My Mother is 89 years-old and will be entering a hospice program later this week. She’s in the final stage of Alzheimer’s Disease and is suffering from several physical impairments. She broke her hip three months ago, got that pinned, and we just found out that she broke the other one a few nights ago in the Board and Care facility where she is staying. When it rains, it pours, doesn’t it?
I don’t know if I will ever see my Mom again. Charlie and I are on a lengthy RV trip, out of state, and she could pass tonight or three months from now. I do know that, once a patient is recommended to hospice, the end is relatively near. Hospice will try to make her as comfortable as possible and give her all the loving care she deserves at this time. Hopefully, Mom will still be alive and lucid when we return in late August.
One of my last memories with my Mom was just before we left on our RV trip. I picked her up at the Board and Care, intending to take her out to lunch. She could shuffle along on her walker (after the hip surgery) good enough that I could get her into my old Hyundai Veloster. I was going to take her to a nice sit-down restaurant in Temecula, but the skies opened up, and it rained cats and dogs. We had a nice drive in the rain, and we talked, and she appreciated getting out of the house, most of all. In the end, we opted to get drive-up service at The Hat, and each ordered one of their World Famous Pastrami sandwiches. The food was great, and the sandwich was huge. I ate all of mine, Mom ate half of hers, and then said, “Take this other half to Charlie, OK?”. It was a nice outing with Mom, and, really, could have been my last. I hope not.
Now that I know that she’s moving to hospice, I am getting melancholy about the “good old days”. Of course, they were almost all good, relatively speaking. My Mom and I (and the whole family) had a great life together. So, there are lots of memories that come to mind:
(1) My earliest memory of my Mom was when she used to sew clothes for my brother Terry and I, and she did a pretty good job;
(2) I recall getting in big trouble when I was coming home from elementary school (first grade?) one day and decided to “borrow” a bike that I found laying about; my Mom found out and, very gently, gave me a lesson about right and wrong;
(3) My brother Terry and I wandered up into the hills behind the school and watched some older guys pummeling a poor skunk with their BB guns; when they were done, we picked up the dead animal, played around with it, and then returned home; my Mom met us down the street (she could smell us coming), made us take our clothes off, and she burned them in the incinerator, as I recall;
(4) My Mom was a stay-at-home mother when I was young. She kept a very neat and stylish house, while raising four young kids. I can remember the various salesmen coming to the home to hawk their wares (Fuller Brush, Tupperware, vacuum cleaners, sewing machines, encyclopedias, etc.). And, of course, she would buy bakery items from the Helm’s delivery truck that came by the neighborhood every day, just like the milk man and the Good Humor ice cream truck.
(5) My Mom sold Avon cosmetics for awhile in the ’60’s; I think she liked it and was pretty good at it.
(6) She cut hair, too. There was money to be saved, and “Butch” haircuts were easy to do, so she buzzed off our bright red hair once a month or so. In later years (the 60’s), she’d even cut our neighbor friend’s hair for free.
(7) We were an active family; always had a speedboat. My parents were good water skiers, and my Mom looked great behind the boat. She and my Dad were scuba divers, too. She loved the little house that we had in Ensenada, Mexico where we’d go to ski, fish, and kick back.
(8) My parents would very occasionally take some time to themselves, like going up to Las Vegas for a couple of days. This was back when Vegas was classy, in the 50’s. When they’d go to Vegas, Terry and I would stay at my Mom’s (now “Nana’s”) childhood home on Rodeo Road near the L.A. Colosseum. It was a fun time for us, but my Mom only had bad memories about that place, when her parents were alcoholics and fought all the time. (And, those were the good memories!)
(9) I cannot remember ever hearing my Mom say a four-letter word. The same for my Dad, with the exception of the time he was in the garage and hit his thumb (instead of a nail) with a hammer.
(10) My Mom loved the opera pop star Mario Lanza, and she would play his albums on our home stereo player in the afternoon when she was doing housewife things, like in between hanging the wash on the clothesline in the back yard, changing diapers, or cleaning up some mess that we’d made.
