DECEMBER 1, 2009 – MOMMY and ME BLOG # 14 – WE MISSED THE BALL DROP THIS TIME

I'm not quite sure what year it was, 00, 01, 02? Anyway, as an adult, I can't remember a memorable time when I "went out" to bring in the new year.. Years ago, it was the thing to do . . .getting together with a group of people and joining in on the who could show the most enthusiasm about how the upcoming year is going to be better for you and for me . . . and downing a bottle of champagne or “Hennessy” by themselves, etc., etc., etc. I can count on half-a-hand the times I had a gig on New Years eve.

But I do certainly remember since the early 80s, spending new year eves with Mommy. It was always a time that we would have something to eat (spagetti or chilli) and watch "Dick Clark" in New York counting down the last seconds of the year. But a couple of times between 2000 and 2002, I did have to play a couple of gigs. So . . . what the heck, I took Mommy with me. But one time stands out in my mind. Mommy and Me and a friend, took to the streets that New Years eve and Mommy partied heavy! Mommy ate, gave advice, danced . . . ate, gave advice dance . . . and ate, gave advice and danced some more. My friend “Lorna” supervised when I was on stage, but on the breaks, me and Mommy boogied, boogied and boogied some more. She had the greatest time!

We danced and laughed and just had fun. For Mommy, I think that it was a welcomed change from staying home and watching television. I think that she remembered it and treasured the time she spent laughing and dancing with me. We spent a time together that was different. Yep, Dick Clark didn’t see us sitting around, WE MISSED THE BALL DROP THIS TIME.

JULY 8, 2008 – MOMMY and ME BLOG # 13 – HOW KIND SHE WAS

JULY 8, 2008 – MOMMY and ME BLOG # 13 – HOW KIND SHE WAS

Yesterday was my Mother’s birthday. Mommy would have been 97 years old. I went to visit her yesterday afternoon and as I sat there, I began to think about a conversation that I had with my little brother Kermit, about Mommy. I believe I remember us talking about HOW KIND SHE WAS. During the conversation, he reflected on a time when he consistently observed Mommy to have and stay evenly balanced when it came to being kind to people.

As I sat by Mommy yesterday, thoughts of Mommy’s softness just began to spill out at me. I began to recall certain mannerisms that she had and expressions I saw on her face as she performed acts of kindness. She was never aggressive or over baring, but rather passive in fact. An example of it is, when someone was grieving, Mommy would just patiently stand by until she could take advantage of a moment with that person, just a moment, to say just a little something that would make all the difference. I could see her now. Just standing in the back ground, gradually making her way forward with her hands clasped together, about waist high . . . that was her normal stance while committing an act of kindness . . . I’ve seen her do it hundreds of times.

MAY 28 2008 - MOMMY and ME – BLOG # 012– THAT REMINDS ME OF MOMMY

Often, I sat out in the back yards (“yards” because me and Mommy’s back yards are like one, without a fence) and just enjoy a cigar with the evening air. Today as I sat there, I just began to see things THAT REMIND ME OF MOMMY. Many times we just hung out in the yard together and she’d always look around and began to comment on the pretty things and the things and the things that I liked and the things that she disliked . . . the things she called “ugly.”

Of course, there was my shed made of rusting metal that set amongst a thick layer of ground covering plants, the one with lots of “character,” the one she called “ugly” or “that old ugly thing.” By it, was a tree, an attractive flowering tree, baring a branch that smacked me in my right eye causing a sever corneal contusion. The branch hit me when I was cleaning and clearing out the tall weeds and smaller trees that were in the back of the shed. Every time we set in the yard, she would complain about the long lagging branches on that tree. I decided to make her happy and trim the tree when the branch almost took out my eye. That’s the branch THAT REMINDS ME OF MOMMY.

There’s a bush in the rear of Mommy’s yard that you wouldn’t know is there until the fall. It’s about four and one half foot tall and about five feet wide. It turns a fiery red at the end of September and is noticed by every passerby. That’s when Mommy notices it too. She would insist that the tree was never there until that time of the year. She just wouldn’t believe that it has always been there, but she would surely notice it when it turned fiery red. She always insisted that I planted it there to surprise her. It’s just another thing in the yard THAT REMINDS ME OF MOMMY.

