Mom
taught my two sisters and me that any trip wasn’t all it could be unless you
were arrested, got lost or injured and we’ve taken that lesson to heart. “We’re not lost, we’re having an unexpected adventure,”
she’ll say. We often return pock marked
with bruises from biking, hiking, sledding, skating, and Segwaying in her
wake. As far as I know she’s never been
arrested (except for a night on Sullivan’s Island involving fireworks which came
close). It’s probably still on her wish
list.
Stamina
is her secret weapon so we prepare for trips with her like marathons. “You should see all that is happening here,”
she boasted about her hometown of Detroit, “it’s a real renaissance.” Why did I challenge her? My exhausting tour began
when I arrived at the airport and actually included two symphony concerts in the same day, an eerily
empty people-mover, ramshackle houses covered with polka-dots by an outsider
artist and lunch at her favorite dive in a neighborhood that’s the kind of place
moms usually warn their daughters not
to go.
Follow
the crowd? She doesn’t do that. And so, one Christmas Day in Austria she, my
daughter and I ended up on a boat floating on an underground river to a sound
track of blaring yodeling. A few Japanese
tourists and the three of us had zipped ourselves into white coveralls,
straddled a long pole, held onto each other’s waists and slid down deep into
the earth. Ahh, Christmas in the salt
mines. Afterwards we slogged through the snowy
streets searching for an open café. The
only one we found was full of a Swedish youth group eating hot dogs. Mom taught them “She’ll be Comin’ Round the
Mountain”. We sang together with gusto trying
to drown out the ear worm of yodeling that the Japanese had loved so much they’d
bought the CD.
Feisty
is a trait she’s passed down to us. At a
posh spa in Miami several years ago, our waiter asked about our dietary
goals. Many people had come to lose weight. At Mom’s instigation we’d smuggled in bottles
of wine, cookies and snacks. “Stand up
Lila,” mom commanded. “Look at this
woman. Does she need to lose weight? No!”
she said to the waiter, “Now heap those plates and keep ‘em comin’.” After a few beauty treatments and exercise classes
Mom motioned us aside, “Psst, let’s make a break for it.” We ditched the terry cloth bathrobes, slipped
into party dresses and hightailed it across the golf course to a nearby hotel
where we danced with conventioneers and drank martinis until
midnight.
She’s
insatiably curious and will talk to anyone about anything (any everything
embarrassingly enough). So that’s how I
was able to prank her, my sisters and niece during a trip to Chicago. Somehow with all the city has to offer, Mom
was most looking forward to the Polish parade.
“It’s the biggest in the
country!” I handed out official looking
PRESS badges to each of them. “My editor has assigned us to better understand
Polish wisdom by asking people to explain these quotes.” I gave
them pithy phrases I’d culled from the closest thing I had, a book of Yiddish
Wisdom: “A fool falls on his back and bruises his nose…” “If you have money, you are wise and
good-looking and sing well too…” “It is
easier to guard a sack of fleas than a girl in love…” Immediately on task, Mom started interviewing
people in the elevator. She accosted
people all along the street and by the end of the day was surrounded by new
circle of laughing Polish friends.
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