(11) She made great sack lunches when we were in elementary school, always including a “surprise” item like a candy or a homemade eclair. Sometimes the sandwich wasn’t all that great, like soggy tunafish, but the surprise goodie would make up for it, and my friends would look on with envy out at the food court, when I made a big production out of eating my eclair, macaroon, or brownie. Yummy!
(12) My brother and I went through shoes so fast that my Mom took us to Sears and bought us some leather combat boots; something that we couldn’t ruin so quickly. We weren’t so happy about that, but she was a wise Mom.
(13) I developed a behavior problem at school when I was in third grade. My parents were baffled; my Mom said that “he never acts like that at home!” Anyway, they determined that I was bored. My Mom agreed to them moving me to an advanced class, and the behavior issues went away. Mother always knows best.
(14) We lived for a time up in the Santa Cruz area, when my Dad had a brief fling operating a gas filling station/garage. We kids loved it up there, but my Mom hated it. That was because the six of us had to live for a time in my grandparents’ garage. (I was about 12 years old then. I recall the time that I got a raging case of poison oak. It quickly spread over my whole body. I remember my Mom putting calamine lotion on the bubbly eruptions that she could see, then asking me, “Anywhere else?” And, I blurted out, “Yes, Mom, it’s down there, too!” Awwwww, she tenderly applied the lotion to my dick and balls; in for a dime, in for a dollar. Anyway, my body was so ravaged by the poison that I had to go to the doctor in Felton. He decided that I needed some kind of antihistamine injection, and…I was deathly afraid of shots. So, I ran out of the doctor’s office, and my Mom and the doc had to chase me down on Highway 9. Oh, how embarrassing!)
(15) Throughout my youth (through high school), I was involved in sports virtually the entire time. My Mom attended one Little League game (the City Championship, which we won), one varsity high school basketball game (against San Gabriel, in which I started), and zero swim meets, when Terry and I were in competitive swimming, nor any Pop Warner football games. She was too busy raising children and attending to my sisters’ drama, working (in the 60’s), and making my Dad happy. She certainly deserves a pass in this area; I’m sure she was proud of me, even though she couldn’t attend my games.
(16) My Mom and Dad expected their children to do well in school, and I did, even though I put forth a minimal effort. When I was accepted to UCLA during my senior year of high school, I got zero acknowledgement from either my Mom or my Dad, probably because they didn’t want to have the painful talk about their inability to help me out with college costs. So, I had to fend for myself, and chose to work my way through Cal State L.A. I know that my Mom was proud of me, because she told me all the the time.
(17) I got mononucleosis in college (working after school and partying hard at my fraternity, Delta Chi, where I was living). I called home and said, “Help, Mommy!”, and she came and rescued me, took me home, and nursed me back to health.
(18) After my third year of college, I felt that I was wasting my time, not really putting forth a good effort. I was not happy with myself. So, I came up with the idea of enlisting in the Air Force (the Vietnam War was going on!), and my Mom was OK with it. She even drove me to the induction center on my last day of freedom. As I climbed into her Mustang, my pants ripped on the seam between the zipper and my butt. Just a small tear. Mom said, “Go in and change pants.” I responded, “No problem. When I get there, I will be issued uniforms.” Actually, they didn’t issue uniforms for at least four days, so I had to march all over the AFB and do calisthenics in those pants, with the tear that grew larger each day. By the fourth day, the entire bottom of the pants was ripped open, with my underwear hanging out, blowing in the wind. Mom was right, as usual.
(19) Mom used to send me letters and goodie packages when I was in the military. It’s hard to explain how much those little things mean to you when you are away from your family for the first time.
(20) I learned how to snow ski when I was in the military, stationed in Merced, California. Somehow, I got my Mom and Dad to visit me, and I took them on their initial snow skiing endeavor at Dodge Ridge. They were somewhat hooked, and this led to many ski trips in the years to follow. On one trip, at Mammoth Mountain, I badgered Mom and Dad to ski in an area which was, in retrospect, beyond their abilities. I said, “Trust me. Just follow me on this trail.” My Mom fell on Scotty’s Run and slid down, backward and screaming, about 1,000 ft until she mercifully stopped. She never trusted me again on skis: she’d just say, “Scotty’s Run!”
