Yes, Mother. I can see you are flawed. You have not hidden it. That is your greatest gift to me.
My mother was extremely controlled, sort of flawless. And I always tend to be a bit more hippie.
My mother used to take me to flea markets in my stroller, and I would just rummage through the piles. You've got to dig through the overstuffed racks that everyone else just walks by. It's the only way to find the cool stuff.
I come from a family of compulsive collectors, and my first memories are really all about collecting. I remember visiting flea markets with my mother or my grandmother - she goes to local ones around Varese, Italy, every Sunday when she's at home.
I didn't know about competition or the Olympics until Peggy Fleming won in 1968. My mother looked after all of the competition stuff. I just skated. I didn't really love competition, but that was the only way to get better. You'd see more talent.
My father is Nigerian; my mother is from Texas and African-American. My father was the first in his family to go to university. He flew from Nigeria to Los Angeles in the '70s to go to UCLA, where he met my mother. They broke up before I was born, and he returned to Nigeria.
My mother told me Homer Ditto was not my father. Nope. Mom had had a fling with some other guy who was my dad. Some dude who didn't stick around too long who Mom was happy to get rid of. She chose Homer, and Homer chose me, so he lent me his name even though I didn't have his blood.
My mother is an ordained minister. I'm a Muslim. She didn't do back flips when I called her to tell her I converted 17 years ago. But I tell you now, you put things to the side, and I'm able to see her, and she's able to see me. We love each other. The love has grown.
I have always been a flirt. My mother says whe I was a child, I used to stand outside the house and just smile at everyone who walked by. Like, 'Please take me with you!'
When I was very young I was sort of floored by the fact that my mother and my father and everyone I knew was going to die one day, and myself too. I had a sort of a philosophical crisis. I couldn't believe that we were mortal.
When I was nine years old, living on the south side of Chicago, my father was a minister and my mother used to scrub floors. I had seven brothers and four sisters. I told my mama, 'One of these days I'm going to be big and strong and buy you a beautiful house.' That's all I've ever wanted to do with my life, is to take care of my mother.
I studied at a university in Florence and finished my degree. My mother was very strict about this recipe: You need to get your degree.
We lived near a supermarket, and whatever they threw away, we would get it, and my mother would make soup. Or she would get a big can of lard, a big can of meal, a big can of flour, a big can of beans, and fix the same meal for months.
A fluent tongue is the only thing a mother don't like her daughter to resemble her in.
I speak Hindi fluently because my mother speaks only in Hindi and Urdu.
Everything my mother made had to cook for 80 hours, and when she made matzoh balls she didn't know fluffy. Everything sank.
My mother hoped I would meet a nice doctor or barrister or accountant who would marry me and take me to live in what is now called Fashionable Dublin Four. But she felt that this was a vain hope. I was a bit loud to make a nice professional wife, and anyway, I was too keen on spending my holidays in far flung places to meet any of these people.
When I left the house to become an actress, my mother literally flung her body across the door and said, 'You're killing me!' It was a very strict household. That can be okay, but there was also no nourishment, either.
My mother's kitchen was built to be the focal point of our house. I got into the kitchen often as a child.
My father was a professor of folklore, and my mother was a teacher until she was married. I had a good relationship with them, and the only argument we had was when I went to university and wanted to go into the theater instead of studying to be a lawyer.
