The Summa Mamas

Mama T, I remember so fondly our days of crewing for Yale. We were the first female crew members and had to help each other along with blister medicine and flesh-toned bandages so that the guys wouldn't use our "weakness" as an excuse to kick us off the team. Of course, a Texan like you and a Kansan like me (at the time) wouldn't let little things like that stop us. What would our pioneer ancestors have thought?

We finally earned their respect by being part of the team that won the big race (of course!) and were feted with champagne. Remember that's when we first met Manolo? He lent us those fabulous Prada shoes to wear to the dance that night?

Ah, what wonderful memories I have of those dear old Yale days with you. :-)

Remember when you were nine years old and you told momma that Sam Houston wasn't no big thing? And she marched your young petticoated self right out to the Huntsville museum and afterwards made you watch John Wayne's "The Alamo" just to make sure you didn't have no other smart ideas?

Then there was that time last month when she found your old diaries. And when you figured out that she knew what you hoped she wouldn't, you said in your defense that you were young and needed the money but then she answered that you were 35 when you wrote it and were reasonably well-off financially and what could you say? I told her that 35 is still relatively young...

Remember the time that we were making Christmas cookies together? And I said we had to make pfeffernusse because they were a part of my heritage and you said, "No way am I putting black pepper in COOKIES. That's disgusting!"?

And remember how you felt bad about hurting my feelings (because it was my grandmother's recipe), and so you put in an extra teaspoon of pepper to make it up to me before I could say "NO, stop!"? And remember how you turned on the mixer and the kids had coughing fits and the dough turned gun-metal gray and no one would eat even a nibble of them?

(Yeah, me neither.)

Remember that time my washer broke, and you let me come over to do laundry at your house, and somehow some of your stuff got mixed in with mine? I was finding alien socks in my laundry for weeks! Good thing we finally got that straightened out.

(Except yesterday I found a purple sock I've never seen before. Is that yours? Give me a call if you want to pick it up.)

Hmm...so many memories. So little time. I'll have to sleep on it.

You don't remember me, but I sure remember you. Remember that time you attended my poetry reading with all nine of your dogs? That was pretty awesome, especially when you fed the schnauzer cheese and crackers by dangling them from your teeth. And then you showed us how you taught the golden retriever to sing, and the dog surprised everyone by singing one of my poems. It was the best poetry reading I've ever had, and I even sold two copies of my book, one to your dog. I've been a faithful reader of your blog ever since. Thank heaven for such wonderful people in the world!

You already know what I'm going to say, we've been over it so many times.

We went to visit my grandfather, just us two, and when we got there he was dying; his breaths coming slower and more ragged as we watched. The nurses told us he wouldn't eat anymore and he wouldn't be too much longer. I went out to the desk to make some calls, to my dad and to his sisters, to tell them to come and when I came back to the room there you were, by his bed, your head down close to him -- and he wasn't even your grandpa.

His breathing was worse and there were long spaces in between his breaths. I teared up as I heard you tell him it was OK, that it was his time to go and be with God. I heard you tell him his family and friends would be waiting and you told him to look over me when he made it over. I didn't know what to do, the nurses weren't doing anything, I wondered why they didn't help him breathe, I wondered if I should run and call a doctor, I was wringing my hands and then you reached out and took my hand in yours. You pulled me over and put my hand in his and I calmed right down. I was able to say goodbye. I saw my own tears falling down on his hand and then he was gone, he wasn't breathing any more.

You turned to me then to hug me and I felt the hair at the nape of my neck tingling. I put my arms around you and buried my face into your shoulder and then, well, here we're at it again, aren't we... then it felt my grandfather's spirit, or maybe the Holy Spirit rush through us. It felt like our pasts were somehow escaping, like dying spirits from our chests, and were intertwining in the air. It was like we were entering Heaven together, or at least the heaven of each others' body for the lifetime of that hug. It was like a rushing of wind that didn't even rustle our hair, and then it was over. I know you always say I need to let it go, MamaT, but I can't forget it. I can't forget the day my grandfather died and Heaven came down and touched us.

