No, YOU suck it up Walter Cronkite! Oh, and Happy Mother's Day.

Today is Mother's Day and I'm not a mother (which I'm ok with) and for the first time I don't have a mother (which I am not ok with), but as Walter Cronkite used to say, that's the way it is, although it's a well known fact that men don't need their mothers as much as women do, so what did he know?

In fact, if Walter Cronkite were here right now I would give him a piece of my mind, because where does he get off telling me to suck it up when I miss my Mama and he had millions of adoring fans and all I'm asking for is one short, stubborn, red-haired woman?!

Way to ruin Mother's Day Walter Cronkite. Thanks a lot.

Anyway.

Walter kind of has a point, I guess, so instead of wallowing in self-pity and sadness I will share with you 3 things about Mama.

1. She was a voracious reader and could go through 2 or 3 books in a week. My earliest memories are of the library, crawling around the Children's section looking for Dr. Seuss while she pulled books of the shelf like the library was on fire; always checking out the maximum amount allowed. I stood by in awe with my slim volumes while she held an armload of books that seemed bigger than her.

2. She taught me the importance of looking at things from the other person's point of view. I remember coming home from school and complaining to her about how some kid was mean to me or smelled like pickles and her first response was always to ask why I thought the kid was mean, maybe I had provoked it? Or maybe the pickle kid came from a poor family and couldn't afford non-pickle-smelling soap. I hated then, but it really made an impression on me and I think it has given me more empathy as an adult.

3. She was smart about money and finances. And it was all self-taught. She grew up in age where not much was expected (or allowed) of women, where men handled the money and made the decisions and the women-folk took care of the babies. But she not only had good common sense, she had the financial acumen to make good investments with her hard earned money. She taught me everything I know about money and instilled in me a sense of power over my own future by handling money wisely.

No one loves you like your mama. If yours is still around, hug her good.

Because nothing says Merry Christmas like a yarn octopus

Christmas in our truck is nothing if not festive. Actually, I'm kind of mad at Christmas this year, but whatever. The Spirit of Christmas Octopus is a tradition that must go on.

My mother had a wonderfully absurd sense of humor, so when she saw this, uh holiday octopus, at a garage sale several years ago, she knew she had to have it. Actually she knew she had to give it to me because the thing is hideous and what better way to spread holiday joy than by giving ugly things to your adult child that hates everything?

He was our tree topper that year and the next year, then I wrapped him up and sent him back to her with a story about how the Spirit of Christmas Octopus came to be.  The next year, she sent him to my sister, and so began a tradition of sharing the Spirit of Christmas Octopus. He has logged many miles over the years, his yarn is thinning and he's lost an eye, but not his spirit.

The Spirit of Christmas Octopus on the fuel tank.
He may or may not be trying to huff diesel.

The Spirit of Christmas Octopus as hood ornament.
Freightliner should use this in their ads.

The Spirit of Christmas Octopus on the steering wheel.
Good thing we're parked, his eye is not even looking
at the road.

Jas wanted to kill play with the Spirit of Christmas Octopus.
She hates Christmas. Apparently.

Merry Christmas

 Happy Holidays

 Frohe Weihnachten 

and 

May the Spirit of Christmas Octopus be with you. 

Motherless Child

Last November my mother suffered a stroke and was hospitalized for a month before being moved to a rehabilitation/nursing home. She spent more than two months there before coming home.

For those long months, she was gone to us. Her mind turned against her, she could speak only gibberish, she didn't know her family or herself. She seemed to only know fear and pain.

Gradually she came back. She recognized her husband, even if she could not say his name. The light in her eyes changed and she knew her daughters and even if the words weren't always right, we knew she was back.

She came home to a life changed. She needed more help than before, physically, but the torment that her mind had put her through, even before the stroke, was gone. She didn't have an easy time of it and there were setbacks, but she was calm and seemed more at peace than any time I can remember, especially in these last few years.

A year later, on Thanksgiving, she got out of bed and fell to her knees. Her blood pressure had dropped precipitously and she was taken to the emergency room. Her breathing was labored and they had to put her on a ventilator, the emphysema that was manageable up until then, had caught up with her. She could not breathe on her own. She never left the hospital.

My mother was a planner. Years ago, she made out a living will defining under what circumstances she wished to live. She and I discussed it many times over the years and I know, without a doubt, that we did what she would have wanted. That we didn't make the decision, we only decided not to block her decision.


Still, nothing prepares you. All the planning in the world goes out the window when faced with the end of a life that you love.


We were with her until the end.  She died on November 30.


Mama was not perfect. She didn't have a perfect husband and she didn't have perfect daughters. But she knew, she knows we love her. Knew it all along, even in the difficult times.

I am happy for her that she is no longer struggling, no longer suffering. I'm also comforted, perhaps selfishly, in feeling absolutely certain that she knew she was loved.

What else could matter so much? If you love someone, make them know it.

Life Goes On

Today we are leaving our little comfy nest of home. We will go back to the world of the working people.

But first an explanation. 


This Blog is supposed to be humorous. I share tales of my experiences as a Professional Passenger, but sometimes life gets in the way of humor. My mother, known as Mona in her comments here, had a stroke in November. She spent four weeks in a hospital and now she is in a nursing home. I don't know what the future holds for her. Things are better than a month ago, but that isn't saying a whole lot.


It seemed to me wrong, somehow to write about silly, trivial things while she suffered; while so many things were left unknown. If it weren't so sad, believe me, I could tell incompetent doctor stories of unbelievable stupidity that far surpass the craziest truck driver story. But I'm not.


I find myself feeling guilty for laughing or enjoying life while she can't. And yet Life goes on even in the midst of uncertainty. Life goes on even though my heart aches for my Mama whose body is here while her mind is lost. Life goes on even though all the right words never got said. The world just keeps turning, unaware.


So today I begin again with this silly blog and the day to day adventures of life on the road without my biggest fan being able to share in it. 

The Prettiest Mama in the World