Speaking of “ugly,” this wheel barrel is ugly. . . . so ugly that it’s a discussion piece. It’s a old wheel barrel that had to be manufactured around the end of World War I (the big one). I just saw it over in the corner of my yard setting in the thick ground cover. I put it there about four years ago after Mommy told me to get rid of it. But I planted some flowers (inpatients) in it and Mommy loved it. She thought that it was a clever thing to do. It’s just something else in our yard THAT REMINDS ME OF MOMMY.

MAY 13, 2008 – MOMMY and ME – BLOG # 011 – MOMMY’S 96TH BIRTHDAY PARTY . . . HER LAST ONE

Mary planned to make everyday a special day for Mommy. I’d walk into the house and there were vases of flowers everywhere, all of them different. There were roses on the kitchen table and . . . well different kinds everywhere. Mommy loved to set amongst them and just become part of them. Each day Mary would care for them, re-arrange them and rotate them to different rooms to bring a fresh view each time.

It wasn’t any different on July 7, 2007. Mommy turned 96 years young this day and Mary and me planned to make this day an extra special one for Mommy. There was ice cream and a cake with a special message wishing Mommy a Happy Birthday. The house was filled with flowers and Mary and her assistant Sylvia, decorated the house with balloons and party favors. The curtain was set to go up for a joyous time.

Mary got Mommy up a bit earlier this day and got her dress for the gathering. My friend, Lisa and I arrived with the cake that showed a big “96” and “Happy Birthday.” We all surprised her and sang Happy Birthday to her as she just smiled and laughed and cried. Mommy had her “GEQ Jazz” cap on as the party began. Lisa and I took turns video taping Mommy. There is tons of video tape that I really haven’t looked at yet, but we all took a load of pictures as Mommy cut the cake and dipped ice cream.

She was surprise to see the living room decorated to the max . . . balloons, streamers and favors all over the place. Of course it’s always fun to watch Mommy when she feels like acting a little silly. Mommy really got a kick out of blowing on that whistling thing that jumps out and then rolls back up. She began to do a little dance using her wheeled walker. We have it all on tape and pictures of it all too.

When I think the times like this one, times when Mommy is happy and carefree, times when she is not burdened with anything, times when she is uninhibited and wants to talk (and order folks around), it makes me want to keep the good times coming just to see her smile , , , that smile, that smile.

I was on my lawn mower the other day for the first time this summer. It makes a lot of noise and it wakes Mommy up when I pass her bedroom window. It never failed, I’d give her about ten minutes to get up and I would look up at the window to see her. She’d be there waving and smiling. I miss her . . . I REALLY, REALLY MISS MOMMY.

APRIL 28, 2008 – MOMMY and ME BLOG # 010 – TO MAKE MOMMY LAUGH

I have always loved to hear Mommy laugh. I could remember when I was a little boy stalking around trying to hear what Mommy, Daddy and their friends where saying. When they had company or when we visited, Mommy seemed to be the one that had the best time, judging from the number of times she laughed. When she was laughing, I knew that she was happy . . . and I got use to that. On the phone talking to friends was always an interesting time to set and listen. When I was a teenager, I remember her sitting for hours on the telephone having those knee slapping, good ole hardy laughs that made me know everything was alright. If it was anything that I didn’t like, it was to see Mommy disturbed or sad about something. I could always tell, because I have those same three wrinkles on my brow that she had. When she was sad, they became much more prevalent. When I was in my teens, I remember her telling a long time friend of hers (Mrs. Gaines) that when I was about four years old, I would climb up into her lap and try to smooth them out with my fingers. The irony of it is, I remember doing that.

Most recently though, I would walk into Mommy’s front door and she and Mary would either be watching TV in the living room or Mommy would be having breakfast lunch or dinner in the kitchen. Either place, I’d take one look at Mommy and I could tell if she was in the mood to play and laugh. The test was to go play with her . . . maybe to ask for a bite of her food or get a fork and eat from her plate with her or tickle her ears, or one of my favorites, put my finger on her nose. If she was in the mood, she’d good right on eating with my finger on her nose just to signify that she was ignoring me. It wouldn’t take long . . . she’ll eventually “get tickled” and the laughing will start. But my real favorite was the foot tickling. Mommy would be all comfy in her chair and I would lift up the cover from her feet, remove her shoes and start to tickle them. She would just kick and giggle and laugh and we would have a good ole time.

