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| Mom, Dad & Me. There's water in my cup. |
Tomorrow
is my mom’s Birthing Day, a day when she remembers a time way back in 1960 when
I was born. Notice I say she “remembers” and not “celebrates.” There are some
things I don’t dare presume.
Actually,
I’ve always felt my mom’s love and support. She has a box full of stories I’ve
written over the years, she is interested in the cases I’ve had in court, and
she will brag at the person my daughter Chloe has grown up to be (winking that
my wife Kim deserves most of the credit).
She’s
always been a great mom. I’ve tried hard to be a good son.
But
I chuckle today at the memory of a Birthing Day 26 years ago when, for the
first time ever, she gave me a look of disapproval. The moment was captured in
this photograph, and if you look closely, you can see her facial expression
that sort of says, “You’re on thin ice here, buddy.”
The
occasion was my graduation from law school. I was living at the time with two
of my friends from high school – Dave Back (who we called Silk) and Janine
Creekmore (who we called Janine…go figure). We had a reverse “Three’s Company”
arrangement, and while Silk was John Ritter and Janine was Suzanne Sommers, I
somehow ended up being Don Knotts. But that’s a whole different story.
This
picture was taken on a night Silk, Janine and I threw a party, and everybody
was there. My graduation was only one of the reasons for our party, but for the
life of me I can’t remember what the other ones were. Maybe it was because Silk
became a vice-president of Pepsi, or maybe it was because Janine
single-handedly purchased the Huntington National Bank. The details are fuzzy.
My
mother would say my memory loss has nothing to do with age.
“You
need to drink some water,” she’s saying in this photo. “How many margaritas
have you had?”
I’d
never had this kind of conversation with her before. I made it through high
school, college and law school as someone who never drank. I just didn’t like
it. So I wasn’t accustomed to getting a third-degree interrogation like this. I
apparently wasn’t very adept at handling a margarita, either.
I
decided to impress Mom with my law degree. “I have the right to remain silent
you know. Dad here’s my lawyer, right?”
Dad
didn’t flinch. “My retainer’s $5,000. You’re on your own.”
I
became desperate and, like all people caught red-handed, resorted to the
tactics of a teenager. “Mom, I just drank what Silk and Janine gave me,” I
said. “I didn’t know there was tequila in there. It’s their fault.”
“Here
we go,” Dad said, the voice of an experienced defense attorney.
“Save
it, Jeff. I’m going to get you some water,” Mom said. “When I do, you’re going
to drink it. And I’m going to get you a plate of food.”
“Do
as she says, Jeff,” Dad said.
“Yes,
ma’am.”
Mom
added, “And when you’re done eating, I’m going to get you some coffee.”
I
quickly objected. “But I don’t like coffee,” I said.
“You
used to not like margaritas, too,” Mom responded. “Apparently you’re getting
the hang of new things. How about I go get you a carton of cigarettes while I’m
at it?”
Okay,
that last part I just made up. But make no mistake, my mom was mad at me, for
probably the first time ever.
It’s
something I’ve vowed never to let happen again. Ever. Especially when a camera
is around.
So
I’m thinking we should celebrate her Birthing Day tomorrow night by going out
to Campioni’s or Sammy’s or maybe Heather’s. We can reminisce about the good
old days and talk about Dad, and how he was a lightweight drinker, too (see the
beer in front of him? I guarantee he couldn’t drive home that night).
Maybe
I’ll even order a margarita.
For
Mom, of course.
I’ll
be the guy drinking water.