A Day Late. . .

I couldn't think of anything memorable to write yesterday. So I thought I would write this today. My Mother recorded this song on an early (1940's) self-recording contraption. The booth was usually in a Dime Store or Drug Store. It was a very small, flimsy 78 rpm that seemed to go by in a second or two. But it did have the whole song on it. I remember playing it on a tiny portable phonograph when we lived in a flat on Lafayette. I also remember asking Mom to "play your record" at Winona. Unfortunately, we lost track of it after the move to Tholozan. So, read (or sing along) to one of my Mother's favorite songs:

Somebody loves me, I wonder who

I wonder who he can be

Somebody needs me, I wish I knew

Who he can be worries me.

Every guy who passes by, I shout,

"Hey maybe you were meant to be my lovin' baby"

Somebody loves me, I wonder who

Maybe it's you.

Miss you quite a bit.

Thinking

I was thinking about my brother, Neil, this morning because it is his birthday. I went outside to scan the sky over Grain Valley, wanting to catch a glimpse of one shooting star. There are always reports that the event is a meteor shower....I never see a shower; actually, I never see one.

After Neil died, I knew I would never hear his distinctive voice or laugh again. But perhaps Neil and my Dad will have bar-be-que ribs waiting for us at the Pearly Gates. I also thought there never would be a person who could hug the way he did.

But, I was wrong. Lynne and her boys were in St. Louis visiting, as we were, a few years ago. Goodbyes began as they were leaving a restaurant. The Texans were leaving first because they had a plane to catch.We all lined up for kisses and hugs. I went to hug Joey and was enveloped in a gigantic hug. It was all-encompassing and the winter coat made it even better. As we hugged he all but picked me up and swished me from side to side. I knew right then that Neil's hug had not gone with him. It was alive and well and living in the heart and soul of his son, Joey. Long may he hug.

Swimmingly

Record-breaking summer temperatures have made me think of swimming at the Riviera Swimming Pool. The automobile trip to the pool seemed to take forever; although, I imagine the trip today is within the "metro area" in St. Louis.

Long before Riviera, there was the Maplewood Pool and Frankie's Twin Pools. And on Lemay Ferry there was the Capri, where I spent many summer days with Aunt Rita and her sons. But the Riviera was the gem of South County Pools. Huge. And the changing rooms--open to the air above and individual showers.

Both of my daughters were in swimming lessons from the time they were babies. They both earned Red Cross certification; however, Sally had to work extra hard on diving--she preferred

jumping feet first. I learned to swim from my cousin Bruce. Looking back, he must have been the most patient of teachers. It was hard for me to work my arms and legs at the same time.

We began by standing in the pool, only waist deep, so he could get my arms moving one at a time, making nice round pulls through the water and touching one outstretched hand with the other before making the next arm pull through the water. It all sounds very logical now, but back then it was difficult. Later, he added coming up for air. And then, legs moving up and down. I don't remember him teaching any of my siblings but they all know how to swim.

When I was little, I always wanted my Dad to "take me to the ropes" where the shallow side met the deep side. Later, I remember taking my brothers to the ropes. Neil loved jumping into the shallow water, getting out and immediately jumping back in. He used to do it tirelessly and endlessly.

Ezra and Levi have taken lessons, but they have learned to be little fish thanks to Grandma Jo's

pool. John and Tyson taught Ezra to do cannonballs a few years ago. This year, of course, Levi

has joined that long line of Whitaker Cannonballers.

Swimming with Aunt Rita at the Capri was always a challenge. It was our duty to make sure there was always four little brown-haired heads bobbing around near us. Frankie's Twin Pools was great-- two pools, side by side -- need I say more. If you wanted, you could dive simultaneously with a friend. Also, I remember going to Frankie's one time with Kathy Fox. We went with her Dad, Elmer, just the two of us, no brothers or sisters. It started to look like rain, and we thought they would close the pool. Then it started to rain, and still they didn't close the pool. We were in heaven, swimming and diving in the rain. And then came the lightning and thunder. They closed the pool. The Maplewood Swimming Pool was a sleazy concrete thing, and the dressing area was dark and dank. We didn't go there after the county pools started popping up.