Mommy’s laughter has always been something that I loved to hear. It was a sure fire way to tell how she felt and to know that everything was alright. TO MAKE MOMMY LAUGH was to make her happy.

APRIL 21, 2008 – MOMMY and ME BLOG #009 – THOSE FACES

Mommy had one of the biggest, prettiest smiles anyone has ever seen. One reason for that is that she had beautiful teeth. She had all of her teeth till the end, and she’d tell you that. But the smile and teeth became obsolete when mommy made her faces. I don’t mean just clowning around, but I mean when something made her make a funny face. Many times it was something she put in her mouth. For instance, about twelve years ago, Mommy became a member of a club at a neighboring church called the “Over Forty Club.” Just like the name said, you had to be over forty years old. I was only thirty eight, but they made an exception for me because they just loved it when I brought her. Anyway, it was time for their annual Christmas affair which was a formal occasion. I really wish I had a picture . . . but Mommy was decked out in a silver formal dress with matching accessories. She was beautiful. After dinner, we sat at the large round table with about five other couples as the speaker came to the mike. One gentleman passed a tin of “Altoid” mints around the table. I knew that the mint was a bit strong for Mommy, but I felt like having just a little fun. Mommy placed the mint into her mouth and she was handling it . . . only for a few seconds. Mommy’s face slowly began to draw up, just a little as she was adjusting her purse in her and a little more when she looked at the table and a little more when she looked up at the speaker and suddenly she had a full fledged “I got to get this out of my mouth” look on her face. Mommy would never take anything from her mouth once in . . . she’d almost always just bare it. As I leaned over to coax her to take it out, the face intensified. By now, the whole table was looking as I did like a parent would do when they wanted the child to spit out the gun. I put my hand under her mouth and strongly requested the mint as she finally let go. She quickly recovered and broke into a hardy laugh as did everyone at the table after they knew that she was OK. But as pretty as Mommy always was, that lady could make a face you wouldn’t believe.

More recently, Mommy and Mary set in the back yard on a warm summer day. I was finishing cutting the yard and tidying up. This was a good day for Mommy because she had plenty jokes this day. As I put the tools up, she talked about my raggedy gardening shirt that I was wearing and continued talking about how dirty my feet were going to be if I didn’t put my shoes back on. She even talked about how skinny my legs were. Oh yeah, she felt good this day. I finished up and went inside for a cold beer . . . this was a hot day. As I drank the cold one from the bottle, I walk over to where Mommy and Mary were sitting. I had a plan. Being that it was rather warm and that it was about time that she wanted her cold water, I knew that making the cold beer sound and look irresistible, she would start signifying. When she felt like it, she was good at it too. Her favorite thing to say was “why are you drinking that ole stuff, I never taught you to drink that ole stuff.” Mary knew what I was about to do, as she just smiled. I said “man oh man, this beer is really, really good . . . you want some Mommy . . . here” . . . and handed her the bottle. She felt so good that day she felt that she would surprise me . . .and took it and took a sip. I just stood and watched, . . . Mommy made a face of all faces and almost frantically, looked around her chair for a place to get rid of it. After she did, the face continued for a few seconds, before she broke into the hardy laugh, all the time asking “what the heck is that.”

Yeah, it was another time when Mommy’s funny faces prevailed. If she put any type of food into her mouth and she didn’t like the taste, THOSE FACES that she made can be seen fifteen miles away.

APRIL 8, 2008 – MOMMY and ME BLOG #008 - THEN CAME MARY, OUR ANGEL

I was approaching the end of my rope. Mommy was becoming more dependant which required more hours of care and attention. In her confusion, Mommy sometimes wanted to warm up a meal even if it was 3 o’clock AM. From a sound slumber, being awakened by a blaring house alarm that was activated by a smoke detector, was one of the more shocking adventures I’ve ever had. Receiving notice via the home monitoring service that they’re receiving a smoke alarm activation at her address when I was 30 minutes away would be second in line. However. I was NOT going to do anything but what I promised Mommy that I would do. I was going to keep her at home to care for her. No nursing home for her, NO!

