Calling Card

This is the shit my dad does just to let me know he's been there. It's a calling card, so to speak.

 

Wind-up toys, in this case a pair of parakeets, 

wedged into a package of recently purchased muffins. 

He could leave a note... But this is far more endearing, I suppose.

*

DeBeep

2/23/10. 10:30am.
Phone call from Dad.

Dad: I'm calling from the cell phone. I can't seem to make any calls on the house phone.
Me: What's wrong with it. 

Mom is now on the other extension.

Dad: I don't know. It's making a weird beeping sound -- debeep... debeep... debeep... debeep... debeep... debeeep...

Mom and I bust out laughing.

Mom: I was wondering when that was going to stop.
Me: I know, he made that sound for a really long time.
Mom and Me: [laughing]
Dad: Look, I didn't get on this phone to be ridiculed. [hangs up.]

Debeep.

She wants it her way...

1980s.

One day, Mom took me to KFC for lunch. I was at the age when everything mortified me to epic levels of embarassment. Such is being a pre-teen.

She stepped to the counter and placed her order, with me at her side.

Mom: Uh, yeah. Gimme some of those McNugget things.
Me: [cringing] Mommmm, that's McDonald's. Not KFC.
Mom: Oh, it's the same thing. [beat] And two cokes...
Cashier: No coke. We have Pepsi.
Mom: Whatever, it's the same thing.

Truth be told: She's right.

"It looks like a big Tylenol."

Summer 1996.

Republic Airport might as well have been in the backyard -- that's how close it was to my home. People in the neighborhood often lodged complaints if a plane basically appeared to be landing on their front lawns. But I digress...

Case in point: Summer of 1996. Mom and I were in the kitchen chatting. We heard the plane coming before we actually saw it. There it was, coming in over the trees looking as if it was going to land on the roof, a huge plane -- seemingly too big to be able to land at Republic. Dad ran in from outside, where he'd been gardening.

Dad: Did you see that thing?
Mom: YES! I'm calling them now.
Dad: Did you see what airline?
Mom: No, it was blue and white. I couldn't make out the writing.
Me: It was huuuuuuuge. Can that thing even land here?
Dad: Unbelievable.

Mom picked up the phone and began to voice her concern, in her inimitable fashion.

Mom: Yes. I want to complain about a plane that just landed. I don't know what airline it was, but it was big, white and blue. It practically landed in our backyard, it was so low. How can you fly such large planes into this airport?

Dad and I were rehashing the situation when one of us came up with the bright idea of driving over to Republic to have a better look. Next thing I know, all three of us were in the car, driving the short distance to the airport.

We got to the intersection where the turnoff to the airport entrance was and noticed that the road was blocked off by a ton of police cars. Immediately thereafter we noticed a government motorcade zipped by.

Me: What the hell? Is this some kind of dignitary?
Dad: Must be.

The police let us pass after the motorcade disappeared and we turned by the airport only to see... gulp ... Airforce 2 parked on the tarmac. The area was flooded with a bevy of Al Gore supporters.

Mom: Oh, my God. Oh, my God. I just complained about Airforce 2.

When we got home, the first thing my mom did was phone the airport hotline back.

Mom: Hi... I just made a complaint about a low-flying plane. I want to take that back. I'm a registered Democrat. 

You say potayto, I say potahto...

2/16/10.

Mom likes to reminisce. Oh, about anything. I'm not even sure what brought this particular memory to mind, frankly. But it went like this:

Mom: Nicole, do you remember when we lived on Red Maple? There were those two little girls you were friends with and when they moved they left a lot of dolls that we ended up taking.
Me: Yeah, lots of vintage knock-off Barbies.
Mom: Right. And then they went to live in the caboose.
Me: What? [beat] They lived on a train? What?
Mom: No, they moved to Israel...
Me: Kibbutz! Not "caboose."
Mom: Right. 

Right. That's what she said.

Venus

My dad has false teeth. At night, he takes them out. His pronunciation isn't too great without his teeth in. Vs sounds like Ps, depending on the word he's trying to say.  And, so on...

One night, years ago, my dad had come in from putting out the trash and remarked:

"Gee, Penis sure is bright tonight."

Naturally, my mom and I giggled and said: "WHAT?"

Dad: "Penis! The planet. It's bright tonight."
Me: "Oh!!! VENUS. Venus is bright tonight."

I assure you, much laughter ensued.

She's here, get used to it.

There's a little strip mall in Massapequa that has a very nondescript "storefront." There's no real window to speak of and the sign above the door reads simply: Blanche.

My mother liked to get scratch-off lottos from a stationery store in this strip mall and occasionally I would drive her and wait outside in the car while she got her gamble on.

On one such occasion, I took a good look at this "store," Blanche. I started thinking, "What could this be?" There was no visible advertisement to clue me in, so I went down the nefarious route. By the time my mom got back to the car, I was convinced Blanche was a massage parlor.

Me: Mom, that storefront ain't right.
Mom: Yeah, it is odd, isn't it?
Me: I think something fishy is going on in there. You should go in and see what that's all about.

Before you think I was sending my mother into harm's way, you have to know one thing about her: If there's business you need done, Mom's your gal. If something's sketchy -- she's gonna get to the bottom of it and she's gonna report it to the proper authorities. In other words, Mom's got balls. Genetically, these balls were not passed on to me. I am, as they say, ball-less.

Mom: I'll go in. I don't care.
Me: Go ahead. I'm curious as to what's going on in there.
Mom: OK.
Me: No, wait. I dunno. Maybe it's better you don't.
Mom: Why?
Me: It looks too suspicious. Let's ask around first.
Mom: OK.

Months later, I was driving a friend and long-time resident of Massapequa home. We passed by the strip mall and Blanche's was "open for business."

Me: Just what the hell is that place anyway?
Friend: Oh, that? It's a gay bar.
Me: OH, MY GOD. I almost sent my mom in there to find out what kind of place that was.
Friend: Awk-ward.

In hindsight, I shoulda sent her in. Mom's always been pro-gay rights, so she probably would have just sat down at the bar and made a few new friends. Viva la Blanche's!