Turning Points
Life is a journey. It has a beginning and it has an end. All along its path are events, places
and people who are turning points. Here, I relate some of these turning points in my own
journey. Hopefully, the stories will illuminate and maybe entertain some of those who care
enough to read.
Life is a journey. It has a beginning and it has an end. All along its path are events, places
and people who are turning points. Here, I relate some of these turning points in my own
journey. Hopefully, the stories will illuminate and maybe entertain some of those who care
enough to read.
| Mama July 21, 2006 |
Every kid should have the feelings and remembrance of his mother that I
have. I always felt that she favored me especially over the others.
As a youngster who wanted to go to daily mass, I recall returning home
and seeing her at the doorway from afar yelling for me to stop by the Big
Store and get a loaf of bread. I didn’t need money; we just told the clerk to
“charge it.”
She knew my love for sweets and shared it herself. During Lent she and
I abstained from candy and how sweet it was when we could indulge
ourselves at Easter. Whenever anything got lost she reminded me to
pray to St. Anthony, the patron saint of the lost, I guess. I don’t remember
it being all that effective but it was her solution for the misplaced stuff.
When I developed a ringworm on my scalp, she took me to Dr. Mudd’s
office where he asked me, “Does it hut?” before treating it. The same
was true with my frequent sore throats where he applied iodine with a
long cotton swab on a stick. It worked flawlessly.
have. I always felt that she favored me especially over the others.
As a youngster who wanted to go to daily mass, I recall returning home
and seeing her at the doorway from afar yelling for me to stop by the Big
Store and get a loaf of bread. I didn’t need money; we just told the clerk to
“charge it.”
She knew my love for sweets and shared it herself. During Lent she and
I abstained from candy and how sweet it was when we could indulge
ourselves at Easter. Whenever anything got lost she reminded me to
pray to St. Anthony, the patron saint of the lost, I guess. I don’t remember
it being all that effective but it was her solution for the misplaced stuff.
When I developed a ringworm on my scalp, she took me to Dr. Mudd’s
office where he asked me, “Does it hut?” before treating it. The same
was true with my frequent sore throats where he applied iodine with a
long cotton swab on a stick. It worked flawlessly.
The pet names Mama used with me will remain unspoken but they were another token of her
special affection.
She made the cherry pies which remain my favorite to this day, closely rivaled by the apple roll,
both from the fruit of trees in our backyard that survived the poaching of the birds… who survived
our BB guns.
She made underwear for the boys out of material from chicken feed bags. Sewing, washing and
ironing clothes in the days before automatic washers and dryers was indeed a tiresome chore.
Cooking for a family of ten before convenience foods was a never ending obligation.
My great regret is that I so little understood her later struggles with depression and the bottle. The
long siege of raising kids with never enough money, and a relationship with my father that had
cooled over the years must have been factors. Before her death, she had tried to get my thoughts
on the right to die literature she had been reading. But I was too obtuse to connect the dots. I
might have been able to deter her had I been a little less self absorbed and more alert.
special affection.
She made the cherry pies which remain my favorite to this day, closely rivaled by the apple roll,
both from the fruit of trees in our backyard that survived the poaching of the birds… who survived
our BB guns.
She made underwear for the boys out of material from chicken feed bags. Sewing, washing and
ironing clothes in the days before automatic washers and dryers was indeed a tiresome chore.
Cooking for a family of ten before convenience foods was a never ending obligation.
My great regret is that I so little understood her later struggles with depression and the bottle. The
long siege of raising kids with never enough money, and a relationship with my father that had
cooled over the years must have been factors. Before her death, she had tried to get my thoughts
on the right to die literature she had been reading. But I was too obtuse to connect the dots. I
might have been able to deter her had I been a little less self absorbed and more alert.
___________________________________________________
| And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:28 KJV) |
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