5/12/13
I know a lot of guys my age, and as much as I hate to tattle, there’s always one call that they will screen 99% of the time, a call from their mother. They’ll be talking about something inappropriate or sports-related and the phone rings. They will look down and mercilessly turn the ringer off to carry on with the conversation in peace. “Don’t you wanna answer that?” An unmistakable shake of their head tells you “not a chance.”
In that son’s defense it’s because now really isn’t the time or place to be speaking with his mother, but other times there’s a prejudice there. Maybe you two just talked or maybe it’s a checkup on something you haven’t done yet, either way it will turn into a voicemail of familiar rhythm and content. It’s not long until those voicemails become the dominant race in your voice mailbox demographic. Luckily they all get along, talking about the weather at home and the fact that you should call back and that they love you.
I used to be a call-screening son, but things changed ever since I moved to Portland and took a stab at writing. The very origin of my self-proclaimed status as a wordsmith stems from my mother. She was an English major and is now a very successful freelance writer, so I used to dread handing in school papers for her to edit. It killed me to watch over her shoulder as she obliterated my arguments with her far superior intellect and wit. Since those days I’ve tried my damnedest to catch up with her, maybe submit something she wouldn’t tear apart with a red pen.
Today I cherish each edit that comes from her because she is invaluable to my livelihood. I rue the missed calls and initiate conversation more than she does. All our conversations mention business but always end in chuckles of mother-son banter. Our banter is top of the heap stuff.
When I see some people interact with their mothers, I find myself glad that my mom is who she is. We enjoy each other’s company, and that’s priceless. Speaking of which, I didn’t spend a dime on my mom today.
Hopefully this covers it, Happy Mother’s Day Mom. I love you and I’m proud of you and I’m really lucky to have you. Please call me more often.
PS If you aren’t already friends with Eileen then you’re probably really curious about her, so check out her blog, in laymen’s terms, it’s dope.
