I grew up in Detroit until the age of 13. It's not the best place to spend your childhood. With the multiple drug houses in the area, the gang fights in school yards, the constant barrage of arson on vacant houses, and gun shots as common as dogs barking. It was a decision to live on Bentler made by my mom. She raised me on the back of poor decisions rooted in immaturity. From hiring a babysitter that unfortunately did some inappropriate things, to swinging the complete other side of the pendulum and leaving an 8 year old boy home alone for hours on end. I was even a tag-along for one of her break-up revenge attacks on some guy's car at his workplace. None of these things are usually associated with a Mom-of-the-year mom, and I could easily dedicate an entire post pointing out all the times where good parenting practices were left to the wayside, but I'm not going to do that. Instead I'm going to share with you how my Mom, my Hero, is "Super."
 |
My entire life, I remember my Mom as a sub-100 pound figure best illustrated by drawing a stick figure with an ultra fine tip pen. When looking at her from a distance, one would not conclude that she is capable of performing some of the feats of strength she had in fact completed. Maternal instinct of a mother can instill a rage that allows a mouse to wrestle with, and beat, a lion. And my Mom learned how to harness this surge of adrenaline whenever anyone's child was in danger. |
I recall a time when the neighbor couple began to argue loudly enough that we could all hear them. With children in the front yard, my mom was concerned, observing from a distance, stewing. But when the man (and father) came out onto the porch with a shotgun and started waving it around, Mom went ballistic. Like the flash, she was in our yard in one instant, and the next she was standing between the arguing couple. Now starring down the barrel of a shotgun, she grabbed the barrel and pushed it toward the direction of safety and no children, then started yelling at the man for endangering his kids, and all the kids nearby. With a ferociousness only compared to a rabid dog foaming at the mouth, her words snuffed his yelling and he retreated to his home. Sure, when she came back into our yard, she wasn't the flash, but she was shaking quick enough to break the sound barrier with her hand! She ended up throwing up, but she put her life on the line for the safety of others. |  |
 |
Being Detroit, there are always times when a fight could break out, and kids were not exempt. One time I was trying to catch up to Mom as she was walking to the store, some kids decided to surround me and pick on me. Mom came back to my rescue and stood between me and their "top dog." Wielding a piece of re-bar like a baseball bat, this kid charges his 95lb opponent and takes a mighty swing at my Mom. With a bare hand she catches the re-bar in mid swing, and with her other hand reaches out to this kid almost as tall as her. As if she were Bat-Man, she gripped this little joker's shirt, she pulled him in close and lifted him off the ground. Then she began schooling this kid verbally. Words I cannot repeat. At that time a passerby in a car stopped and yelled at my mom "You better not hurt that kid with that pipe!" A brief silence occurred, like in a horror movie, my mom's head turned slowly and she flipped out; "Hit HIM? He was trying to hit ME!" And they simply rolled up their window and drove off! When she finally released the kid from his inescapable detention, all of them scurried away like bugs under a rock. |
My mom was also a master of weapons. Not the kind ninja's wield, but of the lesser variety. She could spay or neuter a fly in mid flight with a fly swatter. We used to play with the swatters in little fights. I would show up to school with little lines across my forearm, battle scars of trying to best my mom in her own game. She could strike with such precision, and consistency, that I could end up with only one mark, having been hit a dozen times. If you ever wanted to fight mom, don't pick a fly swatter. But she is not a wonder woman with only one weapon, no. She could get you across the room with the same accuracy as a sniper, using only a newspaper rubber-band. While I had become quite proficient with this art as well, I could not begin to achieve the level of competence equal to her rubber-band shooting skills. Together we learned how to dual wield, and even able to stage multiple shots off one hand, like a semi-automatic. We would turn our house into a close-quarters combat zone, and ruber-bands could be found in every crevice for weeks. I would have war marks across my face just from peaking around the corner. |  |
|
Mom also had a heart. Sure, we were poor, well below the poverty line for the 80's. But that didn't stop mom from extending help to anyone who needed it, including animals. There was a time when we discovered the neighbors had left their 5 year old daughter home alone for the entire weekend! She was starving, and Mom didn't hesitate to cook her eggs and toast, and a complimentary glass of milk. I sat there with that little girl, eating my eggs as well, and she politely said thank you, and cleaned every crumb off the plate. She didn't have to feed the neighbor's kids, but rather than try to cause more trouble, she fixed the immediate need first and loved on this little girl.
