There was a time when I couldn't even find work at McDonald's. I was almost 16, and very motivated to land my first job. For countless miles, I walked the industrial streets of Cudahy, Wisconsin applying at every fast food restaurant. A week passed, with zero response after turning in dozens of applications. After another week, I revisited the restaurants for some constructive criticism on my applications. With measured sarcasm, every store manager said, "We tried calling you a few times for an interview, but you were with your boyfriend each time. Looks like you don’t have time for a job!" Well, this was news to me, since I didn't have a boyfriend to speak of. However, I was pretty sure who the culprit was behind these tawdry tales, so I made a beeline home to casually interrogate my overly protective Serbian grandma, “Baba” Boja.
I walked in, and sat next to Baba, who was watching wrestling, one of her favorite pastimes. "Baba, I have something to ask you." She gave me a concerned, wide-eyed look and asked in a lowered voice, "What is it, honey?" I calmly responded, "By chance, did you answer a million phone calls and tell everyone that I’m with my boyfriend?" Her eyes twinkled with mischief. "No...no, you definitely didn't get any calls at all. Not even one." I explained the calls were actually for a job. She began snickering and burst into uncontrollable laughter. "Why didn't you tell me? I thought those were all guys who wanted to be your boyfriend!" After several colorful expletives, she apologized and vowed to never do that again. Of course she did anyway, with regards to absolutely every phone call...for the rest of my life.
Baba constantly encouraged to me study in order to have a better future. We’d sit together for hours, and she'd watch wrestling while I read novels in Spanish for my undergraduate classes at the University of WI-Milwaukee. My cousins and I made Baba proud by being the first in our family to graduate high school and obtain college degrees. We ate from the garden she tended to so diligently, which always resulted in a bumper crop of organic tomatoes, peppers and cucumbers. Baba was also a die-hard fan of unsliced Italian loaves of bread. We had a symbiotic arrangement where I'd eat the inside of the loaf, and she’d eat the crust, claiming to prefer that. She ate eggs and bacon daily, and we shared strong, Turkish coffee which was mostly coffee grinds. Baba always encouraged me to be frugal and watch every cent. She was wiser and kinder than anyone I knew, and definitely made sure to chase any boys away, so I could focus on my studies.
'Baba Boja,
The Serbian Arm Wrestler Who Saved My Life'
By Neda Stevic