Mom

I can’t always remember what I’ve written. I know that forgetfulness comes with age, that it’s just natural part of life. It also has something to do with the medicines I take.

Anyway, I don’t know if I’ve already written here that I talk to my mom on the phone every day at 6 p.m. If you already know that, you’ll just have to excuse me.

My mom is a pistol. Though she’s 93, she drives herself to mass each morning, then goes to the grocery store or runs other errands. When she comes home, she works on and usually finishes the New York Times crossword puzzle. In the afternoon she gardens, washes clothes, cooks and does other chores.

A few weeks ago, she, this 93-year-old woman dug a small post hole, mixed a bag of concrete, and reset a tipped-over clothesline post in her back yard. "Mom! Why didn’t you hire someone?" I asked.

"Ah, hell. It was a small enough job," she answered. "Why should I waste the money."

Yeah, she’s a pistol.

I love talking with her, though it’s a chore. She’s almost as deaf as the clothesline post she put up in her yard. I spend half my time with her hollering, repeating the same things like a parrot until she understands.

I do the "Times" crossword puzzle every day, just as she does. Then, when we’re stumped, we compare notes on the phone. The puzzles are all edited by Will Shortz, a celebrity who’s on public radio every Sunday morning. One day last week Shortz asked puzzle solvers to identify the man who said, "Everything in life is luck"?

The answer was "Donald Trump."

"What’s the answer to that question about luck?" my mother wanted to know.

"Donald Trump," I said. I had cheated and found the answer on line.

"Donald Duck?" my mother hollered. "What do you mean?"

"Trump, mom. Donald Trump!"

"What the hell does Donald Duck have to do with it! That’s the silliest damn thing I ever heard." My mother didn’t always curse like that. It’s a part of her getting older, just like my forgetfulness is part of my aging.

Finally, I got her to understand it was Trump not Duck who made the crack about luck.
"I swear," my mom said. "No wonder Will Shortz has to wear a disguise in public. I’d like to punch him in the nose."

No wonder I look forward to talking to my mother every day. No wonder that’s the one appointment I have every day I never seem to forget.