Mom's last day...taking the long way home....



Mom on her 50th birthday, 1991



Mom's graduation picture

April Showers bring May flowers. 

Except in our family, when April seems to bring funeral flowers....in 2000, it was my own mother.  Last year, it was my beloved Aunt Dot, Dad's older sister, with whom I spent every summer and holiday. Only last week, it was my mom's best friend, "Aunt" Chris. 

People always remember others' birthdays, but unless you've lost someone close you rarely remember the exact date of someone's death.

For me, with the passing of my own mother, April 19, 2000, I acknowledge TWO traumatic dates: the night she actually suffered her cardiac arrest right before my eyes on April 16 and the date we turned off life support three very looong days later. For the longest time following Mom's death, I wasn't sure which date she actually died.  A friend of mine at the fire station later told me Mom was written up in the report as DOA when paramedics arrived, but I was too shaken for the EMTs to tell me this at the time because I was alone, and since we had no DNR (she was only 58) they did their best to revive her as I stood in horror. 

I DO know the date of our final day together, which was April 15, the Saturday before Palm Sunday 2000, so instead of dwelling on the sadness I feel every April on my mother's "anniversary," I choose to remember that final day we shared, because as I grow older, it becomes more vivid to me, instead of more faint, something I find curious. Somehow I feel it was Mom's way of "being there" for me years down the road. Somehow she must've known she would be leaving soon.

My younger brother, Mark, had just returned from his honeymoon in Bermuda.  He married his wife Susie only two weeks earlier. Mom was dog-tired from the frantic pace of wedding planning because she had a lifelong battle with Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis and all the later health complications that came with that disease, so I thought little of her swelling joints. These flareups happened routinely with her.  She overdid it, that's all, I told myself.  

She'd had two episodes where she couldn't breathe twice that previous week. First time that had ever happened.  Maybe I should call 911, I asked?  ...No, she said, it'll pass. And that time, it did pass, as did the second.  Damn, I gotta get Mom to quit smoking, I told myself. 

Mom's last day on this earth was an unseasonably warm one and I finally got her to her doctor.  For ONCE in her life, she was actually ON TIME. I mention this because chronic tardiness was Mom's hallmark and guess who she handed THAT baton to??  (hanging head in shame....)

Her doc was equally concerned about the breathing attacks and set up a series of heart tests for the following week.  Who knew she'd be gone by then? But here's the part I like to remember... 

Usually, Mom, who by then rarely left the house and needed a wheelchair, never wanted to drive around and enjoy the sunny weather after an appointment. Let's take a drive, Mom, I told her, expecting her to say no, she was tired, not up to it, yadda yadda.  Then came the unexpected "Ya know what, yes, let's take the long way home today..." 

Pleasantly surprised, I asked where to and the first place she wanted to go was the "old neighborhood." She wanted to drive by her childhood home.  Gramps & Gramm were gone by then and Mom was feeling nostalgic.  As we drove the old route through southwest Detroit, years melted away as I got that excited feeling you get when you drive to Gramma & Grampa's place.  We stopped.  We stared. We reminisced, even though the little house on Sarena Street was, by now, quite run down. We were saddened by the state of Mom's old neighborhood as we pulled away.

From there, Mom said she wanted to visit her parents' graves.  So off we went to St. Hedwig's. It was there Mom said some prophetic things. 

"It's so peaceful here, isn't it," she asked?  I said it was kinda creepy.  "But really, look how pretty it looks in the spring, that's why they call it a resting place."  She wished she could get out and read those headstones.  So...dutiful daughter that I was, I got out & began walking among the graves, reading them one by one to Mom as she pointed out ones that interested her. I kept checking my cell phone.  The man I was dating was supposed to call.  I became irritated and Mom, in her usual manner, began to shell out her unsolicited wisdom. The "mom" speak that irritates the hell out of everyone.  "A watched pot never boils."  "Just ignore the phone, then he'll call," or her best line... "He's not good enough for you anyway."  

Still situated among the dead, we pondered on the sad short lives and marveled at the huge family plots.  We even ran into an old family friend visiting her parents' grave...talk about a small (creepy) world.   After a short visit with the friend, I told mom we should go.  That family friend would be at mom's viewing just a few days later.  But for some reason, Mom was hesitant...in hindsight, she seemed to be surveying the area. "I'd like to be buried near my parents. That is, if you can't afford a mausoleum." Laughing, I told her not to worry, I would be able to afford that by then, since she had years to think about that... and after all, I reasoned, she would die late, since she was late for everything else.

