Living with a parent as an older adult is not like having a roommate. You may have retired from a successful career and lived as a full-grown, self-sufficient adult, 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 question” had me white-knuckled because I had no idea what was coming.
At the end of one of those medical commercials that listed a dozen scary side effects and fatal drug interactions, a reassuring voice concludes by encouraging you to consult your doctor. Momma took a breath and uttered those dreaded words, “Let me ask you a question.”
It was bound to happen. The evening had been too quiet.
“What’s Peyronie’s disease?”
I froze. Of course I knew what it was, but how do I explain it to my momma? After the “pee-pee” and “tally whacker” phase of my life, we didn’t talk about such things.
Still, her question was an honest one. Those commercials were very cryptic when they talked about personal issues and could be confusing. They invited questions.
Monna was 83. She was married for 50 years, birthed a son, and had changed the diapers of her grandsons. She had an anatomical frame of reference, so I kept it simple.
“It’s when a man’s thang is bent. Not crooked like Bill Clinton’s, but bent.”
That’s all she needed. I had passed that night’s pop quiz!
She didn’t always know what to expect from my responses either. When the news reported that there was a Defense Department program to study UFOs, she turned to me and said, “I think that’s a waste of money, don’t you?”
I looked up from the laptop, slightly annoyed at the interruption. I was making a wish list of Star Trek and Doctor Who toys, uh, I mean collectibles. Serious stuff. But her question was important.
“Well, first contact with an alien species can be tricky business. It worked out OK with the Vulcans. But when the Visitors from V showed up, things didn’t go very well. We should be prepared, so, yeah, it’s a good idea.”
I resumed my surfing as she mulled over my answer. There was no follow-up.
Sometimes she would make a statement that needed no discussion. After a trip to the doctor, she turned on the TV just as the anchor was reporting that Barry Manilow had confirmed he had been married to his husband for several years.
After a moment, she simply said, “I didn’t know Barry Manilow was gay.”
