When I was a kid, I adored my mother. She could do no wrong. She was a lot of things to me; none of which she is today to me.
I was an 80's kid, a latchkey kid... A kid that played outside with other kids with no parents around... A kid that went trick or treating without an adult; without a candy surgeon to look for razor blades. I was the kid mom took to bars as she waited tables... the kid, all the single ladies shared a dance with in those bars. I was the kid that collected aluminum cans to help mom pay the bills. I was Jesse James and Superman with a love for Reagan and Alex P. Keeton. I was a good kid albeit, a little mischievous with the pardoxical need to be the center of attention while having a distinct discomfort when I was in the spotlight.
Growing up, I knew nothing about my mom. I remember a few of her boyfriends; like the drug addicted guy that jumped on the hood of our Pontiac as she tried to escape his abuse. Or the deputy of Eager, Arizona who put a gun to her head in front of me and threatened to kill her. Or the guy who once took me fishing and then came to the conclusion, that he wanted a woman without the baggage.
But this really isn't even about me because I had an extraordianry childhood and I turned out just fine. Relatively, speaking.
Ten years ago, mom was trying to buy a house... her first house since the one I grew up in. She called me one afternoon at work with the exciting news. But there was a slight problem... she was a few thousand dollars short of the closing costs.
That night, a friend and I walked into the local casino. I sat down at some slot machine, threw a $100 into it. Two minutes later, I hit the jackpot... $5000. As we were leaving, I walked past this older woman sobbing at a slot machine. Upon closer inspection, I recognized her. It was my mom. She had just blown most of her money she was going to use to buy that house.
Interestingly, I never knew she liked to gamble. But like I said, I never have really known anything about her.
I knew she was compulsive and had an addictive personality because, well, I do. Like mother like son, I suppose.
I'm not the guy that thanks God when my favorite sports team wins and I really don't want to give Him credit for my $5000 jackpot that night. I don't think God enables bad habits through some meaningless word called luck. Let's just say, mom bought that house she always wanted due to a fortunate coincidence.
Ironically, a few years later, she lost that house to the same bad habit that enabled her to buy it.
I look at my mom now through a different set of eyes than those I had as a kid. I think we all do. I don't see Super Woman or that carefree crazy woman that worked 12 hour shifts at local bars and partied immediately after. I don't even see that joy filled person I always wanted to please as a kid.
She's just a shell of who she once was.
Family dynamics fascinate me. This idea that family members stop speaking to other family members confuse me as much as the heartbreaking tales of sons and daughters wallowing in the loss of their now dead parents.
I can't relate to either.
Parents aren't perfect and as they age and as we age, it seems, we get to know and understand them even less.. I liked the world much better from the set of eyes I had as a kid. And I loved living in the belief that my mother could do no wrong.
One thing is for certain and this should be enough for all of us, we didn't choose who are parents are but they damned sure did choose us. And that is and will always be enough for me.
It was a cold and rainy December, just two weeks before Christmas, when mom handed the bank a $5000 check and bought her dream house. She cried. She hugged me. It was probably the second time in my life I had ever seen her cry and it was my first hug from her since I was a kid.
And that was the day, I finally met the mother I remembered as a kid.
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