My mother is a retired Ohio school teacher, and, before I dial her number each evening for our regular-as-clockwork phone conversations, I often feel like I need to do my homework.
To be specific, Mom, who is now in her 80’s, taught vocal music, and the homework I speak of isn’t that I should study up on the history of Bach’s choral works, or perhaps get into a talk-with-Mom frame of mind by listening to a CD of the King’s College Choir of London performing a piece by John Rutter.
No, my homework (at this time of year) is that I should probably get on the web and see what Mom’s beloved Cleveland Indians are doing (the team is referred to as “The Tribe,” in Northern Ohio parlance.) If I am calling during the winter months, heaven forbid I should dial Mom during overtime of a Cleveland Cavaliers basketball game.
Because this is Mother’s Day weekend, I thought I’d post the image you see here today, one I did recently of my mom’s favorite flower, the calla lily. Next month I’ll go visit my mother and during my stay at her house I’ll shower in a bathroom that has calla lily wall paper and eat meals on calla lily plates at a table decorated with a calla lily table cloth.
When we talk on the phone, Mom tells me again and again how much fun we’ll have during my visit. I go see Mom at least twice a year, always with the intention of doing fixit jobs around her house, but the scenario is invariably the same: She’ll take the shovel or hammer out of my hand, give me a glass of lemonade, and tell me to sit down with her and listen to good music. She'll remind me that the Oberlin College Conservatory of Music is nearby. Mom will insist that I've worked enough for the day and suggest that we go to a concert.
Of course we’ll also watch baseball, lots of baseball. Mom’s already bought us tickets to an Indians game.
Thirty-five-years ago when my dad died, you see, Mom started paying attention to sports -- I suspect because my brother, sister and I were fans, and perhaps Mom felt she needed to take up a bit of the role a father normally plays -- and today my Mother’s fandom far exceeds that of her kids. Two weeks ago when The Tribe was out here to play Seattle’s Mariners -- the game didn’t even start till 10:05 PM Ohio time -- Mom was glued to her television set, watching every pitch and at-bat. I watched too, though about 8:30 my time (11:30 in Ohio) I was tired and went to bed...knowing my night-owl Mom could tell me the final score when we talked the next day.
Mom also knows the nicknames of the athletes on the Cleveland sports teams, and it makes me giggle to hear my sweet, senior citizen mother refer to one basketball player, not by his first name (Anderson,) or even his last name (Varejao,) but rather Mom, like other true Cleveland fans, calls him “Wild Thing.”
