I Think I’m Becoming my Mother

Surprisingly, it’s not that big of an ouch.

This revelation is somewhat of a shock for an almost 50-year-old to discern, but really, only somewhat. My mom’s pretty cool. Both of my parents are, actually.

The thing is, when we were kids, my mom was always the talker. She talked to anyone. We would stand an extra ten or fifteen minutes in line at any store while she just chatted away. As kids we were typically at the gumball machine dispenser either rolling our eyes or waiting for a quarter. (Normally it was the quarter.)

My siblings and I would always joke about mom and her “gift of gab.”

And now I realize I have inherited it.

I can yap up a storm with the best of them. I have been known to talk to just about anyone about almost anything. I can get chatty with the person who hands me a coffee at the McDonald’s drive-thru or the waitress who brings me a pile of pasta at a restaurant.

One of my favorite stories to tell is when my sister and I were shopping at Kohl’s. We had separated into different departments and I was looking at the bargain bin or something when an older gentleman walked up to me with an electric razor box in his hand.

He looked genuinely distressed and said, “Pardon me, miss. Do you know how much this is?”

For a split second, I considered telling him I didn’t work there, but he seemed pretty forlorn and I remembered the price check scanners that, quite frankly, I loved to play with, so I said to him, “I don’t know off the top of my head, but let’s see if we can find out.”

I walked him over to one of the scanners, tilted the bar code under the laser and when it beeped, I said to him, “It looks like it’s $39.95.” By this time, a buddy had walked up next to him and I added, “What do you think, fellows, it’s $39.95.”

The other guy thought it was a pretty good deal, but the first man appeared to figure something out and quietly murmured to me, “You don’t work here, do you?”

I told him I didn’t, but it wasn’t a big deal because I loved messing around with the price scanners. They both thanked me and moved on to decide whether or not to purchase the razor.

I turned around with a smile on my face and there stood my sister with an incredibly gobsmacked expression. She whispered, “What in the holy fuck are you doing?”

I regaled her with the story and she shook her head, mumbled something about “this is why I maintain a resting bitch face” and marched off to the shoes.

This talking-to-people thing I inherited from my mother could be a peculiar sickness. It remains to be seen.

Most of my spur-of-the-moment conversations have to do with animals.

I’ve got my standard groups of people who know not only that I work at an animal shelter, but that I’m a cat mama, so inevitably, when I stop by certain places, I’ll get into conversations about how my babies are doing and how their babies are doing and we’ll pull out our phones and…yeah.

I’m really am my mom.

One of the best conversations I’ve had in a while came when I spoke to the local AARP group recently. I usually stop by in March every year to give an update about the animal shelter and just generally have fun with an awesome group of animal-lovers.

These folks are a total hoot and absolute proof that joy and entertainment can continue throughout life. They love to laugh and joke and carry on, but most importantly, they love animals.

I brought a little beagle/Jack Russell mix with me named Lola who is the dearest little girl. She sat right next to me while I talked and actually appeared to listen to the stories I told. She came to the shelter because her human mom and dad were getting a divorce. Lola and her two pups didn’t work out in the home anymore, so they came to us for a second chance. Everyone just loved her.

The AARP was also celebrating the birthday of a member who is 95 years young. That’s exactly how she was described. Esther is quite a pistol. She’s had a stroke, but you sure couldn’t tell. She’s keeping track of the books for the AARP and when they presented her with a cake, she said, “The day I was born there was a blizzard. The doctor couldn’t make it to the house, so my grandmother had to deliver me. She must have done something right, ’cause I’m still here!”

Now, I’m going to ask you to imagine Esther’s journey into this world. It’s 1924 in south-central Pennsylvania and a woman is delivering a baby in a winter storm. Just think about it — a small town, no cell phones, possibly no indoor plumbing, electricity or modern appliances. And there’s a baby on the way. For those of us used to the conveniences of this era, that’s a seriously scary concept.

And while you’re thinking, I’m telling you, right now — you, the person reading this article — TALK to members of the greatest generation and anyone who came before them. LISTEN to their stories because that is how we remember history and the history around us is so incredibly rich.

Life wasn’t always like it is today with our technology and social media and our instantaneous communication. It’s important to remember that and the people who lived it because that’s how we keep it alive.

We can learn so very many valuable lessons from the people who came before us. The lived in a slower time, a time abundant with family and a deep understanding of life the way it could be lived. There was very little electronic distraction during that time and yes, a lot of their worries came from basic survival — what to eat and how to stay warm in the winter — but I think they had a real solidarity, a kinship that I fear might be slowly eroding away in these modern times.

When I was a kid growing up, we ate food that came directly from my grandma’s garden — and it was cooked on her wood-burning stove. When my grandma was little, her bathroom was an outhouse. I’m betting if you had to pee in the middle of the night, you learned to hold it. A midnight trek to an outdoor toilet couldn’t have been fun. I mean, the snakes alone…*shudder*

At any rate, I digress. I told the AARP stories of the animals at the shelter, including Katniss, our escape-artist feline who can get herself out of virtually any closed door as well as little Tucker Lee, a terrier who was dropped off in our outside run one evening because he didn’t get along with the new baby.

At the end of the meeting, we had refreshments and all got a chance to chat. That’s when a whole lot of people came up to me to meet little Lola and talk about their own animals. I heard stories from immediate, emergency surgery to help a dachshund be able to walk again, to a daughter who takes in every stray she sees, to a little pup who was saved from a Pa. puppy mill.

As we talked, everyone reminded me of the donations they had in their cars so I wouldn’t leave without them and little Lola maybe had a sugar cookie — don’t tell anyone at the shelter, though, it was supposed to be a little secret between me, Lola and the AARP.

The group managed to collect more than $200 for the shelter as well as a whole van-load of supplies, but that’s not all they gave me.

I learned something very important from my time spent with the AARP. I was reminded of what’s important in life — fellowship and a true connection with one another. The stories that make us who we are are the ones worth listening to and repeating. What could we learn from the resilience of a woman who’s 95 years young?

It’s important to remember when we get caught up in other people’s issues or drama or life problems that sometimes we need to take a break and concentrate on the significant parts of life — sharing thoughts and ideas with like-minded folks about what means the most to us.

I can’t help but wonder if that might be what my mother has been doing all her life by striking up conversations wherever she goes. Perhaps it was something she’s known all along and was trying to impart to her kids, even when we were little.

And isn’t that a serious revelation?

Maybe becoming my mother isn’t such a bad thing after all…