My Mom is the Coolest

My earliest memories of my mom are faint at best. Most early memories come from photographs and slides. Though my parents were young and didn’t have a lot of extra income, early photos show mom always had me dressed to the nines with not a hair out of place. I was the first child, first grandchild, and slides show, especially at Christmas, I got everything a child could imagine.

As I’ve reflected on writing this blog about mom’s celebration of 80 years, my first memories involve a backyard whiffle ball game in our Green Valley neighborhood. I think I was six or seven. A handful of guys had gathered and mom joined the game. She was competitive, made us laugh, and for a 26 or 27 old girl, she was a good player. What sticks out about that moment was what happened the next morning when getting on the school bus. The guys were all saying, “you have the coolest mom.”

That stuck with me. In fact, it’s a moment that has become an anchoring part of my life.  I’ve pretty much lived most of my life feeling I had the coolest mom. Though mom and dad weren’t rich, mom made sure we lived a fun filled life and had what we needed. We would go to garage sales, bargain shop, and spend days at Papaw and Mamaw’s.

We rode bikes, did crafts, and played games, especially the newest rage at the time, Atari. I would often come home from school and she would say, “go look at the screen.” While I was at school, she had played one of my latest games and broke my record. She has always been incredibly competitive. She was more than just my mom; she was my friend. Her rules were few. Tell her where I was going. Come home when I was hungry. Dinner was at 5. It’s funny, but as I look back at Mary and I’s parenting, much of what mom gave me I’ve put in our family.

One of the attributes mom put in our life was a love for music. Our home was always filled with it. Albums and 8-tracks playing the Rambo’s, Goodman’s and the Calvary Four and Brass still echo in my mind. Mom taught herself how to play the piano. She tells the story of how the church they attended needed a piano player and she set on a piano bench and prayed she could play. Within weeks she did. No lessons, just her, a piano, and a miracle. Dad bought her a grand piano and an organ and that meant even more music filled our home. Mom played for many churches, services, choirs, and even taught piano professionally.

It’s odd but mishaps are a part of my memories of mom. I recollect a day when I was around 10 years old and we were riding bikes. She had Julie, my sister who was 2, in a bike seat, and we were “racing” around the block. As I passed her, I clipped her front tire and flipped her bike. I’ll never forget watching Julie flying through the air, landing in the grass, and then seeing mom holding her arm and crying. The fall had broken her arm.

Coming off the injury, it was just a year or so later she took us sledding at our local park, Forest Park in Noblesville. Sledding, along with ice skating, was something she loved to do. On this day though, she was going fast, hit a bump, landed wrong, and broke her tailbone. It was a long winter, but we had a cool story about our mom. Whose mom breaks their tailbone sledding? My mom.

Perhaps the fondest mishap was the best. Mom has an avid love for swimming and suntanning. At some point in her early thirties, she decided she wanted a pool in the back yard. Dad, who didn’t like to swim, had a myriad of reasons of why she couldn’t have a pool. Though their finances had improved, he used that as an excuse, along with, “we have a well and I can’t find the pump.” Assured they could afford it, mom had one objection to overcome, find the pump to the well.

Shovel in hand, me as her trusty sidekick and advocate for a pool, the exploration began. She sent me under the house. My mission as a 12-year-old. Find any pipe that looked like a water pipe and give her an approximate location. I found one and the digging began. We soon found the pipe and seemed to be getting close when she asked me to put my head down in the hole to see if I could see anything. Head in the hole, the last words I heard was, “let me give it one more shovel.” Down went the shovel and up came the water, as in an Old Faithful explosion. Water and mud went everywhere and then a straight water geyser shooting 10’ in the sky. Dad wasn’t home and it seemed to take forever before a neighbor could get over to shut off the main water source. We didn’t have water for a few days, but six months later we had a pool.

That pool would provide most of my teenage memories. We were in the pool nearly every day. We played Yahtzee and cards in the pool. We ate lunch in the pool. Neighborhood friends would join us in hours of diving, playing Marco Polo, and water basketball ensued. My mom was once again the coolest mom, providing snacks and crazy pool stunts to try.

When I graduated from high school, I was 18 and mom was 37. During college days and after work golf became my way of passing time. Not to be left out, mom wanted to learn to play. It wasn’t long before she had her own clubs, knew all the rules, and was golfing regularly with friends.

It was also during my college days that I became quite successful as an electronics salesman at JC Penney. I did so well that I could afford to buy the car of my dreams, a manual shift, smoke black, Mazda RX-7. Within a few days she wanted to learn to drive it and about a year later she had her own brown RX-7. Whose mom drove a rad sports car? My mom.

Mom wasn’t only a successful mom but also an incredibly gifted realtor. She had an eye for style, a way to connect with people, and a great business sense. Her competitive nature took her to the top of her profession. She was often one of the top realtors at the FC Tucker company, one of the largest in the state of Indiana. This income bonus gave her and dad the ability to travel, another one of her favorite things to do. They traveled the world, though I think if it was up to her, she would have taken every vacation on a beach on a tropical island.

