Ms. MARY CHAPIN CARPENTER (Singer): My name is Mary Chapin Carpenter, and I was named after both my father and my mother.
Before moving to Manila, my parents had come to the U.S. in the 1960s to pursue their dreams of higher education, my father at Yale and my mother at New York University.
My mother and father had been among those in favor, my mother more actively so, because she had more time.
On Sunday morning, the postman came and there was this letter from the British passport control office in Berlin asking my father to send his and my mother's passport to have the visa entered.
My father pulled a scavenger's wagon and my mother worked at a sardine factory where she sprinkled sugar, vinegar, and sesame seeds on the fish to be dried.
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But I ate hot pot growing up in the 1970s and '80s in South Carolina, and if my mother and father could find enough ingredients there to prepare the gut-busting hot pot meals we had at our house, you can find them anywhere.
To my father and mother, whose eyes were wide open with question, he showed the picture of my second brother printed in the morning edition of Kyoto Shimbun.
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We talked to the IRC and they helped us again to find an apartment and this time my mother and father found jobs.
So after a few months, my mother's people sent me and my brother back to this little village in Arkansas to my grandmother, my father's mother who was raising me, and she used to braid my hair.
My father is retired from the United States Air Force and my mother has dedicated her life to working in public education, often in very challenging school districts.
My father died suddenly and within months so did my mother, both at a young age.
My father traveled extensively as a jewelry salesman in the Midwest, and my mother was a real estate agent who took on other work as money needs arose.
Eventually, my father ran a mail-order pharmacy, and my mother became a bone marrow transplant nurse.
My father was out fire watching and I well remember my mother and I making a dive for the Anderson shelter, mother clutching the large brown handbag containing birth certificates, insurance policies, bank books, identity cards etc - not forgetting our precious ration books.
My father became a pharmacy technician while studying for his US equivalency exam, and my mother worked as a grocery store cashier while attending nursing school.
My father, so thin and athletic, looked almost frail with shock, while my mother, whose beauty was still remarkable, and who was known on the reservation for her silence and reserve, had left off her characteristic gravity.
My parents were outgoing, hospitable people, their friends culled from among my father's associates at the office and from the women who along with my mother had helped to organize the Parent-Teacher Association at newly built Chancellor Avenue School, where my brother and I were pupils.
My mother was rabidly Irish and my father rabidly Catholic so it was perhaps inevitable that as a boy I would rabidly root for Notre Dame.
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My father Leonel and mother Adriana have given me their support and have helped me a great deal and still to this day I can always count on them.
My father left when I was two years old, leaving her -- my mother and my grandparents to raise me.
One winter day, a pipe burst in our basement, and my mother had no idea what to do, so I called my father and figured out how to fix it.
Growing up I lived with my mother, my father, two older siblings and my grandparents, and I can truly say that I had the best experiences in life.
Then my father went on a winter holiday to Cuba (my mother remarked on this with some surprise and maybe approval) and came back with a lingering sort of flu that caused the visits to lapse.
My mother and father always taught us that our only way out of poverty was through education.
Mr. RASHID: We sending back to our home to helping my mother, father and relative, neighbor, whatever they need money.
Both my mother and father were raised by parents who lived through the Great Depression and who were very frugal.
My mother and father had those dreams for me.
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My father in law and late mother in law had a pair of Longines for around 30 years, and other than their wedding rings, this was really their only indulgent heirloom, a big deal for them.
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