By the time we were in high school, we went to the pools with girlfriends and even boyfriends.

Kathy and Maureen Fox, Kathy and Diane Belgeri, and my sister Diane. Mark Schrodt used to go with us, sometimes even with my family. He was going through his Jerry Lewis phase one summer and would shout to my Mother, "Hey Laay-dee." Not so awful unless I add that he

was standing on the high dive, waving madly to Mary Fran, who sitting at the shallow end!

Later, when he was going through his Pearl Bailey phase, he would stand on the bridge, in

Clifton Park, and sing torch songs.

Other great swimming memories include the CYC summer swimming parties. I'll save that for another day.

Happy Birthday Mom

Last year around this time, February 27, we were all gathered in St. Louis for my Mother's

87th Birthday. My Mom's and my daughter Sally's Birthdays were often celebrated together

in St. Louis. On Sally's Birthday this year, she was a little melancholy remembering that last

year was Grandma Mary's final birthday.

She often told my girl's, when they were younger, she planned to live to be 100. A task she

almost accomplished. There were so many times in the last ten years or so, that she made

what was referred to as "another miraculous recovery." To name a few: she had an awful

time after her hip replacement, not from the new hip, but what we supposed, to the anesthesia.

She had on onset of extremely low blood pressure and appeared to be knocking on Heaven's

Gate, but it turned out to be a round trip instead of one way only.

The last "miraculous recovery" occurred in September of last year, when she suffered a

stroke. It was suspected that her speech would not be very good and she might have suffered

some paralysis. But within a few days, neither disability was permanent. While she was

still in the ICU, my sister, Diane, called me and told me about the progress she was making.

I was overjoyed, but after Diane gave the phone to her and I said the usual, "Hi Mom"

stuff, she answered, but in a gibberish way. My heart dropped. Obviously, Diane had given

me the rosy report to bolster my Mom's ego. She really had lost her ability to speak. I

remember thinking, I wonder if the paralysis is really gone? We exchanged a few more

sentences in her heartbreakingly mixed up language. I asked to speak to my sister and Mom

made a few more grunts. When Diane began to speak, I thought she was crying. Actually,

she was laughing. My Mother was only pretended to have a speech problem to play a joke

on me.

Last April 1 first, in an evening phone call, I asked her if she was able to pull off an "April

Fool" joke on anyone. She told me she did two. That was great. Mainly I was impressed

that she remembered the date. I asked her what she had done. Well, she said, when the

aide came to take her vitals, she held her breath so the girl would think she was dead. When

the aide bent over, with her face close to Mom, she opened her eyes and said "April Fools"

When asked about the second prank, she said, "I really got your sister." Turns out Mom

had made a telephone call to Diane and told her she was going to have to stay with Diane

and Ed for two, or maybe even three, months because the nursing home was going to make

huge improvements and all the residents had to find their own housing during the restoration

time. Mom said there was dead silence on the other side of the line. Finally, after several

seconds, my Sister said "Oh."

When I asked my sister about it later, she said yes, she was speechless because Mom, who

periodically asked my sister if she could live with them, sounded so convincing. Usually,

Mom would periodically asked Diane if she could stay with them. It was usually asked during

one of her Sundays she spent with them. Diane said she was ready for those requests but was

completely unprepared for the phone conversation.

So my Mom won't be celebrating her 88 th Birthday with us on February 27, 2011, but she left

us with so many memories, some slight everyday memories, and some amazing ones. We can

think of her for years to come and never run out of those memories, from Aunt Rita's stories

of the old days, to Levi and Ezra, both of whom called her GiGi. Ezra's best memories, I

think, were riding around on her lap in her wheel chair and as he got older, pushing the

wheel chair himself. He was also fond of eating her pie or pudding when we were visiting

in the Dining Room. The servers made sure he never ran out of Cool Whip. I don't know

if Levi will remember Gigi, since he is only 3, but I'm sure we will tell him about the

good times we had with his Great Grandma Mary.

Happy Birthday Mom.