The Cloth One
My eighty-four year old mom on Mother's Day said, "You know, I read the paper pretty thoroughly," this I believe to convince any and all that she still has her full wits about her. And although there is no major debate about whether she does or doesn't the subject did come up during a recent visit as to the eventuality of such a question and how are we to go about it. How should we act? How should we not act? Clifford asserts of course that she is too young to talk about such things and we the six of us her kids all blindly hope that is true.
"...and there are some people I just don't like."
I had been daydreaming and had to wing it. "I hope I'm not one of them," I said.
"No," she laughed, "but that George Bush, if you really follow him, he...is...so, he really says some stupid things." My mother's short, patriotic hiatus from Bush bashing is over.
I thought I should stick to positive themes.
"You like his mother though."
She had to think about it a moment but relented to say, "Well, yes, I like her, but her son is really," and here the machinery of her emotions and intellect were spinning so fast the gears were stripping and no cohesive thought could find its way into production, so she settled for the simplest way to say it, reiterating her earlier statement, "He is so stupid."
She was in good spirits, my mom, on Mother's Day. Had I encouraged her further she would have told me her feelings about other politicians. She was against the new Democratic Dallas mayor because she felt the woman should be raising her kids instead of running for office. There is, I think, a Republican from Texas in the Senate or Congress whom my mother truly loathes, Kay Bailey Hutchinson (?). Back in the days when my father was a living pollster and they were invited to political functions my mother had been insulted by this woman's gloating manner as Kay Bailey and several women, including my mom, collected their coats from the guest bedroom. My mother wore a cloth coat; Kay Bailey wore some sort of exotic, or farm raised rodent-like, animal skin.
She told me my sister and family are coming from their Bay Area suburb to Dallas and Austin the last weekend in July, and it would be nice if we could all--from Arlington and Lake Highlands, and Austin, and Kansas, and New Orleans--meet and be like a large nice family, briefly. I was thinking well sure at the very least we could give that a try.
"Of course I'll come." After f-ing up last Christmas I am determined to be more family oriented. "I mean unless my name shows up on some list that has me consorting with known anti-government subversives..."
Filling in the pause after an appropriate number of beats, my mother said, "You mean me."
"I'm just saying."
"Well, you try to make it."
"Okay mom, Happy Mother's Day."
"Thanks for calling." (Thanks for answering)
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My eighty-four year old mom on Mother's Day said, "You know, I read the paper pretty thoroughly," this I believe to convince any and all that she still has her full wits about her. And although there is no major debate about whether she does or doesn't the subject did come up during a recent visit as to the eventuality of such a question and how are we to go about it. How should we act? How should we not act? Clifford asserts of course that she is too young to talk about such things and we the six of us her kids all blindly hope that is true.
"...and there are some people I just don't like."
I had been daydreaming and had to wing it. "I hope I'm not one of them," I said.
"No," she laughed, "but that George Bush, if you really follow him, he...is...so, he really says some stupid things." My mother's short, patriotic hiatus from Bush bashing is over.
I thought I should stick to positive themes.
"You like his mother though."
She had to think about it a moment but relented to say, "Well, yes, I like her, but her son is really," and here the machinery of her emotions and intellect were spinning so fast the gears were stripping and no cohesive thought could find its way into production, so she settled for the simplest way to say it, reiterating her earlier statement, "He is so stupid."
She was in good spirits, my mom, on Mother's Day. Had I encouraged her further she would have told me her feelings about other politicians. She was against the new Democratic Dallas mayor because she felt the woman should be raising her kids instead of running for office. There is, I think, a Republican from Texas in the Senate or Congress whom my mother truly loathes, Kay Bailey Hutchinson (?). Back in the days when my father was a living pollster and they were invited to political functions my mother had been insulted by this woman's gloating manner as Kay Bailey and several women, including my mom, collected their coats from the guest bedroom. My mother wore a cloth coat; Kay Bailey wore some sort of exotic, or farm raised rodent-like, animal skin.
She told me my sister and family are coming from their Bay Area suburb to Dallas and Austin the last weekend in July, and it would be nice if we could all--from Arlington and Lake Highlands, and Austin, and Kansas, and New Orleans--meet and be like a large nice family, briefly. I was thinking well sure at the very least we could give that a try.
"Of course I'll come." After f-ing up last Christmas I am determined to be more family oriented. "I mean unless my name shows up on some list that has me consorting with known anti-government subversives..."
Filling in the pause after an appropriate number of beats, my mother said, "You mean me."
"I'm just saying."
"Well, you try to make it."
"Okay mom, Happy Mother's Day."
"Thanks for calling." (Thanks for answering)
- jimlouis 5-24-2002 10:27 pm