Here's an unusual way to commemorate Mother's Day:
Being a mother myself I am daring to suggest that we share a memory of our mom that she might not choose to have included in her biography.
In my case, I remember that there were occasions, say when the toast burned, or she discovered she had sewed something together wrong side up, that I'd hear her quietly saying "scheiss". Even though I was quite young at the time, it didn't take me long to figure out what that meant in English. As a matter of fact, to this day I seem to rely on it myself on appropriate occasions. Thanks, Mom.
A gathering place for Kulkas and those who were once Kulkas but due to unfortunate circumstances have had to accept life's curve ball and begin going by some other name.
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When I was in first or second grade or so, mom and dad bought me this thing which was essentially a wooden snow sled with rubber wheels instead of steel runners. The California version of sledding, I guess. Anyway it was called a "Flexible Flyer." Being young, I didn't yet know what "flexible" meant, so I asked and one of the folks explained the word to me.
Shortly after, we were in a shoe store. The business of trying on and selecting shoes was done, and mom was standing at the counter paying for them. Now, being young, things three to four feet off the ground were my standard view. I was behind mom as she was dealing with the cashier. I guess my mind was pondering this new word "flexible" and finding things that fit that description. For whatever reason, I jabbed mom in the butt once or twice then called out from behind her "Hey mom, you have a flexible butt!"
I was too short (and on the wrong side) to have seen her face at the time, but I have a feeling she grew an instant sunburn.
Do you remember that, Sage?
I didn't, but I will from now on.
Waaait a minute. Was that at Barney's, the shoe store near the freeway in San Rafael? Some vague memory is swimming to the surface. As I recall, I did not look around to see if anyone else in the store was seeking to verify your statement. I think I opted to make as dignified an exit as possible.
I was thinking it was at a Buster Brown up on B or C street near the courthouse. But we always bought shoes at Barney's so you're probably right.
I do remember once at Barney's you bought me a pair of shoes, and were writing a check. The clerk asked "Do you have any identification on you?" And so you wrote your name on your hand. I don't think he got it.
Memory is a funny thing. My remembrance of that last one was that I said, pointing to a place on my hand, "Well, I have this scar." I agree - I don't think he got it.
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