My Mom is 77! Happy Mother's Day!

My Mom is 77!  Happy Mother’s Day!

Mom, I am posting the following article about you on my Sunday blog: 6xPappy.blogspot.com

You may or may not remember me telling you what a blog is, so here is my definition: A blog is a personal and biographical web journal/diary/bio that is frequently updated and intended for general public consumption, as each blogger has ‘readers and followers’.  

Blogs represent the personality of the blogger and frequently inflect humor, sarcasm, flair, verve, panache, and/or sardonic wit.  Topics are random, and often include musings, rants, subjects of an educational or informative nature, or commentary on family, friends, life events, political, religious, and social issues.  Blogs also include links to other sites for reference; especially those that support a point being made on a post. The author of a blog is referred to as a blogger.

I posted my first blog about 1.5 years ago on 10.24.11, and your blog will be my 45th chapter. 

By some blogger standards, that is nothing, as I read some professional bloggers post 2-3 blogs a day; albeit usually brief.  My chapters are lengthier as a rule, and thus when I post, there is quite a bit to read on that subject.

The following is your blog chapter.  Happy Mother’s Day J

~

I can’t remember what I had for dinner last night, as I have no short term memory anymore, but I certainly remember with great clarity a host of vivid memories with my Mom.  For that, I will always be thankful; and is the reason for this blog.

As a young boy, I remember always thinking how pretty my Mom was, and how much more so than some of my friends Moms were.  I remember her coal black hair (when she had hair ~ like I should talk), and her pretty blue eyes.  I remember how dark she would naturally tan every summer; and always how proud I was to be around her.

Iremember Mom frequently locking herself in the room when her boys were out of control with fighting.  I think she did it for protection more than anything else, as our fights did escalate, not only verbally, but physically too. 

Let’s see, (this list is not all-inclusive, but it’s a good start), there was a bamboo pole to Paul’s forehead (from me) that required stitches.  There was a tire tool to my forehead (from Paul) that required stitches.  There was someone (Ken & Paul at different times) being pushed off the roof causing a broken collar bone once with Paul.  Someone else (me) getting my hand smashed (by Paul) into a gated fence hinge.  Someone else (me) being hit with a baseball bat (by Paul), after he had received imprints of the baseball stitching that were left in his cheekbone from a high hard one, thrown by me.

I remember many trips to the ER in my life; not because of sickness, but because of injury, and Mom was always the one taking me (us).

On a lighter note, I remember Mom making us bags of popcorn for our Friday night drive-in movies which were always a huge family favorite. 

I remember loving “It’s a MadMadMadMad World” from ’64, “The Green Berets” from ‘67, “The Hellfighters” from ‘68, and “True Grit” from ’69; which was the last drive-in movie I went to.

I remember being in a minor wreck in the white Ford station wagon, and how the first thing Mom did was turn around to make sure all of her boys were alright.  The wreck occurred as we were driving home from our favorite pizza place where all us boys could stand at the prep window and watch them make pizza’s.

I remember going out for dinner on Mom’s 29^th birthday, and Mom crying on the way home (which was quite unnerving as I didn’t want my Mom to ever hurt), and how she was sad because she was getting so old.  Yeah right, 29 is ancient.

I remember Mom routinely taking all of us boys (and our friends) in the green Chevy station wagon to the Phillips pool and letting us swim for hours.

I remember Mom being visibly upset only a few times.  Once was at Dad (a rare thing in their thus far 57 years of marriage), and that was when Dad surprised me with a buzz cut.  I’d been growing my hair long, and then wham!, it was gone, and caught me by surprise.  I cried like a big baby.  Big deal, wow, how cool would it be now to have hair to buzz! 

The second time was when Mom was arguing theology with her brother Donnie, and it was a dandy of an argument.  The Mace side of the family is known to have an obvious stubborn side, sometimes heightening at being obstinate.  Lewis had it to a degree, Donnie and Mom definitely have it, and then Mom passed it onto myself and Paul (we actually both have it in spades) and then I passed a very healthy dose of it onto Jackie, whom has now passed it down to O’Mike.  

I remember Mom’s stories of abject poverty from growing up in the great depression, her childhood memories being told with sincerity and conviction, and the total love and devotion that she would show for her Daddy.

My grandpa was the 2^nd most admired man in my life, just behind my Dad, especially in grandpa’s waning years as he lived with us before he succumbed to emphysema.

I don’t remember anything earlier than age 2, but I know my Mom was there, loving me, holding me, and being my protector.

I remember at age 2 climbing to the top of Mom’s curio cabinet with her running into the room screaming for me to get down.  We were living on a turkey farm at the time.  I remember walking the turkey farm many times, and always thinking that it was not only a horrible smell, but a horrible sound.

I remember at age 3 watching our new home being built in a brand new neighborhood that took maybe a week? to build. 

I also remember having a really cool 3^rd birthday party with a few of my friends, at night, and Mom baking my favorite cake, and dressing me in my favorite shirt.  I still have the picture.

I remember at age 4 running through the front glass door, hanging on for life, with shards of glass in my head, my arm, my hand, and with most of my tiny right shoulder shredded to pieces.  I remember Mom screaming in hysteria as I nearly passed out from blood loss, and the organized chaos that ensued of getting my brothers shuffled off to neighbors, and having another neighbor rush me to the hospital in their VW beetle, all in a matter of minutes. 

