Mom |
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Golden Mom |
In
1991 my Mom had a stroke which I will always believe was aided, induced, and
lashed onto my till-then tough, independent, loving Mom by the cigarette
industry's brilliant marketing strategies and the addictive qualities of
their sick product. One doctors said, "She'll probably be a
vegetaable for the rest of her life."
For 6 1/2 years my sister and I became my Mom's caretakers. For more on my Mom click some of the stuff on the left.
Some of these pictures were taken by Bob Wintrogen McClous and his wife Beth who did a a five part series on caretakers. Mom was featured in the story (link coming) and in Beth's Book (link coming)
Suzzane often covered Mom -- with ice cream diet cheating and readings and Garrison Keller and jokes -- when I had an evening meeting. "What, you back already? Why don't you go back to that meeting?" would often be Mom's warm greeting or my returned to a house filled with off-diet snacking and hilarity. Suzzane was a wonder cheat.
Matt, from the Jewish Community Center, was one of those rare California kids who actually did commnunity service. Mom looked forward to his walks. Mom particularly loved the community service the Cleveland St. Ignatius High kids did, often having to say to Marlene, "Now Marlene, get out of here, Darren is my boy and we're going for a walk. Leave him alone and quit talking to him. Let's go Darren." "Ok, MoFo."
"Dr. Borah is always trying to get my clothes off. I think he's a boob man." (For you tender ears, Mom maintained that "When you hit 70 you can say whatever you want. You earned it.") Nonetheless, Dr. B. we're sending this to Nader's Medical Health Group, so I reckon if you didn't vote for Ralph you will be getting some Good Doc Bad Doc press. |
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| SECTION 1 Golden Mom
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For about four weeks through December and into January 20, 1997 the sun didn't shine through San Francisco gray, rainy days. A few minutes after my Mom dropped her head and passed away, God filled the sky with sunshine. The sun hid for a month, but I figure God sent the sun so Dad could pilot his big Oldsmobile or his favorite Thunderbird, with dancing shoes on the front seat, to pick my Golden Mom up and take her to heaven. Mother's Day 2001. May Dad and you be having a wonderful dinner up there. We all miss you a lot down here.
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