"I hope it rains when I die," she said out of the blue.  When asked why, Mom said "the thought of everyone out there having fun in the sun while I'm dead bothers me."  In true form, Mom was honest to a fault. But guess what?  It rained the next few days as we planned her funeral.  Mom died during Holy Week, so good luck trying to plan a Catholic burial at Eastertime, the holiest time of the Liturgical year. We had to wait till after Easter for her funeral and lived in Limbo for four more days. AND IT RAINED....for all those days, it seemed.

But I digress: back to that last day...Despite my usual multi-tasking nature, it was as if some calming influence urged me to enjoy this ride.  Inside my ever-racing mind, I had calls to return, work I brought home from the office that still wasn't finished and a visit with an old friend planned for later, so many things to DO!  Still, despite my enormous "to-do" list, I felt strangely unhurried that day.  On the way home from the cemetery, we stopped for, what else, a carton of cigarettes for Mom, and I picked up a bottle of her favorite wine.  Then I picked up dinner from Mom's favorite restaurant, Angelo's.

During the drive home, I even remember making Mom gasp as I abruptly crossed three lanes without using my turn signal to get to a gas station I noticed up ahead, selling gasoline for .99 cents per gallon. that's right, I repeat: .99 CENTS!!! (This was, after all, 11 years ago.)  I got quite the lecture from Mom about my risky driving.  "This isn't a racetrack, you know!"  Rolling my eyes, I did not realize this would be mom's last lecture to me. 

Oh, but she gave me some wonderful things to remember that afternoon, as well.  Once home, she lit up a cigarette and we sat at the kitchen table, poured a glass of wine and chatted, but not before I once again checked my phone and was increasingly angered by the nerve of some men! Turns out he had good reason but at the time, I was beyond angry at his seemingly thoughtless manners.

"He's not the one for you, anyway, so why do you even care?" she asked.  (He wasn't). "I'll know the right  man when I meet him." (Turns out she didn't have time to meet him.)  Then, almost chillingly, she turned her dark eyes to me, took a long puff off her cigarette and suddenly became serious.

 "Look, I know your brother marrying before you has you upset (I was already 36)  but I'm not worried about you. You will meet and marry the right man, and you'll do it very quickly." Before I could interject, she added,  "I never believed those long relationships of yours were THE ones, even though you did..."  (Once again, Mom was right.  I did meet my husband a year later and we were engaged within three months, so yes, while my "long romances" were lovely, they simply were NOT "the ones" for me). 

When I showed her a few wedding pictures I'd picked up from the local Photomat, (remember those?) Mom said she was glad I hadn't brought only the bright red lipstick for her to wear to Mark's wedding because she preferred nude lipsticks, even as I argued she should wear a more festive red for special occasions.  SIDEBAR: my dark-haired mom never liked bold colored lipstick and even after I'd given the undertaker that bright red lipstick as her final makeup, I peered into the coffin and gasped in horror during family hour to see that she was right...that bright red lipstick WAS too bright! I had to scramble to ask the undertaker to change her lipstick to a nude shade before open visitation, so typically, Mom won that battle, too. 


And finally, as we sat and pondered about how soon before my brother gave her a grandchild, Mom said 
"I don't care what it costs, promise me you'll put my granddaughter in dance someday. I was always sorry I didn't get you into dance earlier."  (Yep...you guessed it, my daughter started ballet at age 3 1/2...)

But wait.  What??  On that day, how could Mom even assume I'd even HAVE a daughter when I wasn't even sure I'd ever settle down and marry? 

That night, after visiting my friend, I checked back in on Mom and became annoyed because she hadn't touched an ounce of the dinner we'd picked up earlier.  I was angry and said she was wasting away to nothing.  She weighed less than 90 lbs at the time of her death. She chuckled.  "You will be a good mom, you're already acting like MY mother right now," she said as I carried away her plate in anger. 

Those were my mom's last "normal" words to me .... but today, mom's "prophesies" comfort me beyond all comfort.  I don't have the luxury of picking up the phone to ask my mom about anything. I can't ask her if I'm doing the right things or what she might do in certain situations.  But that's OK.  Mom said all she had to say that last day, whether we knew it or not, back then. 

She knew deep down that I'd get married, assuaging my fear of dying alone. Deep inside myself, I thought I was so pickky I'd wind up a bag lady with 6 cats.  Mom believed I'd someday be a good mom...I seriously thought I'd HATE being a mother to anyone but 4-legged creatures who don't talk back.

And her final gift to me was in that last day: learning to enjoy the little things.  I learned that the moments you don't think are so profound become PROFOUND, like taking the long way home and not worrying about rushing back to work on your "to-do" lists.  Like how being spontaneous and stopping here or there, just for the heck of it can be FUN.  I discovered more times than I care to mention that, in talking about everyday things with the people in our lives, we don't think those will be our last conversations with them, but sadly, sometimes, they are. If I've learned anything from an unexpected death, it is this:  as cliche as it sounds, tomorrow is NEVER promised...