(21) I met the love of my life, Charlie, just after getting out of the Air Force, when I was working at Queen of the Valley Hospital, where she was a nurse. Little did I know that she was supporting four sons. Anyway, my Mom (and Dad) were a bit shocked that I was getting serious about a divorced lady with children, but that dissolved when they met Charlie, and they probably knew that she was THE ONE. From that moment forward, my Mom and Dad accepted those four boys as my own issue, and treated them just like all of their other grandchildren.
(22) For all the years of my youth, and young adulthood, and even after that, my Mom would go to great effort to make big Thanksgiving and Christmas celebrations, cooking all the food and decorating, etc. She did a magnificent job, and those events grew even larger, as the family grew, with wives and grandchildren. It was only after my Dad died unexpectedly in 1998, that my Mom began to relinquish this duty. She’d earned a rest, to be sure.
(23) My Mom and Dad were introduced to world travel by Charlie and I many years ago, when we talked them into doing a 7-day Royal Caribbean cruise on the “Song of Norway”. After that, they were hooked, and traveled all over the place, many times with Charlie and I. The four of us were great travel companions, really enjoying each other’s company. My Mom budgeted for these trips, and Dad just figured, “If she thinks we can afford it, I guess we can.” I can remember the four of us sitting at an outdoor cafe, just across the street from the Casino at Monte Carlo, when my Dad ordered a Coke, and the charge was $10 or something like that. He got all worked up about it, but my Mom told us later, “If he only knew what this trip was costing us…!!!” (That reminds me of another story: the time we walked off the ship in St. Maarten, and there was a Rastafarian-type guy selling local music that sounded great. Mom and Dad started dancing, impromptu, making fools of themselves and enjoying it. Dad bought a CD from the guy: “Hey, what a deal…this would cost me double back in the States!” Anyway, when my Dad got home, he found out that the tape only had music on one side…five songs, not ten. My Mom got a good laugh out of that one.)
(24) The last cruise that we took with Mom and Dad was a 7-day Mediterranean, beginning in Barcelona. We spent a day or so there before boarding the ship, highlighted by my Dad falling down the stairway in a subway. Not to be outdone, at the first meal onboard, Mom bit into a hard roll and one of her front teeth broke off, giving her a goofy, “Billy Bob ” grin, which totally embarrassed her. To top that off, wouldn’t you know it, the four of us got an invitation to sit at the Captain’s Table for one dinner, and Mom ended up spending a lot of the time with a dinner napkin to her mouth, hiding the giant hole in her smile, and showing great poise, under the circumstances. On another night, same cruise, Mom had a reaction to some shellfish, passed out in her stateroom, and had to be rushed to the onboard hospital. All in all, though, it was a nice cruise, even though my Dad was “tired” a lot. Little did we know that he would be dead in a matter of months. Bummer.
(25) My Mom worked up until my Dad retired. She was employed by Crown Zellerbach Paper Company for many years, starting out as a nobody, and ending up as integral part of their sales force. She developed a nice rapport with salesmen and buyers, and her bosses there really loved her. She was always on pins and needles about the job at CZ, because she had lied on her application, telling them she had two children instead of four! Yet, she would get everyone off to school, into L.A. to work, drive home and make dinner for Dad, and be a great mother for any and all problems that might occur. That woman could multi-task!
(26) After retirement, Mom and Dad moved to Vista, California where they lived in an own-your-own-lot MH subdivision. It had a Community Center, which housed pool tables, a kitchen, and a large meeting room with dance floor. My parents were just getting into Dixieland dancing at the time, and they became fixtures at the Community Center. My Dad built improvements to the Center with the other old geezers, and my Mom became Social Chairman. For many years, she produced the once-a-month community party at the facility, providing a meal and entertainment for those who bought tickets. There were lots of theme parties; the two of them loved wearing costumes. Mom did a great job orchestrating the events, and my Dad tended bar at those occasions. They really found their calling at Vista Del Mar; it was a perfect retirement situation for them.
