For Mom

My mother loves old movies. Frank Sinatra and Gene Kelly are two of her favorites and I grew up spending Sunday afternoons curled up in her bed with her watching old movies. But even before then, when I was a baby, my mother would sing old songs to me to make me stop crying. Once, I am told, my parents had taken me on a road trip to visit family in New Jersey. I was crying, so my mom sang to me. She always sang “Jeepers! Creepers! Where’d you get those peepers? Jeepers! Creepers! Where’d you get those EYES?!” She’d flash her fingers and emphasize “eyes” at the end to make me giggle. The only problem with her sweet, good intentions is that her voice is not what most people would call pretty, or even close to being in tune. My mother’s voice sounds like brownies that taste just slightly out of the norm, like someone added extra salt to them, or maybe even chili powder. She is completely aware of the problem, but my mother, bless her soul, has always sung to her children. My mom tells me that when they thought I had finally fallen asleep, she continued to sing just a little longer to make sure I stayed that way. My dad turned to my mother and said, “Ginny, she’s asleep now…. You don’t have to sing anymore.” He hurt my mom’s feelings and she stopped singing. I woke up again not long after and I wouldn’t stop screaming. In an effort to regain some sanity and tranquility during the rest of the long drive my dad asked my mom to sing me to sleep again. In a grand display in the stubbornness that I believe I’ve probably inherited, my mother flat out refused to sing to me no matter how much my dad begged her. My mom, more used to the crying than my father, ignored it and allowed him to be miserable for the rest of my back seat wailing session. I still remember my mom singing that song to me as a young girl and, as a consequence, I am probably one of the only Americans under the age of 55 who actually says "Jeepers."

LOVE YOU MOM!!!