My last day with my mother was a warm, sunny and yes, carefree day in April, and aside from the birth of my daughter and notwithstanding the pain of losing Mom in such an untimely manner, it turns out it was the  happiest, easiest day of my life.  For one last day, I was still her little girl. Thanks for the memories,my beloved best friend.  Rest in peace dear mom, till we meet again. 
 


Mommy & me, my first birthday party



April Fools are running the homeowner's aslylum!

My daughter, then age 3, and nephew, age 2 1/2, sure look annoying, don't they??

   A former news reporter and colleague, Mike Holfeld, with whom I worked in Detroit, first reported this story last week from Orlando, where he nows works. I know I'm not alone in my outrage over this story. The first part you read is copied directly to this blog from one of the numerous websites reporting this...the second part will be MY response. Thanks for informing me of this Mike!  To read Mike's blog, please click here: http://www.clickorlando.com/mikeholfeld/index.html

Homeowners Association Wants To Ban Kids From Playing Outside

VOLUSIA COUNTY, Fla. -- A neighborhood homeowners association (HOA) in Volusia County is causing some controversy after it proposed banning kids from playing outside in their own yards. Officials at the Persimmon Place subdivision in Edgewater are pushing a measure to ban kids from outdoor playing in the community, unless they have an adult with them at all times. The proposal would also ban children from skateboarding, playing games like tag, or using loud toys. Parents in the community say they plan to fight against the plan.

 Rule number four of this proposal states that children will be under the direct control of adults at all times. "Children will not be allowed to run, play tag, or act boisterously on the association property." It also states there is no playing in "common areas" which includes parking lots, driveways and in front of the rear of units.

If the proposal passes, homeowners caught breaking the rules will have to pay a $100 fine.

"I think it's absurd, I mean how can you tell kids you can't play?", said resident Magee Pareja.

When I read this story it made me sad for the children living there but also so very happy I am a baby-boomer.  OK, so technically I am barely in that group, having literally been the last wave of babies born under President Kennedy, during the boom years between 1945 and 1964, but still...we had it made as kids, didn't we? 

We played outside.  We ran, we shrieked, we rode our scooters and jumped ropes, we rode bikes and bigwheels, we threw sticks & stones, we fell down and scraped our knees, we cried, we laughed, we blew off bottle rockets (OK that was my little brother, not me....) and yes....we were NOISY!!    

So...here's my own, not so nice response to those board members who believe kids should be kept indoors without adults, or at least to be QUIET while playing outdoors, namely, an uptight HOA that needs to remove the stick from within its own arse!

Dear members of the Volusia County Homeowners' Association:

So....suddenly you, within your tiny little sphere of power, have decided that kids who play outdoors and go a little crazy must be supervised and/or silenced. So it is voted upon, so it shall be.  Really? From which planet did you just fall?  Or better yet, who among you are able to say you had the pleasure of growing up in a world where KIDS could be ....just KIDS?? 

I'm guessing, without all the facts, which goes against all the journalistic ethics I learned in college, that at least a few of the myopic decision-makers behind this new proposed rule are either too old to remember the joy of kicking the can down the street as you walked to the corner store for penny candies. Or perhaps some of you younger members of this association were raised as a product of the "me" generation, meaning you can't be more than 27....so your mommy and daddy both worked like crazy to give you everything, which included anything to keep you busy AND silent.  (Think: Simon, Rubik's Cubes, NINTENDO...) and so... unless your nannies or other such caregivers played with you, your childhood memories probably include long and leisurely playdates with Mr. or Mrs. Pacman, Pong, Supermario Brothers or Frogger.  Am I right?

Even if I'm wrong, this is MY blog, and I can write whatever I wish...so you'll just have to let me rant...LOUDLY. (See Article I of the Bill of Rights...)  

And just to show I'm no "Old Fogey..."  I have a 6-year-old so no, just because I'm a late baby boomer does not mean I have forgotten what it's like to have loud kids running around me.  I am LIVING this right now. 

So let me give you a little picture (these days called a thumbnail) of what life as a kid was like for those in my age group...perhaps if more kids were encouraged to BE kids while they still ARE kids, many of our social issues regarding delinquent teens might well be lessened, although sadly, probably never completely eradicated. After all, if we can't play while we're kids, ya think we just "grow out" of such urges?  They become repressed until we are in grown-up bodies, yet we are still wanting our inner children to come out & play, only now, big kids play harder, and often, they play more dangerously.

We played, and boy, did we!  Before the breakfast dishes were cleared, we all heard the following phrases:

"What do you mean you're bored?  It's summertime! Go find something to do or I'll find something for you to do. Or, the infamous: "Get out there and play...and other than dinner, (when you hear the ice cream bells) you can stay out with your friends till the street lights come on."