I still remember looking up at the Dr.’s as they stitched me back together.  And, I remember Dad bringing me home a bottle of my favorite root beer later that night.

I remember at age 6 being in the hospital from having my tonsils removed, being in great pain, and looking at my Mom sitting in the corner of my bed as I tried to sleep.  That same night, I remember the agony of coughing up a baseball sized clot of blood that probably would have killed me had Mom not been there.

I remember at age 8 having Mom with me at awards night from our Cub Scout troop that seemed to have won every award there was to win that night.

I remember at age 9 having Mom with me when I won the Junior league bowling trophy for highest league average, and then watch her place my trophy next to Dad’s bowling trophy as if it was the most important trophy she’d ever seen.

I remember at age 10 getting my first bicycle and Mom teaching me how to ride it.  I remember almost sleeping with it, as I didn’t want to do anything but ride my bike.  But, I also remember that same year Mom rushing me to the ER from a gushing head wound caused from running through a barb wire fence on my bike, and with the barb resting ¼” from my right eye, or I would have been blinded.

I remember at age 11 going to fall revival at Loma Vista Baptist Church with William B. Coble, going down front with my brother Paul to be saved, being baptized in November, and getting my first Bible at Christmas; which I still have to this day.  I remember my Mom always praying for me, always taking me to church, and always witnessing to me about Jesus. 

I also remember at age 11 playing tackle football with the neighborhood boys, and Guy Kalinka landing on my right hand.  The sight of the end of my thumb being behind my wrist was one of the most grotesque socket dislocations that I’d ever seen.  I don’t remember the dislocation hurting when it happened; but I screamed for all my worth when the ER Doc pulled it out (twice) to get it shaped right again. 

I remember at age 12 my Mom helping all the neighborhood kids build the latest and greatest version of the flying-o-part go-cart.  I also remember Mom going door to door with me as I ‘sold’ myself to the neighbors and began mowing yards.  And, this same year, having Mom help Paul and myself gather scrap wood so that we could build our latest tree house.  Which, once built, Ken fell out of.  On a completely separate note; Ken falls a lot.  He fell off the roof (still claims he was pushed), he fell out of the tree house (still claims he was pushed), and as an adult he fell off a 2 story scaffolding (he definitely was not pushed this time).

I remember at age 13 moving from Kansas City to Bartlesville and almost immediately getting a job.  Mom was up with me at 4a on Sunday mornings helping me roll newspapers (with my Aunt Meda), getting me strapped up on my bike with a load of Sunday papers that weighed more than I did, and having a breakfast waiting for me when I returned home around dawn from my paper route.  

I remember at age 14 when Mom encouraged me to save my newspaper route profits, and how proud she was when I bought with cash my first Honda motorcycle.

That allowed me the ability to add a 2^nd newspaper route.  I also remember the horrible ice storm from that winter, and how I had to ‘walk’ my paper route as it was not safe to ride my motorcycle.  Only for me to then slip and fall about 3 blocks from home, and break my left hand in the fall, with Mom taking me for yet another trip to the ER for a cast.

I remember at age 15 when Mom helped me open my first checking account at Plaza Bank, and learn to start paying bills with it.  And, how she was my biggest fan when I bought my new yellow Kawasaki 100, and then the red 125.

I remember at age 16 when Mom was so proud that I’d been hired by McDonald’s, and how she wanted to be the first one to take a ride in my Dodge Charger.  I remember Mom faithfully cooking me a full meal that I would eat by myself at about 3:30 every day before going into work the night shift which started at 4:00.

I remember at age 17 when Mom told me I was nuts for not pursuing the most beautiful girl in the world, Pam Hajducek.  She told me how she’d been praying for me and Pam, how sweet she was, (and I already knew this girl had killer looks).  I also remember when she wanted to be the first one to ride in my new red Firebird Formula, but actually, that first ride was reserved for another girl in my life (Pam).  I sure am glad I listened to Mom on this one . . .

I remember at age 18 when as a Sr. in High School, I was elected President of the Sr. DECA class at our school, and shortly thereafter being promoted to Asst. Mgr. of McDonald’s.  Mom was my world’s best cheerleader.  I loved making my Mom happy.  But, I also remember how sad Mom was when I moved out into my own apartment at age 18.

I remember at age 19 marrying Pam, and seeing the tears of joy flood my Mom’s (and my Dad’s) cheeks.

I remember at age 20 when Mom was ecstatic that I’d just been named Manager of the year for Long John Silver’s in Tulsa.

Not to close the book on my chapter of memories with Mom, since they continue on with me to this day, as I am truly blessed to now be an almost 55 year old man with a healthy Mom that loves me, still prays for me, and only wants the best for all of her sons. 

But, the next chapter of our life did start with her first grandchild, as I remember at age 21 when Mom was at the hospital enjoying the birth of her first granddaughter, Jacqueline Renee.  Wow, and we’re off to the races again with 33 more years of memories that I’ve got to blog about another time.

I love you Mom.  Happy Mother’s Day.  Always and forever, - Michael