I arrived to the end of my rope trying to find that person(s) that I would have to look after her. For then, only a few hours a day was what I needed for starters. Every agency that was referred by the city and others struck out. I mean . . . when you’re late for your first appointment . . . calling the following day to explain why you couldn’t make it . . . showing up with your grand kids. . . . NO. However, a prayer was answered and a blessing arrived in the form of “Mary.”

I phoned Mary after her niece who was a friend of mine told me that her Aunt has a background in homecare. I talked to her only briefly before I had that feeling that this experience will be different. Our interview was the greatest. Full of life and “genuine” would be the word. Mommy and Mary (M&M) hit it off right away. Mommy began to look for Mary each day and enjoyed the life that Mary brought with her. Mary prolonged Mommy’s life . . . I know it.

Mary frequently arrived with flowers for Mommy and just little things that she bought on her own to make Mommy comfortable and to have fun with. Mary accompanied Mommy and me to doctor visits and even the nurses expressed pressure to know her. She would tend to Mommy when we went to church and senior citizens meeting and gathering. Mary frequently told me to “go on and do what you have to do . . . I got this.” They had a ball together and Mommy didn’t miss a step. They were always on the go . . . out to dinner, to get ice cream, church, meetings, dinners, everywhere. Mary shook off every straight jab, right cross, upper cut and left hook that Mommy through at her. They became an inseparable team, Mary, (my Sister) is the best. She always called Mommy an Angel, but Mary is OUR ANGEL.

MARCH 31, 2008 – MOMMY and ME BLOG #007 – THE TIME CAME . . .

Mommy settled in real well in her new home. She loved it when the mail lady would accidentally leave a piece of my mail at her house. Come to think of it, I think that she did it on purpose. She would make it a point to get dressed and proudly bring it to my front door and ring the bell. She would say “I don’t want to come in” which meant “let me in” . . . so that’s what I did. She always came in and looked around and commented on how cluttered things were and why I don’t have any living room furniture, yep, every time. I would remind her that I was just like her . . . one who saved everything.

I began to notice the Mommy started to repeat herself a lot and forgetting things. Of course, knowing that it will progress, I couldn’t help but think about the first time I had to deprive her of her freedom and stop her from driving. She was 89 when I decided that it had to be done. It was the first of a series of real tough things that I know I had to do. I remember the look on her face when I told her that I loved her and cared about her and that I didn’t want her to hurt herself or anyone else. She had already had one accident two years prior after leaving her home in Taylor, hitting the back of a van. No one was hurt and the driver of the van took care of her and notified me. I wrestled with stopping her then, but just couldn’t take that freedom, that independence away from her at the time. She was so proud of being able to go to church and shopping by herself. But THE TIME CAME. She sadly looked at me and said, “you mean I can’t drive my car no more?” She looked away and she never said anymore about it. She really didn’t want to hurt anyone else.

Mommy’s condition worsened and it concerned me more and more. A couple of times I had to come off of the performance stage and rush home after being notified of an alarm at her house. Another time, a friend called me while I was on stage, informing me that Mommy sounded sick. I would have to take even more of her independence away. I promised her that she would stay home, but it got a bit rough for me . . . I needed help . . . I knew she wouldn’t like it, but THE TIME CAME.

Not really knowing in what direction I should go, I found an association in this city that dealt with referring home care agencies. That was my first stop. To my dismay, the agencies that I was referred to, all three of them, seemed not even to care about anything, much homecare. Arriving late for initial interviews and finally arriving shabbily dress and the like, didn’t impress me, “not a lick” as Mommy would say.

I saw the direction that this search was going in and had to change gears. I knew that I had to talk to people that have been where I was going. A good friend referred me to an Angel . . . THEN CAME MARY.

MARCH 24, 2008 – MOMMY and ME – BLOG #006 – THE ENTERTAINER

Mommy loved to entertain. At anytime, she welcomed the chance to entertain guests. I remember as a real little dude, Mommy always wanted everybody to be comfortable and to have fun . . . whether it was at our family home or the home of someone else to that matter. It never failed, she would always pitch in, surely to give advice along the way.

