MY MOM

Many years ago, when we were kids, Mom struggled with swearing. My sister asked Mom to try not to swear so Mom tried. The S word became ‘Shinny’ or ‘Crud’. The F word became ‘Fish’ of ‘Fudge’. Ass stayed Ass since Mom is not a fan of donkeys due to them smelling like shinny.

Taking The Lord’s name in vain was never tolerated by Mom. No replacement word for that one just a stone stare from Mom if you did. Of course Mom is not perfect and mistakes were made.

Still love the look on that driver’s face, who cut us off in traffic once, when Mom rolled the window down and said, ‘What’s your problem you ‘Fudgy Fish Head’. Still a confusing moment. A term that would used often to others who crossed family. I had a hard time learning how to read. The whole phonics sounding stuff out did not work well for me. Had to learn to sight read which was at times difficult. Quite difficult. I also stuttered which made things harder when struggling to read aloud.

Fortunately, God blessed me with two experienced educators, my Grandma and Mom. Family connections people, love them.Mom had to show me what a word looked like so I knew how to spell it. I had to hear said word to make that connection. Still have some problems with that at times.

Some considered me dumb or at least below average, but my parents and Grandparents did not agree. In the summer of 1985, to get into Fourth grade, I had to read a book and explain it. I picked 'The Hobbit'. Mom helped me stay on track. We discussed the book at great lengths. This began mom's and mine ability to shoot the breeze when it came to pop culture and the need for imagination.

One of the reasons I still write is because of mom, who herself was a clever writer. She proofread most of my papers as I had a tendency of throwing half dozen comas in a mammoth sentence. Also I like squeezing a million ideas in a two page paper. Mom had to remind me that essays are not meant to have cliffhangers or be a mini series. We even talked comic books sometimes. By the way, Mom, huge fan of 'Uncle Scrooge' and 'Superman'. And what goes well with a comic book... A nice bag of French Fries. A potato that has chosen to slim down. Slim down into smaller pieces of itself on a plate. Maybe an ego trip.

A lovely side dish with a very nice cheeseburger or something that identifies as a sandwich member. And what does one place on a great stack of said French Fries? Ketchup? Sure, if you want to get a weird look from my mom. The look that resemble, why have you denounced Christ, you pagan. Yeah, mom didn't put ketchup on French Fries.

She didn't even call them French Fries. They were simply, 'Fries'. Kind of like you talking about a neighbor down the street. Mom put chicken gravy on her fries. Not brown gravy, chicken gravy. She doesn't even like chicken. When we go to Brown's or Popeye's, Mom would get a boat load sides. Who needs chicken when you got red beans and rice? By the way, mom would get mashed potatoes and brown gravy. Just saying.

Anyway, mom claimed that fries and chicken gravy was a delicacy of Pennsylvania, where she grew up. Her mom, my Grandma, never remembered this trend in a state that My Grandmother lived in all of her life except for her last six years. I got to admit fries and gravy does taste good, but man, was it weird seeing mom order gravy with her fries.

Made dad laugh. Mom's answer was, 'Chicken; potatoes and gravy is well though out meal'. Or a strange snack with everything condensed down to a sauce and a group of stick like potatoes. Ta-da.