A Mom Story

I have enough documented and mis-remembered memories to fill a memoir several hundred of pages long if I wished to do that. The jury is still out on the quality, but there is no doubt my itch to write about my trips down memory lane has been a major focal point of my writing.

Many memories are brief flashes I often don't even have time to think, "I ought to write about that". Others are memories passed to me by family and friends. Some were so popular with family or friends, the incidents were common go to good times to relive at dinner, on a road trip, or in the evening after dinner with whatever liquid refreshment one usually had after dinner as they relaxed in the comfort of over stuffed furniture. 

My Mom was a good story teller. One story she told numerous times always made me laugh no matter that I knew it by heart. It was about her and my older brothers.

First, I think I need to lay some background here. 

Mom was a proud 5th generation Californian; or was 4th generation? Regardless, her forebears were among the earliest settlers in that area before the Gold Rush. Her parents were members of the movers and shakers in the San Francisco Bay area. The social scene of her youth was probably like that of any area in the rest of the country that had a sizable upper middle class. Traditions were adhered to that had begun years earlier.

One tradition were Saturday afternoon strolling tours by well heeled ladies wearing the latest fashions through the cluster of department stores and the streets of downtown San Francisco. While purchases were sometimes made, it was more about being seen and seeing what the other women were flaunting this week. Often they would gather on corners or store entrances in small groups and exchange polite niceties while smiling at snarky remarks made at the expense of those ladies not present. The younger women with children often gussied up the brood and dragged them downtown with them. After all, well dressed, well behaved children were the perfect accessories to have in tow to really impress the judgmental grand dames who controlled the social scene in the area. Getting a smile or a nod from them was what moved the younger ladies up in standing. Often the day was topped off with High Tea at the Palace Hotel.

My mother's first husband was a Navy Captain who was busy fighting WWll out in the Pacific somewhere. Mom moved back home with her parents while he was deployed. Naturally, she picked up the habits she had been weaned  on and often trekked into San Francisco for the Saturday ladies parades. She would often clean up my two older brothers and drag them along. 

My brothers, at ages six and seven, looked like twins. My mom loved dressing them in matching outfits. One Saturday she had the boys clothed in recently purchased matching sailor outfits, complete with the classic white dixie cup hats. Off to San Francisco they went. 

After parking and making sure the two little punks were still clean and worthy, she began her Saturday afternoon strut, a boy firmly gripped in each hand. Their first destination was The Emporium, a huge department store on Market Street. Somewhere along the way, they encountered a man who had a disability. He dragged one foot, one of his arms hanged useless and his face was contorted. Joe and Doug were very interested in this guy; so much so Mom said she had to stop and fill them in with what she thought was the man's problem without being mean. The boys apparently accepted her explanation and the three of them entered The Emporium. 

As they began the approach to the escalator, two older women were walking towards Mom.  As they got closer, my mom heard one say to her buddy, "What a cute set of twins. Isn't a shame though about the one."

Mom turned to look at Joe, my oldest brother. He was dragging one foot with an arm drooping and his face was contorted with his tongue hanging out. Mom didn't hesitate. She gave him a slap across his mouth and said, "Christ on a crutch Joey, straighten up and fly right." 

The two dowagers gasped and hurried on their way. 

My other brother Doug was grinning from ear to ear until Mom gave him the stare. Having straightened out her little punks, she regained her proud composure and returned to her strut. 

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I picked 1973's "Super Strut", by Eumir Deodado. It is definitely strutting music..... One of the all time great jams from the 1970s. Turn it up to wow!