Category Archives: Make Me Happy, Make Me Sad

What She Said (My Best Weekend Ever)

Feb 2, 1945 to Jan 4, 2013

I’ve been blessed with a strange memory.

If I’m paying attention, I can remember almost exactly what someone tells me. That being said, there are a lot of fuckers out there that I ignore so my talents aren’t always recognized.

I spent the weekend looking after my mother who is dying of cancer.

It sounds so stupid now but I was afraid to go up there and look after her. What if something happened and I couldn’t help?

So just for grins, of all the things my mother told me over those 3 days, these are my favorites.

“I knew when you really loved a girl because you would become quiet and reserved around her. You’d stop trying to entertain.”

This is true. I just have this need to completely soak up everything they are saying, doing, wearing etc. So I get quiet. I observe. This tends to, well, annoy the fuck out of the person I’m totally digging. But if they understood this, then, well, maybe it wouldn’t be quite as annoying? I don’t know… modern love is confusing.

There is a huge collection of stuffed animals piling up in the living room. I think she gets roughly two a week sent to her from all kinds of people. Seriously, kids that sat in her kindergarten class 25 years ago are writing her get well notes. Not emails. Not Facebook shit. Actual hand written notes with gifts.

“I had no idea that people would send stuffed animals to a geriatric woman.”

For the record, she’s only 66-years-old. That’s hardly geriatric.

We spent a lot of time watching the birds at her feeder. My mother’s favorite bird is the Cardinal. My favorite bird is the beautiful, loud and crazy as hell Blue Jay.

“They are bossy things but you go ahead and like your Blue Jays.”

We both agreed the Mocking Bird is probably the most annoying bird of all and we lamented that it is the state bird of Texas.

My soft spoken, always thoughtful and sociology trained and eventual “kindergarten teacher to the gifted” mother is, surprisingly, a master at the art of firearms. In fact, as a teen she acheieved the rank of “Distinguished Expert” by the National Rifle Association. It is their highest possible ranking.

“I was quite the star”

She confessed that the rifle instructor at camp was a bit “nerdy” and that she was drawn to the sailing instructor.

“So unlike me. He had uncombed, sandy hair and a wild look in his eye.”

She’s having a hard time with her balance and asked me to change her bed sheets for her.

“Leave a lot more bed sheet on your father’s side so it will cover his stomach.”

Speaking of my father…

We talked about how despite being a chemical engineer, a passionate amateur astronomer, an expert on European and American history… he knows very little about some surprising subjects.

“Your father thinks that if he sweats just enough that it actually removes any dirt or bacteria from his body but I tell him that he is wrong.”

And then things started to get weepy…

There were a lot of sad discussions that centered around her impending death and what it was like when her own mother and father died.

I told her that I have a hard time talking to people about things that are important to me. Anything serious or anything I am worried about, I try to keep to myself. I told her that when she goes, I’ll feel all alone because she’s the only one that really knows and understands who I am.

“Well, I’ve known you longer than anyone else. I knew you before you were even born.”

Then I broke down, after thinking about it all day, and finally told her.

“I know this chemotherapy is hard for you, but I’m glad you are trying. If it gets to be too much you can stop at any time. I’ll understand.”

“Thank you.”

“No, I want to thank you. This might sound selfish but I’m so glad to just have you all to myself this weekend.”

“I love you and I’m sorry that I wasn’t always a perfect mother but I tried to be.”

“No, mom. You were the best mother a boy could ever had. You were perfect. Don’t ever think differently.”

And that was about it. My best weekend ever.

She died seven months after being diagnosed.

My last real exchange with her was on December 10, 2012. She looked so small in her hospital bed. My eyes were filled with tears and I said:


“I love you so much. More than anything.”

She rolled her big brown eyes, fluttered her eye lashes and said, “What’s not to love?”

I love her and will miss her forever.

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Dead Chickens, Blind Boys and a Light in the Darkness

I think it was 1995, I can’t really remember.

I was in college and traveling from Waco to Chicago to see my parents for Christmas.

Along the way I had to stop and pick up a kid in Denton, Texas. He was a the son of my parents’ friends, going to North Texas, studying music and totally blind.

Things got strange before I even left.

While I loaded up my truck my dog suddenly bolted across the street after a chicken. Yeah, this is Waco. The hippy across the street from me had pet chickens roaming around his yard. He loved those birds. My dog had been eying them for 6 months and, well, she finally snapped.

The flock scattered. She zeroed in on a plump leghorn and chased it under the hippy’s porch. I yelled at her to come back. I heard a loud squawk and then nothing but silence for the next 5 minutes. She finally emerged with her face plastered with white feathers and stomach extremely extended.

I quickly threw her in the cab of the truck and got the fuck out of there before the hippy awoke and engage me in some peace, love, harmony and passive aggressive anger.

When I picked up Blind Boy he was sitting in his dorm room with his guitar and an over stuffed duffel bag. He dressed like, well, he was blind so shit didn’t look right at all. He had a long greasy pony tail hanging down his back and pasty skin. I knew my dog wouldn’t like him.

The three of us were chugging along in the single cab of my truck. The dog rode between me and Blind Boy. She was pissed she didn’t get to sit by the window and every once in awhile she would look at him and growl. I’m sure it scared the shit out of him.

We were almost out of Oklahoma when I stopped for gasoline. The air, while chilly in Waco when I started, had turned icy and windy. The cold sliced right through me while I refueled.

I walked the dog around while Blind Boy stayed in the truck.

“You need anything to drink or want to take a leak?”

“I’m fine,” Blind Boy said.

“Are you sure? After this there’s nothing until Missouri.”

“I’m good.”

Yeah, sure enough he had to pee 15 minutes later. I pulled over at a historical marker and had to guide him over to a bush and guide him back. As he got in the truck I could hear the passenger side rear tire hissing.

Fuck me. Changing a flat as the sun started to set was not part of my plan.

I told Blind Boy to get out of the truck and sit on the picnic table while I changed the tire.

I crawled under to unlock the padlock on the spare tire. The lock was frozen shut.

I struggled to get the key to turn but it wouldn’t budge. I rummaged through my tool box looking for a solution. The only thing I could find was 5 inches of a broken hacksaw blade.

I was back on my back in the cold under the truck. Night was starting to settle in. I had to hold the blade in my hand with out a handle. My hands were bleeding as I slowly cut through the lock with short 1 inch strokes.

It’s dark. I’m stranded with a murderous dog and person that, while nice, is no help at all. I’m bleeding. I’m tired. I’m freezing and cutting through this lock is an exercise in futility that seemed like it would never end.

I felt so alone and frustrated, but I had to keep pushing through. People were counting on me.

And there are times that I feel the same way. And there is this part of me that gnaws away from the inside that tells to just give up.

I have this impossible set of problems and they are something that I will slowly work through alone, as I always have.

But then I tried the lock again. The key turned and the spare came off and everything was fixed and better.

That’s how life goes.

Be patient.

Do not give up.

Work at it.

And everything will be fine.

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