A true story about being a son in the best and worst of times.
| Mom was a preacher's granddaughter, which I think was not a whole lot different than being a PK. She shares riotous stories from childhood, school days and one poem that she shares to all children of ages whether they want to listen or not "Birdie, birdie in the sky did a tirdie in my eye, birdie, birdie in the sky, boy I am glad that cows don't fly". I will save some my mother's humorous capers for another writing. Mom knew how to make things exciting. Her childhood name was Blanche. Everyone called her Bee.
My mother knew how to cook!! The thing I liked best was her lasagna. I would do backflips for that lasagna. During my Freshman year in high school, I had opportunity to experience what college was about. The name of the program Project Contermporary Competitiveness. Only a select few high school students qualified. I missed the first cut and felt like my life had come to an end. Then miracle of miracles one of the students got a broken leg and I got to take his place. I was in the car with my mother and I was anxious to let her know. At first I had this lump in my throat-I was so happy how would I tell her. Just as we pulled into the driveway I let loose with the news. "MOM I get to go to the special college program!! There were tears of joy in my mother's eyes; "I'm proud of you son-good for you, as we exitted the car to go into the house I got a big hug and kiss. Sweeter than honey that moment was-as good as her lasagna.
In later years I was dealing with emotional illness issues. It was the fall of 1976, I was a student at Eastern Nazarene College. I had a manic episode at the college campus. I was making progress in managing the illness. Dr. Fleming said in so many words: I'll tell you what if you get a job in the summer, I will write a note to the college letting them know you are ready to go back. All went according to plan. I did all manner of maintenance work and was not more than a few weeks from getting the nod to go back to college. While all this was happening my Mom was having a difficult pregnancy with my youngest sister Melisa. As school got closer I got anxious and started pacing and wandering away from home. She talked to my dad and told him that I needed to go to the mental health center. She could not take any more. Dad did as he was told. He sat with me in the room of one of the counselors. The couselor said: "The only thing I can say for sure is that he is mildly depressed. The best thing to do is get him some respite care". He called around. "I am sorry there is nothing available. Any family that could help?" My Dad shook his head; "no". The words were like a seed that stings to this day. I was comitted to a state hospital for about eight months.
All this being said, I love my mom. I even get to see her in a few short weeks. She is about seventy-five years old.
Her nickname fits her. There is no one sweeter than my Mom in the whole universe. Just don't get her mad or upset. You might get stung.