I wanted her to continue that feeling of responsibility that “hosting” gave her, but it backfired on me a little when I gave her an 87th birthday bash. It was arranged to be at a local smorgasbord type restaurant. The guest would include her Seniors’ Club members along with long time friends from her church and the old neighborhood. The atmosphere at the gathering was upbeat and friendly. A friend and I arranged to play group games and the like, but at a point, I caught Mommy just sitting there by herself, with a look on her face, as to say that she was being lift out of the responsibility of entertaining her guests . . . yes, she was being upstaged. Mommy kind of wanted to be the center of attention when she wanted to be. She sometimes thrived on it. However, I think that it was because the games being conducted by my friend and I took the focus off of the “Birthday Girl.” But I quickly recovered . . . here’s how: a very good friend and colleague of mine, Hugh Burrell, came straight off of the softball field in his softball uniform, just to sing Mommy’s favorite song to her, “You Are So Beautiful To Me.” It was so timely, she had to pause to figure it out. She thought that it was impromptu, but it was actually pre-arranged (but Hugh did have to play a game that day and didn’t have time to change).

Mommy had another chance to play host at her 89th birthday bash at her old home. She had just had her basement remodeled and of course, she had to “show it off.” It was great! It was a semi surprise party. I pulled up and started bringing in food as she continually asked me what I was doing. The guest started to arrive as she continued playing the roll of the surprise birthday girl. The seniors club and church members came, ate, partied and had a ball.

Her 90th birthday party was the first affair I planned for her at her new house. I wasn’t going to try to surprise her . . . I mean, how could I when the tent guys wheeled in the tents, tables and chairs, not to mention the caterer and his stuff to accommodate old friends from the old neighborhood, the church . . . and the Seniors of course! Cousin Nancy charmed the guests with group games and those partners of mine that had met Mommy arrived . . . and everyone just enjoyed themselves and the yard. Mommy bragged on her flowerers and escorted people around the yard and just was delighted to play the “host” again.

She was always at her best when she was “calling the shots.” She had to know what, how and where anything was going on or happening. She had to “know” that everyone was comfortable. Yep, Mommy was quite THE ENTERTAINER.

MARCH 17, 2008 – MOMMY and ME – BLOG #005 - HAVING FUN WITH MOMMY

Mommy began to really enjoy her new home and became very comfortable and happy being right next door to me. We had a lot of fun inviting each other over for dinner and sharing the scenery of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass and her telling me where I should plant even more flowers and what would look “pretty” over here and over there. She always told me that I should cut down that “big old ugly tree.” But that’s the over 100 year old tree that I set my hammock under along with the barbeques that provide the shade. But what she was really constantly insisting that I do is to “get rid of that old rusty shed in the back.” Well, that old shed held the wheel barrel, the yard games a couple of screen tents and pieces of lumber, a couple of shovels and . . . well just some stuff that I needed easy excess to. It’s aluminum walls were rusting and it had old painted wooden doors on it, but it set there baring a lot of character . . . just planted there with beautiful manicured grass and ground cover plants surrounding it. But Mommy was right . . . it WAS ugly, but it was ugly with a lot of character.

One sunny summer afternoon, Mommy and I set in the back just laughing and reflecting. In passing, she mentioned a game that she enjoyed playing earlier in her life. It was “crocket.” Months prior, I purchased a crocket set on sale somewhere, thinking that it would be a fun yard game, a game that at the time I became very bored with because I didn’t bother to read the directions. Striking the wooden ball like it was a golf ball didn’t’ seem to exciting after it never went in the direction intended. I dragged the crocket mallets and balls from the shed and set up a course. Mommy straddled the ball with the mallet without any direction (the proper way) and on her first attempt, hit the ball straight through the first wire. I hadn’t seen her so excited in years. Since I was a little dude, it was the first time I heard her let out that “yell” like that. She was so excited, her smile brightened each time she hit the ball. For years, she walked with a slight limp because of her right knee, but I detected no limp at all for the next 20 to 30 minutes. When it was my turn to hit the ball, she would wait almost impatiently for me to miss and to take her turn. I’m telling you, Mommy became a teenager for a good 20 to 30 minutes. I’ll never forget it.

