have vanished from today’s culture. Who, over the age of fifty could forget the sensible, concise advice bestowed on us by our parents and grandparents. Such traditional guidance as: “A stitch in time saves nine; all’s well that ends well; a penny saved is a penny earned; a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush; don’t count your chickens before they hatch; don’t put all your eggs in one basket; a watched pot never boils.” And of course, from Mama Whalon, “Suffer in silence!”