THE SONIC BOOMER
Mother’s Day is imminent, and here I am with no mother for the first time in my entire life. My mother died Dec. 7 (a date which will live in infamy).
Now an orphan of sorts, it nevertheless falls to me, the eldest child, to pick up the mantle of the family. I am not cut out for this, mostly because my two remaining siblings have vowed to never speak to each other again. When they (individually) announced this, I said, “So I have lost my entire family?” They (individually) shrugged.
The issue at hand boils down to a lack of trust, as it always does. The trust was broken by long-forgotten issues real or imagined, and there’s no going back.
The problem for me is, I like them both. At first I worried about how to keep Pam out of the conversation when talking to Dave and vice versa. Turns out, it’s easy.
If there’s one thing I learned from my mother, it’s that there is no need to bring other children into the conversation when speaking with one child. The one child only wants to talk about themselves anyway. So, that’s what I do. Thanks, mom!
But I don’t want you to go away thinking I only learned one thing from my mother. I learned thousands of things, starting with how to walk and talk, progressing through brushing my teeth and looking both ways when I cross the street, all the way up to dating advice, which I largely ignored… to my detriment, usually.
Once I was “on my own,” I needed her more than ever. I remember calling her when I turned 30. “I’m 30 now, mom,” I said. “Where are all the adults?” She just laughed and said, “Idiots are idiots forever.” The unspoken lesson: avoid idiots.
I called another time right after I had won the two top prizes in a church raffle. “I need moral advice, mom,” I said. “When I won the second prize, a church member ran up to me and said I should’ve donated that back into the raffle. But it was a $100 gift card, and I have Christmas shopping to do.”
“Did you buy two tickets?” she asked.
I said I had bought six tickets.
“You won two prizes,” she said. “They’re yours.”
When she finally went to assisted living, I was amazed at how quickly everyone came to like her — administrators, staff, fellow residents, the handyman — everyone. “What’s your secret, mom?” I asked. “How do you consistently pull this off wherever you go?”
She pulled me close and whispered, “I learn their names.” It was that simple. She cared enough to learn and remember people’s names.
So, yes, I learned a lot from her. If I had written down every pearl of wisdom she’d shared with me, I’d have a book, perhaps a bestseller. But the thing about mothers is, you take them for granted. Even if you try not to, in the back of your mind, you know they’re there — always willing to listen and always on your side.
What a gift.
