MY MOTHER is a war freak.

Ok, so I guess that's a bit of an oversimplification, but I'm sure you get my point. My mother is the kind of woman who, if stuck in a staring contest with a tiger, would probably win. She is, in fact, a bit of a tiger herself. Her voice is never modulated, her shoulders are never hunched, and she never lowers her head until she absolutely has to. Give her an ax, a spear, some armor and maybe a shield, and I swear, you'd see Genghis Khan resurrected. Of course, she's a wonderful woman: strong, independent, individual, and I love her, but still, that doesn't make her any less formidable or fearsome. She's diminutive, but she can carry herself and seem to fill a room. Her body language speaks volumes, the general gist being, "Mess with me and watch your head roll off." Which makes it very hard to be stuck with her in a car when she is very angry. The very thing that happened to my brother and me when, coincidentally, we were going to the province, a two, maybe two-and-a-half hour ride.

Let me explain. My mother, aside from all of the wonderful qualities I have enumerated above, is very proud; a trait, I'm sure, you have already deduced. She never likes being wrong. Being in an argument with her can soon turn into something like listening to a three-hour sermon of a very, very old priest: extremely one-sided, very moralistic, and boring. I usually just nod and grunt a few times here and there, once I realize she's not listening anymore. It makes things a whole lot simpler and easier. My brother said I should not argue with her at all to make things really simple but I thought, where's the fun in that? Besides, it's nice to get roused up once in a while; it heats up the body and clears the mind. It's probably better than exercise. The only place I never argue with her is in the car, since I can't readily escape, and if I jump out, I'd probably die. An advice I should have given my father during that trip.

Okay, let me elaborate. The only thing worse than being stuck in a car with my mother very angry is being stuck in a car with her when she is very angry with your father, who coincidentally, is also quite angry with her and their fighting being, basically your fault. That's when things really get complicated.

It started quite innocently. My parents were in high spirits when we first started with the trip. They asked my younger brother and me to come with them and we agreed since we did not have anything to do, besides watch television. In the car, we were discussing several things, mostly stuff I was not particularly knowledgeable and interested in. In an effort to get us into the conversation, my mother decided to ask us about school. The conversation continued until she asked us about our friends. As a sort of joke (which is also quite true), I said that most of my friends were afraid of her and that she can be quite scary at times. My idiot brother, continuing my rather idiotic joke, seconded and said his friends were afraid of her as well. We told her our friends were always hesitant to go to our house simply because of her. As an anecdote, and to prove my point, I told her that my best friend, this 210 pound, 5'11 behemoth, always gripped my hand when he visits me and she walks in on us. I continued and said that most of the time, my friends, before visiting, would first ask, "Are your parents there?"-The word "parents" being moot as my father is never really there when they visit.

Looking back, I guess we were kind of hurtful and maybe we shouldn't have said those stuff that we said, but, well, we did, and besides, we were counting on that infinitesimal patience parents always seem to have. That is, we were counting on it, until my father did something, I swear, was the biggest mistake of it all-he actually laughed.

It wasn't really a big laugh. More like a giggle, which is far worse. My mother, already quite irritated, turned on him and with a look that could very well melt ice, said, "What's so funny?" My father laughed harder and actually said, "I told you so. You can be quite scary at times." That was when my brother and me began to slink under our seats; a move we hoped would help muffle the sound of their argument. The argument, which was very trivial at first, began to snowball, with the culmination of my mother actually accusing my father of being a not very good father. My brother and I, during the course of the argument, felt like we were eavesdropping, only this time we didn't have a choice. I could only thank God at that time for the fact that we were actually old enough to realize that what they were saying was nothing but pure talk and had no real merit. Actually, now that I think about it, it was quite funny-my parents fighting over something so trivial. It wasn't funny at that time though.

Anyway, to continue, I glanced at my brother who looked like he was convulsing. I was worried at first until I realized he was actually gesturing. I said "What!?" And he hissed, "This is all your fault!" In which case, I replied, "Well, you helped." Then he countered, "But you started it." And so forth and so on until we began to understand the absurdity of the situation and we laughed. We laughed so hard we hardly realized our parents have stopped arguing and that there was only this very uncomfortable silence between them that stifled our laughter and filled the room. During that extremely long, tension-filled silence, I remember smiling at my brother and thinking, "Thank God we're such a bunch of dumb, semi-dysfunctional clowns. At least we're interesting and it sure beats watching television."

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Von Bryan says his mother did seem to lighten up after that episode. He adds: "I took all of the credit for myself, of course, but my brother said he helped. Duh. As if."

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