(27) My Mom was very proud of the fact that she was the financial brains of the Manning family. She monitored their income, budgeted expenses and special extravagances (like travel), and invested their idle money in C.D.’s and such. A couple of times, Charlie and I needed to borrow some short term money, and instead of going to a bank, we asked Mom if she’d want to help out. She did a couple of times, and we always paid her at least twice the going rate of interest, because they needed everything they could get. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, and it made Mom believe that she was a very shrewd money manager.
(28) Every marriage has it’s ups and downs, and my marriage with Charlie has had a few. And, each time, my Mom was there to lend support, to listen, to advise…but, not push. She always did the right thing. And, I know that she was very supportive of my sisters’ and brother’s marriage dramas when they arose. She’s been solid as a rock, in that regard, always lending an ear, a shoulder to cry on, etc. We couldn’t have asked for a better Mother, in the love department.
(29) My Mother had a lousy childhood. Her Dad was a womanizer and didn’t show her any love whatsoever, and her Mom (my Nana) was an alcoholic floozy, a total bust as a mother, and a horrible example to her little, only child. My Mom dragged herself out of that crumby life and became a Model Wife and Mother. And, during that time, when she had her own family to tend to, my Mom became a mother to her own mother, helping her (Nana) and her husband (Benny) shake alcoholism, clean up their lives, and make a new one up in Santa Cruz. Then, when Nana and Benny moved back to Southern California, my Mom was nursemaid to the two of them in their final years, watching over them, taking them to the doctors, showing them every kindness, etc., as they wound down their lives. She was with them, literally holding their hands, giving them comfort, to the very end. She deserves a Sainthood, just for that loving effort, in my opinion.
(30) Later in life, after my Dad passed, my Mom made a big mistake and married an 80 year-old guy (“Ray”) who romanced her. She didn’t want to get married, but he insisted (for tax purposes on his estate), and so they did. He didn’t drink, didn’t like movies, wasn’t into family events, etc…kind of a fuddy-duddy, to be honest…who like to repeat the same old phony war stories. (Check out this true story: Charlie and I took Mom and Ray to Ensenada, Mexico one day. While downtown, we bought Mom a Margarita. And, then, another. Ray wasn’t drinking, as usual. Anyway, after walking the main street, we took them to a very special restaurant built…I’m not kidding!…at the point of the small bay where my parents used to have their Mexican hideaway back in the early 60’s. Mom ordered another Margarita as we sat down in the restaurant. In short order, she excused herself to go to the restroom, and was gone for quite awhile. Eventually, Charlie went in there only to find Mom passed out on the floor. We had to carry my comatose Mom out to the car (through an in-progress wedding!), pour her into the front seat, and high-tail it to the border. We were lucky that she had come to by the time the U.S. agents checked her out. After that incident, she rarely drank.) Anyway, after Mom married Ray, his robust health almost immediately took a nose dive, and my Mom endured a tortured couple of married years, as her dying husband made a total mess of her home and ran her ragged. Yet, she stuck by him, “in sickness and health”, you know, to the very end. More Sainthood earned.
(31) Until recently, my Mom and I had a tradition of watching the Oscars together every year. We both liked the movies and the history of them. (When my Mom was a teenager, she worked at one of the big theatres in downtown Los Angeles…where, allegedly, you would pay 10 cents to see the featured attraction plus you got a candy bar and a bag of popcorn.) We did the Oscars together for a long time, then Charlie and I did it with Mom, and, finally, a few years ago, Kellie, Claudia and her boy-toy Ted got included in the festivities. Often, we would get all dressed up, and I’d make a nice meal. It was a special day each year with my Mom, one that I cherished.
The days are now counting down on my Mom’s life. I prefer not to get overly sad and melancholy about this, because she has lived a very full life, with many accomplishments and memories, and has raised four children who she is very proud of and who love her very much. And, I know that she knows this and is happy for it.
The last time I saw my Mom, her eyes watered up and she said, “I love you, Craig.”
That may be my final memory of my Mom, and, if so, that’s not so bad.