Pfunksfoolosophy

My Marmy (as I call her) turns 68 today. It’s hard for me to think of my mother as being a senior citizen. She’s not an old lady, but she’s an old lady, you know? To me, she’ll always be the silly, funny, insightful, warm person who likes to imitate Long Duk Dong from ‘Sixteen Candles’. That’s right. My mom will say, ‘automobeeeeeeel?’ every now and again. She’ll say, ‘No more yankee my wankee, the Donguh needs FOOD!’ Yep, she’s a senior, but she’s also my best friend.

I remember when I first moved to California and I was broke, disgusted and feeling sorrier for myself than I ever thought I could. I remarked to her that I even felt bad for her because she had such  a loser for a kid. She sighed and said, ‘Have I ever compared you to anyone else? Have I ever wanted you to conform to society’s standards? NO. I have only wanted you to be happy and productive as a human being.’

That made me think. You know, most of her friends have married kids who are in the rat race, who may be materially wealthy, but aren’t necessarily happy individuals. I don’t think that poverty makes you happy, or that the wealthy are going to hell in a handbasket but I got what Mom was trying to tell me. She’s always wanted my happiness to come first. She’s always supported my dreams.  She gave me roots and wings and never got in the way. Mom would let me stay up to watch old movies and let me go to school late because I had a ‘Doris  Day/Rock Hudson’ hangover. We watched ‘Imitiation of Life’ and cried together even though we’d seen that movie hundreds of times.

Even today, my Marmy still calls me ‘Dirtybird’ or ‘Poopie’. I’m no spring chicken. I’m still her baby and she’s still my Marmy. I love her more than space.

I know that she knows that. I’m joyous that I can celebrate my mom’s 68 years on this rock. A lot of those years have been superfantastic and a lot of ‘em have been filled with pain, but she’s still here and I am blessed.

Happy birthday, Marmy!

This entry was posted on Tuesday, June 26th, 2007 at 12:32 pm and is filed under Life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.