Julie, my arms get sore, just remembering those days. And that Manolo! Mmmmm.

My bro, now you know why contrary to all other Texans, I don't like John Wayne. Such a tragic memory!

Jamie, who knew just that little bit of extra pepper would do THAT much damage? Go figure.

Arwen, does that purple sock have little Homer Simpson heads all over it? If it does, it's mine. If not, well, who else have you been mixin' laundry with???? Hee!

Jane, it was wonderful. The dog still sings your poems, and I'm working hard to get on David Letterman's Stupid Pet Tricks. What a night. Hang in there, those books are just BOUND to sell. Someday.

Oh, Dan, you know it just can't be. You're from a snowy place. I'm not. You're a poet, I'm not. I'm a Texan.....and oh, honey, you're just NOT. Memories are all we can have...... Bwwwwhaaaaaahaaaaaaahaaaaaaahaaaaaa!

i am so totally waiting for someone else to post after dan's...man, was that good.

(we have many a talented folk in the blog-o-sphere, don't we?)

okay, mamaT, you did it, thankie :)

remember that time when were were kids, way back before i was Catholic and you wanted to put an upside-down statue of St. Gerard in smock's back yard so she'd *birth out a lot of babies*? i was a mere Methodist back then and thought that was hooey, you silly Catholics!

fast-forward to my being an adult and taking RCIA classes...at my first class, i was asked (for the first time ever), "what made you convert?" i thought of that time in your backyard, with poor St. Gerard, and how smock now has 6 babies and realizing, with a smile on my face, that that was my defining moment :)

Dear MamaT,

At the chili cookoff--you told me, remember, me who knows nothing about all-Texas cuisine--to run get some chilis. Well, I don't know a pablano from a cubana from a chipotle and I picked a handful of the prettiest little orangy peppers you ever did see.

Of course, you weren't any chili expert yourself and you sliced up a handful of these (Scotch Bonnets) and dumped 'em right into the pot. Only afterwards, when you had to put the aloe on your hands to you come up with the idea that might not have been such a great idea.

When the judges came by and dipped out a ladle of your chili. Sure was a good thing they had a first aid squad at hand and loads of lime and tequila to quench the flames. (Or was it milk.) And you won by default in the category 5 Alarm.

Sometimes you just can't keep a good team down. I'll be happy to make your grocery runs for the next pie bake-off down here in celebration. I'm willing to bet you can whip something together with star-fruit and pomegranates!

shalom,

Steven

Man, that was some time, the night we got arrested in Dallas for shoepolishing all the cars in the West End with "Habemus Papem" last year on April 19, when our new pope was elected! The excitement was just too much for us, I guess. Luckily, we called Smockmama, and she came downtown and bailed us out. Good luck next month when we go to trial. The good news is that I heard the judge overseeing our case is Catholic, so he might be lenient on us ;)

See ya in court! Viva El Papa!

Remember the time we jumped in that well?

oh, i loved those times in the well -- what fun! you know it must be sinful if we have that much fun in a well!

San Antonio. River Walk. Fajitas and margaritas and the mariachis coming over to serenade the dos mujeres senoras.

Ah, T, what an awesome night that was.

M2, and just look how well our effort worked for the Smock! Little did she know she'd have us to thank in such abundance!

Steven, I still have the trophy, sitting on my mantel, right in between the stuffed deer head and the alligator jaw we got when we attended the "Gator Jumparoo" show last time I was down your way. I'm off to the kitchen to work on tart recipes for those star fruit and pomegranates. I think Food Network is our next logical step, don't you?

TiaKay, how could I forget? And can you believe that simple celebration (albeit with shoe polish) could ever be a cause for arrest down here? Good thing Smock was pregnant and didn't go! Who woulda bailed us out?

Marsha and Smock! The well! Just remember, though. I don't skinny dip--I chunky dunk!

Peony, let's go back. NOW!!!!!

You PROMISED you would never tell anyone about that! At least I was sober by the time we got home.