Monthly Archives: February 2012

What do you do when you get tired of your first name?

You change the pronunciation of it every decade or so.

My mother’s first name was Corrine.  When growing up, her family and friends called her CorEEN.  When we moved to California in the 80s, she changed the pronunciation to CorIN for the first ten years and then to CorEY for the next ten.  When Mom moved back East, she became CorEEN again.

Confused?  Join the club.  But the best part is yet to come.

At her funeral last year, the priest who presided over the service shocked us all when he called her CorRYNE.

Was this some kind of cosmic joke?

At the time, my sister and I were furious.  But after ten minutes of listening to the priest’s stories about dear old CorRYNE,  we laughed.  Mom’s name was due for a change anyway.

If there’s one thing our mother was, it was predictable.  Even from the great beyond.

What do you do when a singer on TV hits a bad note?

Put your hands over your ears and yell, “Oh dear God, she’s so flat!”

This was a daily occurence in our house. An unsuspecting visitor might have thought Mom was commenting on someone’s bosom, but we knew she was lamenting about a pitchy singer. Remember, my mother was a soprano with perfect pitch.  Listening to off-key singing was a form of torture for her.

Several years back when Mom was in the Alzheimer’s unit, my daughter, Allie, and I went to visit.  Mom was drifting in and out of sleep, and all the nurses suggested I sing an old Sinatra song to fully awaken her.  Inspired, I belted out “Fly Me to the Moon” for her (and everyone else) to hear.

Her response was not exactly what I was going for:  Mom puckered her face as if she just tasted a horribly sour lemon.

Those nurses totally set me up.

Shocked and a bit hurt, I handed the solo over to Allie. Within 10 seconds, Mom breathed a heavy sigh of relief, broke into a beautiful smile and opened her eyes to see a sweet 12-year old singing one her favorite songs – in perfect pitch.

Even though the connections in her brain were completely malfunctioning, her musical ear was as sharp as ever.  We all had a good laugh at the faces she made, including Mom, who was still cognizant enough to enjoy the joke.

At the expense of yours truly, of course.

What do you do when you suspect your husband is falling for someone else?

Invite her over for Sunday dinner.

Awkward?  Yes.  Genius?  Who knows.  Maybe this was Mom’s way of keeping friends close and enemies closer.

At the time, I was a teenager and thought my mother was completely clueless.  Now I know different.  She was totally aware of the threat, and her seemingly innocent invitation was a brilliant move to show her competition the family and home she and my father had built – together.

That infamous Sunday lunch marked the first and last time any of us saw my dad’s pretty friend. But I never forgot her.

Neither did he.

What do you do when your beloved father dies on the day your daughter gets engaged to be married?  

You put her happiness first and keep the sad news to yourself until the next day. This she did for me, and I will never forget it.

Years later when she was well into her dementia and receiving excellent care at a Masonic nursing home, I thought about what I would say at her funeral. Would I be able to remember any of the good after the nightmare we had been through for five years?

At first, the answer was no.

Then, I dug deep and remembered this story.  Then another and another.  Pretty soon I had ten wonderful stories and realized how good she was to me when it really counted.

Mother of the Year?  Not really.

Mother of the Year on the day I got engaged? Absolutely.