I inherited a lot of things from my mother. I got the fat Italian skin, my artistic abilities, a love of reading and a sarcastic stream of consciousness that runs through every relationship I have (including this blog). I have only one memory of her actually throwing up, so I don’t think I can credit her with the genetic connection for my queasiness.
The vomiting memory is more of a family story, because I was too young to have actually witnessed it. Legend says that my mom, my three sisters and I were returning from an amusement park island in the middle of the Detroit river known as Bob-Lo Island. The Bob-Lo steamer was a huge Show Boat type ferry, and whether it was heat, choppy waves or just too much time on a carousel with four extremely talkative little girls, mom started to feel nauseous. Not wanting to draw attention to herself or make a mess, she then proceeded to throw up in her purse. I don’t know why she didn’t just lean over the railing like everybody else. I just hope she took her keys out before yakking.
She died a few years ago, and I miss her a lot. I sometimes wonder what her reaction to this website would be. I would have to turn the computer on for her and find the site, for she had no interest whatsoever in learning how. She would look at a few entries, check the spelling in the columns and make sure I was having fun doing it. Then she would laugh at the fact that I had actually included a story about her where she threw up in her purse, make herself a drink and a slice of bologna rolled up around some cottage cheese, and lie down on the couch to “rest her eyes.”
Happy Mother’s Day memories to all of us who are missing our moms, and to all the moms who are still here creating new ones. After brunch, why not take her to a movie? Here’s a list of the Top Ten Movies about Mothers compiled by some cheesy website. Or you could take her to see Thor. He’s the God of Thunder and apparently spends a lot of time with his shirt off. I bet she’d like it more than Stepmom.