Mom

Hello Friends,

Well, Fathers Day was a couple of days ago, so I have something to say about my mother. Some of you know my mother so this is nothing new, but for those of you who have never had the privilege, let me explain. I guess I get my mouth from my mom. Pop doesn't say much and so when he does it is something that needs to be said. Pop has a saying "Just because you may know what they are talking about doesn't mean you have to jump in the conversation." My mom and I choose to ignore this. I caught my mom in the Dallas airport telling some lady from Germany about me forging my pops signature on a progress report I got from Mr. Tucker in my 7th grade math class. Hell, she saw a biker chick in South Dakota and felt she had to tell her that her tattoo was very beautiful. The biker chick told mom that her 'old man' gave it to her and pointed to a huge, bearded, tattooed, leather jacketed, true Outlaw MC, biker. Mom proceeds to walk up to this cat and his Outlaw brothers and tell him what a wonderful artist he is. He looked at her a little shocked then laughed. But, he did offer to give mom the very same tattoo for free if she would let him. She said 'no thank you'. Mom was then there buddy and the safest 70 some year old lady in the joint.

My mom knows more about nothing than any one else in this world. She will beat you ass at Trivial Pursuit so bad you will like it. She can tell you what they call the little plastic thibgy-ma-bob on the end of your shoelace or what the proper name is for a bunch of crows. She can inform you of the name of that fancy pants artist Vinny Van Gogh's brother or who was the first Indian across the Little Big Horn (*answers below*) All of mom's units of measure are done in comparison, for example "...it took as much concrete to build that building as it would to fill 3 football stadiums full", or "...give me about as much as it would take to fill, oh I don't know, I guess about a coffee cup", or "...about the distance from my elbow to the end of my little finger". You get the idea.

But this here truly describes my mother. It was about 1978 or so. I was a scroungy looking, skinny kid in Jr. high. Now, my mother is one of the best cooks in the world. If you don't believe me ask any one who has eaten at her table. So, all my friends loved to be around at meal time. Mom would never ask them if they wanted to stay, she would just call them to the table. Scott Jobe would just walk into the kitchen and ask her when dinner was gonna be ready. Anyway, Roger Hulse was over one evening and mom called us in to eat. So there we sat, me, mom, pop, and Roger. We all had a steak, baked potato, corn, etc. Well, all of us except mom. She had salad. I asked her, while I was shoving food into my mouth, why she wasn't eating a steak. She said she wasn't very hungry and just wanted a salad. Now, my dumb ass bought this answer and continued to shovel. The diner was excellent as always.

I look back and am surprised I found my way out of bed back then. See, there were no microwaves back in the 'good ol' days', so if you wanted steak you had to thaw it out and that took a day or two. She didn't have steak because Roger was eating hers. When I asked her about this later in life she laughed and said that she had given up several meals to my friends. Mom loved my buddies, especially Roger and Scott. At Rogers father funeral a while back, mom and Scott talked for a quit a while. They always make each other laugh. When mom and pop were leaving I told them thank you for coming (Driving in from Bartlesville when your in your 80's is a big deal) Mom said "We wouldn't miss this, we love Roger." Then it hit me, they knew Ken and wanted to give there condolences, but the main reason they were there was for Roger.

I have the best mom and pop in the world. If it was socially acceptable, hell, I would live with them. Now, mom would say "You weren't invited" but she would let me anyway. Man, her cookin' every night, I would be in heaven!

This song was one of the first 'hard rock' albums I bought. When I got home with it, I put it on the record player that was hooked to our cool console television in the living room. I turned it up and ran over to mom who was reading in her chair and shoved the album cover in her face. "Look what I just bought" I said. Now, I expected to see her reel back in horror, cover her ears, and tell me to get that Satan inspired filth out of her house. But all I got was a 'That's nice. Go listen to it in your room, please' What a let down.


I did the same thing with this album a few years later (There was no cussin' on the album. I still don't cuss in front of mom, pop would kick my liver loose). And all I got this time was 'I can't understand a word. What they are saying?' I was stumped. I had know idea what they were saying. I just took the record off the turn table and went to listen to it in my room.


*Answers to the questions *
a) Aglet
b) A murder
c) Theo
d) Chief Gall

Adios,
~e~