In the yard is where Mommy & Me shared a lot of memories and laughed and joked together. We laughed at and with each other but she loved it when I joked with her. I walked from my rear door one late morning, only to catch her “helping” me de-weed one of the flower beds between our houses. I think I probably startled her when I opened the door, because she looked back at me with that “Who Me?” look on her face. In her hand, was a Mum plant that I planted the fall before . . . the whole pant, that she pulled up , , , root and all . . . she thought was a big dead weed. After I regained my composure, I just started to crack-up. She just broke into laughter with me, her classic laugh, the one that she doesn’t move or anything, the one that you could hardly tell if she was breathing or can take a breath. She just couldn’t stop laughing as I continued to joke with her about her not knowing which are weeds. Actually, the reason that she was startled when I came out was that she had realized that she had pulled up a plant and was sneaking to put it back before I found out. Mommy was something else . . . yep, it was fun HAVING FUN WITH MOMMY.

MARCH 10, 2008 - MOMMY and ME – BLOG #004 – THE KNOCK ON THE WINDOW

It was the perfect set-up. Mommy’s new house had no basement, so she couldn’t put onions there. A little smaller, but she grew to really like It after some new window works and other small cosmetic modifications. I installed some new, what I call “hang onto” handles, which she said made the bathroom look “ugly.” But she of course grew to appreciate them later. The two yards connected and I installed fencing around the entire two properties. With much more grass to cut, l upgraded my powered garden tools, which included a 48 inch cut power mower. She overheard me state to a friend of mind that it was my new toy. Mommy took that statement literally and really thought that I was having “fun,” spending on average four and one half hours of cutting and grooming the lawns twice a week (three times in the mid summer months). “Fun,” well no! Don’t get me wrong, I loved grooming, as well as gardening (planting flowers). I find myself doing exactly like Daddy (my other hero) did . . . and that’s to finish up, go shower up and come back out with the water hose and just look at the job.

It never failed, Mommy would hear the mower and knock on her side living room window to get my attention. She probably knocks for a while and I wouldn’t hear her for the noise. But I made it a point to look up at the window when I was on that side of the house to see if she was knocking and waiving at me. Once out of about five times I look up, there she was in the window, smiling and waiving. Many times Mommy would join me outside to sit and enjoy the newly groomed lawn, sitting with the garden hose and watering one of the back yard flower beds.

It was just about anytime I was between the houses making noise with a power tool, working on a repair of project, Mommy would come and knock on the window and waive. Shoveling the snow in the driveway was another time. When she heard the scraping of the shovel, she would knock on that window and waive baring that big pretty smile. Again, I would catch her that one time of five times, when I’d glance up at that window. This winter, each time I’m in that drive, by habit I’d glance up at that window, expecting to see that smile. I keep forgetting that she won’t be there anymore. I still hear that KNOCK ON THE WINDOW.

MARCH 3, 2008 – MOMMY and ME - BLOG #003 – RE-PLANTING A FLOWER

There were many, many good and even tense times at Mommy’s house over the years when she was there alone. Being all of thirty minutes from me, it became increasingly difficult to just run out to her, especially trying to start a brand new business, trying to keep appointments and hustle gigs. I’d make it a point to nip the snow shoveling in the bud by getting what I could up in the middle of the night sometimes and then saving time when I’d go out the next day for the rest. I faced the same concerns in the summer, trying to keep her lawn together.

She and I would plant flowers each year. It was like a ritual every year, loading up and going over to “Brocks” after Mother’s Day to pick up our flats of impatients, marigolds and petunias, “petunies” as she called them. Every time, it never failed, I’d plant at least one flower in the wrong place, a place that she didn’t want it and then tell me to re-plant it “closer” to something. I had to make sure that before I left that day that every flower (about 4 flats) were in the right place or she’d try to re-plant them herself. She tried it once and toppled over into the flower bed that I had just watered. It was a hilarious moment when she came strolling up the driveway towards me, covered in mud from her forehead to her knees. She could hardly walk for laughing so hard. After re-gaining my composure all I could do is laugh and make fun of her too.

I knew that eventually I’d have to make a decision on having her closer to me and then even with me. When Mommy felt like it, she’d instruct me (sometimes in detail) about what she wanted me to do when the time comes. One of those instructions was that she didn’t want to live in a nursing home. I promised her that she wouldn’t. It was around 1998 when we first talked about the home next door to me being perfect for her. The owner was an elderly gentleman who was resisting going to live with his son. It was time in the early part of 2001 and I purchased to home for her. She asked me to have a screened in porch built on the back so that she could watch her birds, which she loved doing. After a number of other modifications to the house, it was time. Packing her three bedroom, full basement, two car garage home was a huge undertaking. It will have to go into a two bedroom home with no basement. The movers placed the large things where (and near) they would set. But I stuck boxes of stuff anywhere I could.

