The Mother and Child Reunion.....

I woke up this morning and was treated to breakfast (waffles no less) by Hope and Glo. I don't require much for Mother's Day -- I told Mark to take back the diamonds he had surely bought for the occasion -- except for a break from cooking and cleaning up. I actually enjoy cooking but it's really nice to be the Princess for a change. Once a year, I get to spread out the Sunday papers, have my morning mocha and let someone else cook. Yummy waffles, girls. Thank you.

I forgot to pickup marigolds this week, my annual Mother's Day tribute to my mom. It was not unusual to find Mom in the garden and we had a variety of plants but, for some reason, I remember marigolds. When I catch the scent of marigolds at the nursery, I picture mom with a flat of the puffy little bronze flowers, on her knees in the back yard. I try and pick up a six-pack or two to plant on Mother's Day. This year they'll be a bit late.

My mom, Aggie Limandri, was the youngest of nine kids born to the Goettlichers in Eau Claire, Wisconsin -- five of which had come over from Austria with my grandmother in 1910; I still haven't found the manifest from my grandfather's earlier trip but I haven't given up. My mom and her friends would often take Sunday drives and take pictures of each other in their new outfits. Seems odd but I'm grateful I have so many pictures like these...that's her on the right, cuttin' up with "Beets and Art". Seeing nicknames like "Beets" written in my mom's hand, make me smile every time I go through these pictures. We lost Mom to Alzheimer's a few years ago but Mother's Day is still hers.

GONE FISHIN '

My last post got me thinking about fishing with my dad. First off, the guy on the jetty was wearing a ball cap; my dad had this straw affair, with hooks stuck in the band. That was HIS fishing hat. I dug out this picture which always makes me smile. It is my big sister, Carol and I at the wharf with Dad right about 1964. I'm not sure who took the picture. It may have been Mom since I'm about seven in the picture which would make Katie five and probably too young to take the shot. Maybe we asked a stranger to take the photo... Check out our string of ENORMOUS perch. And check out the fins on that car -- our 59 Fairlane NOT a 500. Even as a kid I knew the difference.

Goin' fishing with Dad meant I got to wear a ponytail. Mom didn't like the way the rubber bands tore at my hair and they didn't make the wrapped ones then. So, this was a big-girl operation of grand proportions in my mind. The picture also brings to mind a day on the wharf when we realized Dad's knotting skills were not what he thought them to be. He took Mom's red rubber bucket to the pier, tied a rope to it and lowered it into the murky depths to collect water for the legion of fish we would surely catch. I still remember hauling up the rope.....with no bucket. Dad was SO in trouble for losing that bucket.

SPARKLING IN THE SAND

This week I took a lunchtime walk on the beach to send birthday greetings to my dad and wish my parents a happy anniversary. Their ashes were scattered off Santa Cruz but I know the currents have carried them up here to enjoy our bay. After 45 years of marriage, I’m sure they’re still out there together. Someone’s dad, or maybe grandpa was fishing off the jetty, reminding me of my dad. He would take us fishing off the SC wharf or occasionally the cement ship in Aptos. But on his own, he would fish from the rocks or in the surf.

I’m missing both my folks these days, the smell of Dad’s pipe filled with Cherry-Blend tobacco, my Mom humming along with Tony Bennett in the kitchen as she prepared dinner. And from her, I got my love of "puttering" in the garden. They would have enjoyed watching the girls grow up. My mom would have made that “ssssssst” sound (accompanied by a very sharp inhale), with a death-grip on the dash as Gloria learns to drive but would have given her a big hug when they made it safely to their destination. Probably would have bought her an ice cream to boot. And Dad would have taken them fishing.