A Guilty Pleasure

The Guilt Trip is a film that will transport you back to some of those memorable Mom-moments when the words that passed between you did not always mean what you thought they did when you said (or heard) them. (You’ll grasp that sentence more completely once you’ve seen the movie.) I enjoyed remembering some personal Mom-moments as I watched Barbra and Seth interact.

On the way home, I thought about trips I had taken with my parents. I realized that I had never taken a trip with my Dad. Not a Dad-Marty trip, we always had others along for the ride; not surprising when you consider I was the oldest of six children, with the baby of the family less than ten years younger than I was. For decades, we did everything as a herd!

I have, however, taken a few solo trips with Mom. The first was back in 1976. I collapsed in my classroom at OPHS, was whisked to the brand new Orange Park Hospital with severe mononucleosis. I was ordered to rest with no opportunity to return to work for eight-ten weeks! The only way this was feasible was for me to go home to Massachusetts and take up residence (again!) with my folks. I was not allowed to fly, so Mom came down to Florida to drive me. We emptied my apartment into storage, loaded Mesmerelda (my 1974 Pinto), then set off up A1A as I-95 was still under construction and the undisputed Queen of the Scenic Route was doing the driving! (I was too shaky from the medications to get behind the wheel.)

A trip that should have taken only a couple of days, took much longer. Partly because I could not stay in the car for long stretches of time since the meds compelled me to need frequent breaks. Partly because we stopped to visit little museums, to read historical markers, to try “Granny’s Homemade Fudge.” We shared lots of ideas and plans: creating and selling to a petroleum company maps of day-trip sites within driving distance of each gas station, figuring out how to package a kindergartener’s birthday party essentials in one box which would eliminate parent-planning, writing a cookbook for singles. We did a lot of talking to and with each other. I learned a great deal about Mom’s interests, loves and loathings during that drive. I learned she was a fabulous conversationalist. I mean, who knew, this was MOM? It was the first time I had had her all to myself since I was 18 months old when FB was born and I was then 29! I discovered a thirst for her time that remains a focus of my life, even at 65.

Since my Dad died, we have taken several road trips together. Long hours in the car taught me the wonder of being comfortable saying nothing. Most of the people I know do not do silence; Mom does. It is refreshing and stimulating to sit within arm’s reach of another human and know you don’t have to chatter, that you are both content with being there, with no need to re-enforce that knowledge with idle talk.

We have taken cruises together. These were also eye-opening experiences for me. I live alone, yet realized this woman teased and challenged me so much that I had not one qualm about sharing a ship’s cabin with her for weeks at a time! We are related but not carbons of each other. We do not like the same politicians. We are intrigued by a few of the same writers (Ken Follett, Harlan Coben, William Martin). We do not relish the same reading genres: she is into the classics and non-fiction – she has an illustrated dictionary of the human body next to her living room chair. I would escape into the worlds of Clive Cussler and Brad Meltzer any day/every day. We have the same admiration for the wit of Dorothy Parker and Ogden Nash and others who sat at the Algonquin Roundtable but differ about modern humorists, though we do agree Dave Barry is a genius and everyone needs to know the words to all Tom Lehrer’s songs!

Mom is a friend, albeit one who still says, “Marty, you need to wear makeup and get rid of those bangs, they hide your forehead.” She would never have graduated from parent to friend without those times we spent together with no interruptions. Getting mono all those decades ago gave me a gift it took me ages to appreciate - I like my Mom.

So, take your parent to the movie, then, over dinner share what struck you both as hauntingly familiar when you watched it. Whether you go to the movie together or just go walk the beach, take my advice and “take a trip” with your parent one-on-one...it might turn out to be one of those guilty pleasures you don’t want to admit you enjoy.