Memories of Mom - The Coffee Pot

"Come over quick....the coffee came out good."

My mother had an old coffee maker that she claimed could
make good or bad coffee. It was one of those old stainless
steel percolators that had a two-prong cable that plugged
into the wall. Straight power - no fooling around in the old
days.

This pot created all kinds of havoc, because my mother
lived in fear of "what it might do". More than once, we'd
be driving from her apartment down to visit a friend on
Cape Cod (about 100 miles) and halfway there she would
freak out and insist she had left the coffee pot plugged in
and we would have to turn around and go back to unplug
it "or there will be a fire". I can't recall a single time that
we found it plugged in. "Sorry", she'd say, "but I can't
risk burning the place down". "Why not?", I'd ask.
"It's not like you'd be there". For some reason, she
didn't think that was funny. Go figure.

But the best part was how we would have to "come over
right away" if the coffee "came out good". I guess she
thought we wouldn't visit unless there was a better
reason than just visiting. As if we were thinking, "Oh,
no, I don't want to go there....but wait....she has coffee.
Can't get THAT anywhere else. We'd better go!"
Right.

After my mother passed away, I "inherited" the old
coffee pot. I tried to find out just how old it was -
I e-mailed the company that made it, providing them
with the model number. Their response was, "Our
records don't go back that far."

And the kicker is - we CANNOT make a bad pot of coffee
with this thing. It's impossible. Which can mean only
one thing - the "good coffee" WAS nothing but a ploy!
Couldn't she have just asked us to come over?

No. For some reason, this kind of trickery was the norm
for my mother. Everything had to be something
else. No one is quite sure why, but as soon as she
heard anything, she immediately started formulating
an alternate reality for whatever it was. Nothing
could just "be". There had to be an alternative motive.
Perhaps it had to do with who her parents were/weren't
(mentioned in a previous post) - she may have grown
up with deception as the norm and couldn't shake it.

Although she DID seem to enjoy it. She would change a
story to suit her needs and from that point on there
would be no evidence that could convince her of
anything but her own "reality". One of these days
I'll laundry-list some of the fun "facts" she worked
up. That should be a lovely stroll down Memory Lane!

Anyway - I have to go now. The coffee came out good.

Cram It!

No, this is not a political rant....

I got a call to fill in for the bass player of a Meters cover
band. I have about a week and a half to learn all their
material. There will be only one rehearsal to go over
the arrangements. So for the foreseeable future, if
you're anywhere near me you'll hear the Meters
in the background.

It's not as scary as it could be - I love the Meters and
I'm familiar with most of their material....I just haven't
ever sat down to learn about 99% of it. Well, no more.
I'm stuffing my head with it even now.

The gig is at a place that claims it is a "first-class establishment"
though from the pay you wouldn't know it. Oh, well, sometimes
you've got to just do something because it's fun. Like
learn the bass parts for 30 songs in a week and a half.
No charts, no net....just go for it. Woo hoo!

Speaking of cramming it (in a different sense), I had my
home oil burner cleaned the other day. The maintenance
guy was complaining that all the warm weather here in
the northeast was "killing the business" (boo hoo, waah,
cram it, pal!!). The guy made a soot-and-oil mess of my
basement floor ("It couldn't be helped", he claimed), so
today *I* had to mop it all up. Who knew Dawn dish liquid
was so good at getting up oil? Is this the stuff they use
on Alaskan birds after the drunken tanker captains are
through with them?

What else got crammed this week? Let's see....oh yeah,
a new kitchen vent, into the side of the house.
We've only needed one for five years but this year the
birds REALLY tore the old one out of the house, so it
had to be done. I bought a style that has no
place for the little bastards to land. Take that, you
avian vandals!! "Tweet tweet", my ass.

What else is going on.....Celtics game tonight, music
photo shoot tomorrow (though I try to tell them that
my image won't help sell anything!), acoustic duo
gig on Saturday. Nothing much to cram there,
so I guess I've exhausted the topic.

Later.

Memories of Mom - Birthday

Today would have been my mom's 74th birthday. Or 73rd.
Or 75th. It all depends on who/what we choose to believe.
I personally saw two different birth certificates, and
when my mom first knew she was terminally ill she offered
up yet a third birth year "for accuracy".

She was, like many in that era, born at home rather than
in a hospital - supposedly. Her parents died when she was
young - supposedly. The funny part was, any time I
ever asked what exactly they died from, the answer was
only "they were very sick". All of my "aunts" told this
same vague story, but always in an "...oh....yeah, that's
it...." kind of way.

Over the years, there were suspicions from some of my
cousins that my "Aunt" Mary was actually my mother's
birthmother. That would have explained a few things,
like: my mother and my "cousin" Bill looked like
brother and sister; my "Aunt" doted on me and my
brother more than her other "nephews"; and over
and over again, my mother would accidentally refer
to my "cousin" Bill as "your uncle Bill". Hmmm....

Well, "Aunt" Mary was more than 20 years older
than my mother. I mean, it could happen - supposedly.

It wasn't until I was in my 20s that my "Aunt" admitted
to having been previously married "to a Jewish fellow".
Something tells me this was something of an issue in the
1930s, considering my mother's family was of Irish
descent. Of course, it might have been better for me
if she hadn't decided to make the admission over dinner
with my (Jewish) girlfriend: "Oh, you're Jewish? You
know, I was once married to a Jewish fellow". Very
smooth dinner conversation. I've often wondered why
old people always seem to go there when they meet
someone - "What kind of name is that? Which religion
is that?" .....honestly, who cares? Well, OK, some
people care TOO much, I guess. I know that same
girlfriend's grandmother wasn't very fond of my
family name - "That's Italian....[and with sneering
emphasis].... Catholic". I suppose it didn't help
my case when I said, "I'm not religious". Heh.

Anyway.....

Getting off-topic. Happy Birthday, Mom, whichever
one it would have been.

Facing Toilets and Fashion Model Molars

During the holidays, Mrs. L and I were both infected with the
virus that has been making the rounds in these parts. It has
the 'pleasant' effect of tethering you to the bathroom but
refuses to tell your brain which part of your body to point at
the toilet until the instant of evacuation. Sound like fun?
We had quite a week around here. Fortunately, Master L
seems to have been spared....knock wood.

This renewed my interest in designing a special "sick room"
that would have two toilets facing each other. Maybe one
BIG toilet with dual entry points, I don't know.
Sound-proofing would help buffer the lovely audio that
goes along with diarrhea and vomiting, so the unafflicted
could rest as well.....

Forget it - this is probably too expensive to set up.

Anyway, one good thing was that I remembered to rinse
thoroughly after each barf so I wouldn't end up with
"Fashion Model Molars".

And that's all I have to say about that.

Happy New Year 2007

Hope yours was stylish.....