So play, we did!  We actually used chalk and drew on sidewalks to play hopscotch. Bet that would make your HOA angry these days!  I'm sure concrete companies would picket your subdivision due to the cruelty kids inflict onto the sidewalks.

We "skipped rope," and sang little ditties matching the beats of our feet as they hit the ground. How annoying to our parents and their neighbors THAT must have been! We chased each other through the yards -- ours and other people's yards, as we shrieked  "Tag! You're IT!"  (I'm sure this is now somehow politically incorrect to someone....)

And here's something you might not know....boys stood in the middle of the street...(I'm waiting for you to catch your breaths)  and actually tossed balls called baseballs right at each other's gloves!  It was called playing "catch."  Sometimes they missed the ball and it went overhead, directly into Mrs. Cook's kitchen window. There were many a shattered window in my old neighborhood. And here's something you might not realize, but these boys were sooooo smart!  They actually knew they must step aside for oncoming cars....kids back then had a healthy respect for safety...I guess they now are missing this in their DNA, according to every newscast you see today.

Apparently, kids today, according to the current wave of helicopter parents and yes, experts, the media, et al., are too ignorant to know they can actually be hit by a car if they don't step out of the way!  Yes, unfortunate accidents happen every day and I'm not deliberately undermining those tragedies.  I'm simply stating the obvious: You hear any evidence of an oncoming car, you move or risk being mowed over. End of story. 

Worse than this...we WALKED down the street, to friends' houses, sometimes (gasp) more than six houses down.  We walked without  parents walking us to our destinations. As we did this, we kicked gross, used, open cans down the street . The best cans were metal and LOUD.  Sometimes we found more than one!  AND boy, that sound must've been ANNOYING to hear. The NERVE of kids making noises OUTSIDE, in the bright sunshine they're being asked to deprive themselves  of, now. 

Let me stop here to make a point. Sadly, I know we do not live in that world anymore, and it seriously is NOT safe to let kids walk even short distances because of the sickos who lurk around nearly every street corner.  But here's where OTHER people, parents and non-parents, alike, helped make it a safer world for our kids.  They would actually see and hear the kids and look out for those scary bogeymen we were warned against...and they stepped up and came to our aid if the need be...without a lawyer on hand or a camcorder to record it all and put it up on UTube. 

We kids were raised to respect other grown-ups, as well....if Mrs. O'Dell didn't like my tone of voice, she had MY mother's permission to call me out on it, lecture me and tell my folks what transpired, thank you very much!  So it was kinda like one big family in my neighborhood because everyone watched everyone elses' kids.

And here's something that might astonish some today: we rode bikes.... without helmets!  And we lived to tell you we did!  Now I am not going to discount the importance of bike safety and helmets because A) I have taken more than my share of tumbles and I'm happy to be able to write about them at all...) and B) I've seen a few nasty accidents and know of even a few adults with closed head injuries due to dangerous falls to the cement... I've even grimaced through a few falls of my own daughter, who hasn't yet mastered how to stop while gliding downhill. 

But to be given a ticket for taking a little slow ride around the block at 3 MPH?  AND for parents to be forced to wear them to be good examples??  SERIOUSLY????  WE PARENTS need to do as the children do?  Back in my day there were double standards...kids were kids, grown-ups were grown ups!  WHY?  Because I'm the mommy, that's why...and that would suffice. 

Oh, and one REALLY gross thing you need to know about your predecessors:  we ate dirt.  No seriously.  We made mud pies and sometimes we "sampled" them...and some REALLY brave kids ate ....bugs!   (not that I'm advocating that...)  but the point is, we all lived!

What I fear we cannot live with, however, is the threat to our children today, who are being told that simply playing outside is a no-no!  What about fresh air?  What about obesity?  Aren't kids already bombarded with wireless technology to the point they no longer even walk down streets?  Don't they already exceed our paid mobile phone minutes by texting each other so much they need not even get together at all?  And if they do decide to actually meet up face-to-face, someone's mom or dad now drives them three homes away to what we now call "play dates." 

These days, if  we parents are in a meeting and the kids have to be with us, when they become antsy, God forbid we should give them an actual bound, hard copy BOOK to read!  Instead, why not give them your iPad so they can play with all the pretty colorful apps! That's progress!

If homeowners associations continue to think the way the YOU think, it isn't the whales, the baby seals or even the rain forests we need to protect.... it's our childrens' rights to be children!  Shame on you for taking the joy out of childhood!  Meanwhile, I'll be outdoors listening to my daughter sing as she spins around in the backyard. And just to drive home my point even further, I'll encourage her to sing even louder!