Once Mary came into my life and we added kids, mom kept her coolness. No one had a better grandma (Nonna) than Gentry and Risa. Rules were similar for them, basically updated and improved from what I had as a kid. Spoil them and send them home. Give them all the junk food they wanted. Have unlimited fun. And, what happens / happened at Nona’s stayed at Nonna’s. Needless to say, there were many days that our kids cried not wanting to leave. Not only was she a cool mom, she was a cool Nonna.

I imagine that many reading this have elderly moms who like clothes, books, or maybe something for their kitchen for a birthday or Christmas gift. Not my mom. In her sixties she wanted the latest computer, flash drives, and the best photo editing software. In her seventies she wanted Wi-Fi cameras, Bluetooth headphones, and any of the latest gadgets. As she turns 80, I suspect she has something she’s seen that I haven’t on her list. She may be old but she is still up on the trends.

Finally, mom has been such a support of our dreams. As we began the journey as pastors at Life Connections we had no bigger fan. She became affectionately known as the unofficial “Assistant Pastor.” She took care of historical recordings, kept attendance records, and helping anyone who asked or didn’t. She made every event. She ran the E-Group senior ministry, was heavily involved in prayer, and was a part of every community event. She invested in us and believed in our calling,

Most people met mom and knew everything about the church before I had even had an opportunity to shake their hand. I don’t know how many times I heard, “we met your mom, she’s something else.” I didn’t always know if that was a good thing or bad. I decided to take it in the same way I way I took what the kids on the bus said when I was six, “your mom is really cool.” It was safer that way, allowed me to have peace of mind, and sleep at night.

Today, as she turns 80, she still loves gadgets, playing games (and cheating…she’s known for that) and still has a zeal for life. Her life is changing though. She survived a heart attack, though she would argue and say she didn’t have one. She doesn’t ride her bike any more. She fell off her bike when she was 75. She spends more time in doctor offices than on the beach. The grands, both Julie and Sam’s and ours, are very grateful she doesn’t do photos edits any more. Life is slower and she is a tad more reflective. That said, there’s one thing all her family would say that hasn’t changed, she is still the coolest mom, Nonna, and great-Nonna ever. Happy 80th mom. May there be many more.

PIckleball Problems!

Who knew!  One of my new favorite sports, pickleball, is making news, and it seems some have a vendetta against it. If you are not aware, pickleball is a hybrid between ping pong, badminton, and tennis. The court is larger than a ping pong table but smaller than a tennis court, and you use wood, plastic, or fiberglass paddles with what is basically a wiffle ball. Our family has been hooked for a couple of years, bought the equipment, and we love to get out on nice Indiana evenings and play a few games. The sport, which until recently had been a niche, began to gain momentum around 2020 with an estimated four million players. It has exploded with new estimates suggesting that over 23 million people are playing pickleball, a 150% increase in three years. If you’re a player, this explains why it’s become so difficult to find a court! But some of the news of late is not good, there are those who are right down irate about pickleball.

First, I was reading a report on noise pollution and how it is increasing in major cities and suburbs. Reading the list of noise complaints, I wasn’t surprised by the obvious factors, noises such as loud neighbors, barking dogs, and car alarms. It also listed the volume of traffic and accidents, but then came this, the number of outdoor pickleball courts and players. I was shocked! Pickleball, a noise pollution issue? It is a problem, and some people are seriously annoyed. The internet is filled with articles with people fuming and groups with disdain for pickleball. Communities are writing ordinances, neighborhood HOA’s are setting policies, and there are loads of websites suggesting how to curb the noise created by pickle ballers. They want noiseless pickleballs, carbon fiber or padded paddles, sound panels around the courts, and restricted pickleball hours. These people are serious, and they are radically charged about stopping pickleball noise.

The second issue, and one that is a bit disturbing if you are a pickleball player, has to do with the healthcare industry. It seems that pickleball injuries are creating an extraordinary amount of financial drain on insurance companies. One company, United Health, recently reported a higher-than-expected frequency of hip replacements, knee surgeries, and other procedures and believes many injuries are due to pickleball. One company is projecting that pickleball injuries are going to cost healthcare companies between 250 and 500 million dollars in 2023 alone. I am afraid they won’t let this continue. Can you see it coming? Name, address, email, do you smoke, do you drink, and do you play pickleball? Oh, you play pickleball, there will be a 25% fee added to your policy.

I say enjoy the sport. Exercise is good, good for the body and good for the mind. Being with friends and family, having fun and laughing, is as good as the exercise. If you don’t play, pick up some paddles, a couple of pickleballs, and get to a court. Do so wisely and considerately. Warm up, stretch before you play and if you play in an area where there is housing, be thoughtful. Finally, be watchful of trash talkers, most often they’re all bluff with no stuff, and watch out for ambidextrous players, they change the way you play the game.