My mom is a source of amusement to me.
There. I’ve said it.
I don’t know why. I do hope lightning doesn’t strike me for saying it – because I’ve already recently written about how her mother is steering my new career from some strata way above where I’m sitting.
And if you don’t believe that, who do you think just dumped the word “strata” into my brain?
So in honor of my mom on this most holy of holidays, I’m using this little space to talk about her. Let’s face it, any son can get his mom a jewelry link. Thanks to www.chuckblogerstrom.com, I can give mine a story link. It’s the gift that keeps on giving.
And I find my mom humorous.
If I was hired to write the Marlene Wasserstrom story, it would start out like this:
"A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away … my mother was born.”
She’ll roll her eyes at me, but she’s heard me say it.
I like to remind my kids that when Grandma Marlene was their age, she lived on the prairie and traveled by stagecoach.
That’s not exactly true. When she was their age, she was shuttled around in a Model T.
What can I say? My mom is easy prey.
My mom is the one who shows up at the kids’ sporting events with a book and a Diet Coke and a 74-pound purse full of Werther’s.
What’s not funny about that?
I know she finds it amusing when she talks about what I’ll do when it’s time to put her in a home – and I straight-face tell her that I’m putting her on a one-way bus to my brother’s house in St. Louis.
Look, you might think that’s mean, but she knows I say it with love. And my mom and I both know my sister-in-law takes in borders all the time. What’s one more house guest?
My mom is the one who went to school with a grandparent of someone on every travel team my girls have played on. Guaranteed.
She’s the one who you don’t want to go shopping with because you know she’ll bump into someone she knows in every aisle.
By the way, that gene skips a generation. My two little ones now have a hard time going into a restaurant without seeing someone they know.
And I find all of that humorous.
It got to the point that we used to play a game called “Six Degrees of Marlene.” It was based on “Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon.” Then we did the Mom-to-Bacon math …
(1) Mom has a first cousin named Michael.
(2) Michael was the executive producer of the TV show Quincy, which starred Jack Klugman.
(3) Mr. Klugman was in the movie Days of Wine and Roses with Jack Lemmon.
(4) Mr. Lemmon was in JFK with – you guessed it – Kevin Bacon.
We couldn’t even get to six degrees. Too easy.
Over this last little stretch, I’ve done a lot of housekeeping looking for scrapbook items. My mom has been a math teacher longer than I’ve been on this earth, so I even found an old Haiku I wrote about my mom:
My mom teaches math.
She adds, subtracts, multiplies.
I hate calculus.
See, I give my mom credit for my sense of humor. I wrote that one in college, by the way.
In honor of Mother’s Day, I’m trying my hand at a new math Haiku.
Is that length times width times height?
Doesn’t that put a smile on your face?
It’s easy to find humor in someone who is always there for you … and is always part of your life … and is always concerned about your own kids … and is always worried about you in good times and bad.
My mom might not find me funny all the time, but if I gave her a sappy Mother’s Day card today, I’m sure there would be a point in the day where she’d say to herself out loud, “Henry, that card was nice. What’s wrong with Chuck?”
I just thought of something … if it wasn’t for my mother, I wouldn’t be here right now. Think about that.
So mom, thank you for my wit. And if you only think some of it is funny, thanks for making me a half-wit.
Happy Mother’s Day!