Living with a parent as an older adult is not like having a roommate. You may have lived as a full-grown, self-sufficient adult, but your “roomie” is still your momma, and, in her eyes, you are still 8 years old. Conversations with Momma could be enlightening, challenging, infuriating, and awkward – often simultaneously. Any sentence that began with “Let me ask you a...
I don’t know much about John Hodo except that he was important to Momma. He had a wife, although their legal marital status was murky. She was ample-sized, matching John’s burly frame. They lived at the end of a dirt road in a wooden house that had seen better days. It had a large front porch with the obligatory rocking chairs and a smaller back porch with a manual crank washer. To a...
Momma had an odd way of communicating. It was nebulous and imprecise. I spent my childhood in a quandary, a constant state of confusion. When I was eight, she called out, “Gerry Neil, bring me that thing.” “What thing, Momma?” It must be important because she used my middle name. “You know, that thing. That thing in yonder.” Still lost, I waited. She...
The daughter of an old Hollywood family had a beautiful birthday tradition. She would call her mother to thank her for being her mother. What a wonderful idea! I started a similar tradition, sending Momma flowers or a plant for my birthday. Today, it was a basket of gardenias. Growing up, a gardenia bush stood outside my bedroom window. Momma would open all the windows each spring. It was...
The Boys were up for a visit. After of full day of “Running Uncle Gerry Ragged,” they fell asleep on the sofa. Knowing that Mom was tired and her arthritis was kicking her, I offered to help get them to bed. My attempts to rouse the 7-year-old were an epic failure. He wouldn’t budge and fought every attempt to wake him. Momma nudged me aside and said, “That’s OK. Here’s what you need...
When we celebrated my nephew’s seventh birthday, I wasn’t keen on the idea of him turning six the year before. Despite my angst, I realized that there was nothing I could do about his turning seven. There we were, celebrating getting another year older. He was all excited with the attention, especially with the presents. When asked if he wanted to open presents first or have the cake first...
My name is Gerry, pronounced with a hard “G.” Momma wanted a non-traditional name for her son - something different. Different is what she got.