But I’d never forget the look on her face when it was time to leave her house for the last time. She stood in her dinning room staring at what was her living room where many memories were made. I knew that she had just realized that she wouldn’t be back. I felt that I had to re-assure her that she would be just as happy in her new home. I had to re-assure her that I will be right beside her and keep her happy and safe. I had to re-assure her that everything will be alright. It was like RE-PLANTIING A FLOWER closer to ME.

FEB. 24, 2008 - MOMMY and ME – BLOG #002 – THE DISAPPEARING BIG YELLOW SIGN

Mommy often wanted to get in her car and drive to my house with a “big pot of green beans” or something good to share with me. This was always a tense adventure for me . . . thirty minutes to my house from hers . . . 86 years old and alone . . . driving a car?. I knew that I would have to confiscate the keys very, very soon, but she was just so proud to pull up in my driveway and blow the horn to let me know that she had arrived. She always emerged from the driver’s seat with that big pretty smile on her face . . . the smile seemed to ask for my approval.

One Sunday afternoon, an afternoon that I didn’t actually drive to her house and follow her to my house without her knowing it, she called and told me that she was on her way. An hour passed before I got on the road and traced the preset route that we went over many times. She was to turn left at the BIG YELLOW SIGN (A “Midas Muffler” sign) . . . a sign that one couldn’t miss, the sign that actually was at the corner of the very first traffic light after turning onto “Grand River Avenue” about ¾ of a mile. After getting to her house and finding no signs of her, “THE VOICE” told me that she’s still on her way to my house. While jetting back to the crib, she called me from her little cell phone that I got her months before, the phone that at any time she had no idea how to operate even after spending hours trying to teach her to use, the phone that she’d leave at home almost all of the time. She called my cell phone from the numbers that I had plastered all over the back of her phone. Her little voice said, “hey Guy . . . Guy, I’m lost.” After I regained my composure and everything else, I finally narrowed down where she was. I found her about a quarter of a mile from my house in a party store parking lot, a party store parking lot, in the dark setting in her car, in the dark..

This is what happened. She missed her left turn and kept going till she was almost downtown (about a 45 minute ride). She decided to turn around and come back and observed the name of a street that she was familiar with and turned onto it and pulled into this parking lot to call me. “I didn’t see the yellow sign Guy,” she insisted. I found out why the next day, I found that Midas Muffler had sold their business to “Firestone.” The Firestone sign was red and white . . . the BIG YELLOW SIGN had disappeared

FEB. 19, 2008 - MOMMY and ME – BLOG # 001 – ONIONS AND THE BASEMENT

Thank you for your interest in the “adventures” of Mommy & Me. I call them adventures because there’s not a better name for what we’ve done in the last 36 years. My Mother was one of the most fascinating women that I’ve known. She became more and more fascinating the older she got. Therefore, I think that I’ll start with the more recent adventures.

Mommy married my other hero in 1942. Daddy died in 1972 at the age of 76. It was the start of a very special relationship with Mommy & Me. I felt a need to keep her happy and protect her. It always satisfied me to see and to know that Mommy was happy. Her laughter was the strongest indication that she was happy. But another was when she was “humming.” Mommy loved to hum as she cooked and stayed busy or just sitting around. Many times you could make out a certain Hymn that she sang in church days before.

She continued living in the family home in River Rouge until she married Mr. William McAlister (a great man) in 1985. “Daddy Mac” passed away in 1991. Mommy was alone again, residing in a suburb of Detroit, about 30 minutes from me. The four bedroom home, although in a very nice neighborhood, was just huge and it had a basement in which Mommy kept her onions. I didn’t like her to take that journey up or down the stairs just to get an onion. Every visit (sometimes as often as each day of the week), I’d routinely hit the basement and bring the onions back upstairs. Sometimes she’d thank me for looking out for her and other times she’d give me that Mommy look, like “don’t mess with me.” But each time, probably right after I leave, she takes those onions back downstairs. To this day, I don’t know why she wanted her onions in the basement.