Mother's Memories

My mom was the neighborhood mom. Like in an 80s TV sitcom, our friends would often call her by some variation of her name (Mrs. V, Mama E., Moms, etc.). She was known to bake a mean pound cake (still does!) and could prepare a chicken that was better than Popeyes, Bojangles and KFC all deep fried into one. She was THAT mother.

Now, as welcoming as my mother has always been, she would never welcome you into her past. She's always claimed she doesn't remember much about her childhood or that children didn't know much because they were required to be seen (briefly) and then dismissed. So, having a mom with Fort Knox-like locks on her memory banks, I always grasp onto her every shared memory like an old lady on a steering wheel - unrelentingly.

You can imagine my surprise when my mom caught a case of word vomit today and revealed a devilish little memory from her childhood. In a conversation about my little problem (let's just say it starts with "con" and ends with "stipation"), my mother told me about the unconventional reply she and her childhood friends would give when asked if they wanted cheese. She recalled, "Anytime someone would offer it to us, we would giggle and say:

Me no eat cheese.

Cheese choke 'em ass.

Me no shit for many, many moons."

Now, I'm still not quite sure why adults were walking around offering cheese to impressionable young girls, but it was the 50s, and I'm guessing it had something to do with the advent of fondue.

The great part about this little tidbit, though, is not its blatant vulgarity or even the equally vulgar conversation that led to it. What's so awesome about this memory is that my 69-year-old mother remembered it. That gives me hope.

All the little blank spots from my past, the moments I just can't seem to fill with some important event I know must've happened - because my siblings told me so - could come back to me. What's more, they might be filled with hilarious, racist Native American limericks or something equally as "cheesy." Thanks, Mommy.

|