Rota, Spain, circa 1985
I remember drawing fruit pictures as “presents” for Mom when she was in the military. (Watermelon wedges were my favorite.)
I remember making Mom ashtrays out of the black bases of 2-liter Coke bottles.
I remember Mom & me walking across the street to the Majik Market when we lived on Malibu to get a Nestle Alpine White candy bar.
I remember reading Encyclopedia Brown with Mom at the Summerdale outdoor flea market, where she & Dad sold lamps & lampshades for Grandma & Grandpa York. We would stay in the LaQuinta Inn on Saturday nights, so we wouldn’t have to drive all the way back to Pensacola & all the way back to Summerdale the next day.
I remember getting bubble gum in my hair & Mom using peanut butter to comb it out.
I also remember the smell of “No More Tangles” that Mom would use to comb through my stringy hair which she always insisted be curled for school pictures.
I remember when there was a dust-up at my high school because of an issue I had with one of my teachers. When my principal, Mr. Bill Slayton, wouldn’t listen, that’s when Mom banged her hand on the desk (I heard this secondhand) & said, “My taxes pay your damn salary!”
I remember being so annoyed when Mom & Dad would be watching a football game & suddenly scream, “Get him! Get him!” at the TV.
I remember when the outlet went out in Mom & Dad’s room, & Mom watched TV “long-distance” (as the power in the other bedroom across the hall worked).
I remember the time we were on a mini-vacation when Mom & I were in cahoots to get Dad to wake up at a reasonable time (like before afternoon), & I set all the clocks forward three hours. It wasn’t until we were at Publix later in the day that Dad happened to see the clock & made a face, saying, “Hey, that isn’t right.” I couldn’t help myself & burst out giggling, confessing my deception.
I remember Mom always complaining that Dad & I were on the same wavelength. (Especially when it came to food, & we wanted to go out for Mexican.)
I remember Mom telling me that you never stop worrying about your kids, no matter how old they get.
I remember Mom wishing she’d gotten a picture of Sharon before she was buried.
I remember Mom telling me that Grandma & Grandpa Booker had always treated her just like a daughter.
I remember Mom saying how embarrassing it was when Grandpa Booker hung her underwear on the line.
I remember when Mom & I went to a Mitt Romney rally & Jon Voight approached us from behind. (He actually touched her shoulder!) Mom & I were stunned speechless (it seemed our brains had temporarily shut down). And we’d made fun of Lucy for years for being starstruck!
I remember how Mom would send Dad out for Cokes, cigarettes, or thin crust Pizza Hut pizza with beef & onion right after he got home from work.
I remember Mom getting really pissed whenever Dad would take the entire bag of chips to work instead of putting what he would consume into a separate container.
I remember one of the few times Mom cooked, & she put sweetened condensed milk in the mashed potatoes.
I remember Mom telling me that she told Dad before she married him that she didn’t cook or clean, so he couldn’t complain.
I don’t remember Mom ever getting her own cup of ice.
I remember I always had to have a Coke for Mom whenever she came over.
I remember Mom & I always trying to get Bernadean to make her chocolate rolls.
I remember Mom saying she didn’t believe in whipping because that had been her parents’ answer to everything.
I remember Mom wearing her zebra-pattered bathrobe & house shoes that she stepped on the backs of in the car with me praying we wouldn’t get stopped.
I remember Mom & me sharing Tami Hoag, Sandra Brown, & Lisa Jackson books.
I remember how much Mom hated “The Twelve Days of Christmas” song.
I remember how much Mom loved Hank Williams, Elvis, & The Beatles.
I remember all of Mom’s unfinished projects (like the sewing machine she never used), as well as her endurance for all of Dad’s random research projects.
I remember when Mom & I went to a Daughters of the American Revolution meeting, & I was about to doze off from boredom.
I remember Mom’s patriotism.
I remember Mom always getting on to me for not driving with both hands on the wheel.
I remember when we went to Jerry’s Cajun Café, & Mom made such a big deal out of my softshell crabs looking like a tick, I couldn’t eat them anymore.
I remember Mom flipping out whenever cheese was on her sandwich or yelling from the passenger seat, “Tell them hot fries!” (or “thick shake” for thick milkshake), whenever Dad was in the drive-through (which would get him all flustered).
I remember when Mom & I joined the Mormon Church, & we would have the missionaries over for dinner appointments.
I remember Mom & me driving around Cantonment to spy on Sister Wade (who monopolized the missionaries).
I remember how much Mom didn’t like Relief Society because it was so domestic. (How to fold fitted sheets really took the wedding cake.)
I remember giving Mom my novel, “Because of Mindy Wiley,” to read on the Greyhound bus on the way back from Sidney, Montana, where I nannied for 3 girls.
I remember Mom & I were always declaring that Jeffrey Hunter was the best-looking man ever—with Dad arguing that it was Tyrone Power.
I remember when our cat, Brie, had kittens on Mom’s stomach.
I remember Mom keeping vigil over Brie (who suffered peritonitis), comforting her till she died.
I remember when Punky, our dog, was dying; Punky wouldn’t come in out of the cold, so Mom put a blanket on her & sat with her for a while.
I remember Mom always dreamed of moving to Wyoming.
I remember Mom & I were always quick to let Dad know when he was wrong about something; I’d immediately ask Google to prove our case—if nothing more than to remove that smug look off his face.
I remember Mom sending Dad & me to Albertson’s to buy Bit-o-Honey because she had an addictive personality & would get on “kicks.” She also really got into watermelon & popcorn.
I remember how thrilled Mom was when she knew I was going to have a girl & name her Hannah.
I remember Mom was always so excited to see Hannah, calling her “Hannah B!”
I remember Mom coming to my house on Heirloom Drive immediately when I was freaking out because Hannah would not stop crying.
I remember all the times Mom would come by my house on Heirloom & hang out before picking up Dad; we’d talk & enjoy Hannah, maybe even watch a couple of episodes of “Wings.”
I remember Mom getting Hannah started on the “Smack Quackers” routine.
I remember Mom sitting with me in the hospital when I was so ill & couldn’t stop throwing up.
I remember all the times Mom took me to school & work when she was tired & didn’t feel like it.
I remember Mom weaseling her way out of most of the driving when we went up to Uncle Bill’s funeral.
I remember Mom often joked that her funeral better be held in the afternoon, so Dad would come; I know she knows better now.
I remember Mom.
I remember . . .