As I said before, animals were no exception to her generosity. We were frequently a "Hotel for Dogs" but all animals were welcome. My favorite was a dog we named "George." He was a pit bull that happened into Mom's care by accident. She opened the front door for some reason, and in comes this black and white pit bull. George waltzed into the kitchen, sat down, and instantly became a part of our family. My Dad would bounce the ball for him, but something was messed up in his head, he wouldn't track the ball. Instead he would react to the sound of the ball hitting the ground, but when he looked down, the ball had rebounded to a height well over his head. We all laughed at that.
But she also dedicated her time to rehabilitating these animals. One instance strongly in my mind is of a scrawny mutt so malnourished you could put your fingers between his ribs. Mom discovered the canine's collar was so tight this dog couldn't even drink water. it took her a long time, but once the collar was cut off, that dog drank an entire bowl of water, then moved on to start gorging himself with food. After a few weeks, he was healthy again. |
You wouldn't think it, but Mom even had her day on two wheels! I tell you there is nothing more cool than having your mom pick you up from elementary school on a motorcycle!!!
We used to put $3 in the tank, pick a road, and take it to the end, just for the scenic adventure. But my mom, shorter than 5'6" couldn't reach the ground while at a stand still. The bike would lean over and she would have to shift her rear towards the longer leg so she could catch the bike before it fell over. Like watching a little 8 year old girl ride a 10 speed mens bike. If the bike were to fall over, she was not strong enough to stand it back up and would have to ask a stranger for assistance.
One notable occasion was when Grandma was dropping me off at home just about the time Mom was arriving on her chopper (at least it looked like it with her small frame). Because she needed to use the curb to stand up at a stop, and Grandma had taken her "landing pad" she had to pass the house and circle back on the sidewalk. That's when she suddenly, without warning, switched to Evil Knievel mode and and popped a wheelie, spun the bike to the left, and held on like a cowboy riding a bull. Her small stature was no match for the centrifugal forces at play and she was launched from the bull in under the 8 second time frame. However, she wasn't flung far enough to land at a safe distance and the bike, now riderless, spun around on the ground and trapped her leg, pinning it to the sidewalk. The throttle cable had become stretched during the tight left hand turn and was locked wide open. Still resting on her leg, the engine roared with all it's horses, spinning the back wheel as if the hero were to be cut in half by a table saw. Grandma and I quickly tended to her, but our three combined muscles were not able to overcome the gravity which held the bike firmly on the sidewalk. That's when I remembered to turn the bike off. Once quiet, Mom looked up at me through the opening in her helmet and said "Hello!" |
|
Throughout my entire life, my Mom has ensured I always ate, and was always loved, even if I wasn't always taken care of. She did her best with what she knew. At my wedding reception, my Mom and I had a chance to sit in private while the bride changed out of her dress. I remember her breaking down crying saying she was sorry for being such a bad mother. I told her I learned a lot from her, and I wouldn't trade my experiences with her for any other mother. Sure she never would have won the Mother of the year award, but every year I am awarded the mother of a lifetime.
Now my mom's life decisions are catching up to her. Her frail body no longer able to endure the punishments of being a super hero. I pray she recovers fully, albeit selfishly, so I don't have to see my hero retire. But all things come to an end, and mom's cape must now be hung above the mantle of life, as a remembrance to those she cared over. For the hero must rest, and now needs the assistance of those who call her Hero.
I love you Mom, my Hero, my Super Mom!
Jon
</rant>
|
No comments:
Post a Comment