Happy Mother’s Day
This past week was Mother’s Day. Since my mom passed away almost 10 years ago, I am the matriarch in my little family now. That said, I still have many memories of my mom being my mom. About a week ago, I found a picture my mom took when I was 10 years old. The two of us took a mini vacation to the local beach about 90 minutes away from our home in Northern New Jersey. It was an opportunity to enjoy the sun and surf and to connect with one another. I had recently received a snorkel and swim mask, and I was excited to try them out. Honestly, there wasn’t much to see through my mask in the NJ surf, and I was severely near-sighted, but still I was excited to try them out.
My mother seemed excited too. I’m not sure why, but she thought I looked super cute in that swim mask. She insisted on taking my picture with the swim mask on - on dry land. Who would wear a swim mask on dry land? I remember feeling awkward, standing on the beach 30 feet or so from the water with a swim mask on. I even had my glasses on underneath the mask. No matter, my mom had to take that picture.
Now when I look at the picture, it takes my memory back close to 50 years ago. I remember it was hot in the room we stayed in. There was no air conditioning, so my mom set up a table fan to help us sleep restfully through the night. Did we bring the fan with us? We had central air conditioning in our house, so there was no need for a table fan there. I can’t remember if the fan came with us or if we purchased it down the shore. All New Jersey-ites call the beach “down the shore.” I remember my 10th grade English teacher saying, “Unless you live on a hill, the shore is not 'down.’” Still, we always claimed on beach days that we were going "down" the shore.
I remember visiting my grandmother on that trip as well. She would stay at a guest house near the beach for the summer. Once a week, the space offered bingo in the evenings. We never played bingo at home, but that week we were in town for bingo night. We even purchased our own bingo cards. I was very excited, imagining all the cool toys I could buy if my card won. My card did not win. But there was a man at the table who kept winning. I was amazed to see this man shout, “Bingo!” over and over again. I remember the next day my mother telling me that the man actually didn’t win all of those times. His table neighbors had given him their winning cards so he could shout, “Bingo!” over and over, looking like some sort of magical bingo expert. Really, his chances were the same as everyone else’s.
One night on the trip, my mom took me to play Skee-Ball at an arcade. Like many arcade games, Skee-Ball looks easy but isn’t really so. I deposited many quarters in the game and only received a few tickets back. I was able to trade in my tickets for some lame prizes like a rubber ball and Chinese finger cuffs. Still, this experience was novel for me, and I was excited to receive my prizes.
When I think of my own children and their experiences with me, I wonder what they will remember. Will my son remember the day he and I went to an amusement park together or maybe the trip we took to New York City? How about that time my other son and I went to a family party for my uncle’s 85th birthday? There are milestones I remember that my kids were too young to have memories of. There was my oldest son’s first popsicle and my youngest son’s trip to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame (son, don’t say I don’t take you anywhere). At just one, my daughter got to attend a 75th surprise birthday party for my mom. She had her first taste of her uncle’s famous chocolate mousse at that party. In my mind’s eye, I can still see her reaching for the spoon as her older cousin fed her the delectable treat.
Unfortunately, my mom isn’t here for me to ask what her memories of me are. I don’t know if she passed remembering the trip to the beach or the request for me to wear the swim mask on the beach so that I could pose for a photo. Now that our world is electronic and photos are snapped multiple times every day, will they provide as much novelty in the future? Perhaps there will be so many to sift through, my children will be overwhelmed by them. Or perhaps they will help to curate more details of the memories of our time together. I’m hoping for the latter. Happy Mother’s Day to all the mothers out there, young, old, and passed.
