On Christmas day I went to see my mom in the retirement home. There are two routes “over the hill” from our coastal town: over the mountain (Mt. Tamalpais), or along the ocean. It was a rainy/cloudy day. so I went along the coast. I played Procul Harum’s rock opeera A Salty Dog, pretending I was at sea.
No lofty peak, nor fortress bold, could match our captain’s eye.
Upon the seventh seasick day we made our port of call,
A sand so white, and sea so blue, no mortal place at all
My mom will be 102 in February. She is a Christian Scientist and has never had a doctor. She is the only lady in the home who is not on meds. Her muscles have failed her so she’s in a wheelchair, but she’s eternally optimistic. I have never heard her complain, or say she’s depressed. Sometimes she says to me, “Lloyd, I’ve never felt better in my life.” I was the first born, and the most trouble. From what I hear, she had her hands full. Mischief, and my life-defiance of authority. Now that it’s all in the past, we have a wonderful relationship. I tell her all about what I’m doing, and she’s amused. She often talks about stunts I pulled. I played the ukulele for her and sang: Over the Rainbow, Ja-da, Five Foot Two, Ain’t She Sweet, Darktown Strutters’ Ball.