I've been feeling a little sentimental lately. I guess I can attribute it all to my daughter's talk about her "grandmaw" in heaven. Since my mother's death, baby girl has been obsessed with heaven and her grandmaw. Hell, I even dreamed that she wasn't dead after all. I dreamed that she was just still very ill, but was well on her way to recovery. Wishful thinking I guess....
Anydowner, the memories of my mom are my flooding my brain these days. My mom was always the "cool" mom. She had me when she was 18 years old, so she was always pretty young for a kid my age. She always dressed like "us," listened to "our" music, and chatted up all my friends like they were hers. It made me freakin' crazy!
While everyone else wished they had a super-cool mom like mine, I really wanted a mom like June Cleaver. Why didn't I have rules? Why wasn't I grounded for that C on my report card? I didn't want another friend; I wanted a mother!
When I was about 15 years old, my friends and I were really into rock music. We loved Journey and Van Halen and Styx... You name 'em; we saw 'em. LIVE. None of us had jobs so we'd bum lunch money all week long to buy a concert ticket and a t-shirt. (You wouldn't believe how much money I'd "borrow" in one day!!) The day after the concert, we'd come to school proudly sporting our new t-shirt like it was a badge of honor. We. Were. COOL.
When we weren't going to concerts, we would hit the Shyann Social Club. Back then, a Mississippi driver's license looked like a social security card. No picture. Info typed on a typewriter. EASY-PEEZY to alter. We all had fake IDs to get into the club. It was awesome! Every weekend they had a live band. I always had $5 to go out. One for gas money, one thrown into the "beer fund," and three for the cover charge. Between four of us, we'd drink a twelve pack of VERY cheap beer in the parking lot and pray a guy would buy us a beer or two inside.
One night, my friends and I went to the Shyann to watch one of our favorite bands, Baghdad. We were semi-groupies. They were Jethro Tull masters. We'd gone to the club with our friend, T, but she had to be home early. "No biggie. We'll just find a ride home," the rest of us said.
Mind you, the Shyann was in an adjacent town so we were a good way away from home. What the heck were we thinking?? And who the heck was going to bring us home?? We'll worry about that at closing time.
Fast forward to closing time. We still had no ride home. We were panicking because we'd spent all our money and couldn't afford a cab. We were fifteen and SCREWED. It was past everyone else's curfew. None of them would be able to come get us. Walking 30 miles was our last resort. Unless...
Thank God for liquid courage. Without it, I'd have never had this great idea. I had my friend scrounge up a dime for the pay phone. (Yes, we had those. Yes, they only cost a dime.) Desperate times call for desperate measures. I called my mom. At another club.
Yep, my mom and dad were partying at their regular hangout. I knew they would be. I had the number memorized, for crying out loud.
Mom, please don't yell at me.
"Why? Where are you??"
Okay, but you have to promise not to yell.
"I promise."
We're at the Shyann. T left us (I had to lie!).
"She did what?"
She left us at the Shyann. Now we don't have a ride home.
"Your dad is pretty drunk, but someone will be there to get you. Be waiting outside."
Okay. Thanks!
About 30 minutes later, my mom's friend showed up at the Shyann. She took us home, and my mom never said a word about it. That night I was thankful for my "cool" mom.
6 comments:
I can't even begin to describe the death and destruction that would have befallen me had I been in that same "sitch-e-ation."
Death would have been too easy.
Thanks for sharing today!
I'm sorry about the passing of your mom. It sounds like she always had your back.
Sounds like she was pretty great! I think most teenagers hate the way their parents act at some point, whether they are the over strict type or the be your friend type, or whatever. I am actually more the strict type, even though I was 19 when I had my daughter. I know the crap I got into, and that it mostly came from not being supervised, but she does know she can call me if she's ever stranded or gets into trouble. ;P
What a cool mom you had!
My mom would've come to get me, but there would've been a lecture the next day. Potentially more if I was obviously wasted. LOL!
Glad you did this Memoir Monday. I'm sure it's hard missing your mom....
Oh, I think that my parents would have KILLED me. I still remember my dad's words of warning when I hit my teenage-years: "If you ever get arrested and end up in jail, don't waste your one phone call on me."
I'm with Erin. My mom would have come to get me, but I do not think that I would have been able to sit on my derriere for a week after. Just sayin!
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