C-Span, Air America and my Mom

In the last few years, my enthusiasm for my trip to Florida has been diminished by the anticipation of what condition I would find my mother's health in. Diagnosed with Parkinson's disease five years ago, my mother knew her health would take difficult turns. She always held the Pope's long survival up as an example of her possible path. After his death last year, we stopped using him as a comparison but my mother continued the math. She had always subtracted two years from the Pope's present state and then arrived at what she should be like. The Pope is no longer part of our conversation.

My yearly trips have increased into bi-annual, and now they are "whenever possible." My mother had requested that my sisters and I come and help her decide how to disperse her collection of three generations of family jewelry. While none of us sisters are very materialistic, I felt that my claim needed to be represented, and besides, winter in Chicago-land did not seem to be giving up and the Florida sun would be appreciated.

It had been less than three months since my last visit but the Parkinson's disease had marched forward. She didn't rise from her chair as I entered my parents' home. Both arms bent upward from her elbows and her left leg extended at the knee waving in a tremor. Her eyes gave me a loving greeting followed by a soft "How are you?" This quiet spoken. frail woman gave no hint of her previous vivacious personality. This yoga teaching, health food eating, Berkinstock wearing, Democratic leaning. Howard Dean voter (sorry I can't help but add this) quietly waited for my hug as I stooped down.

My father still loves to entertain his visiting children and scheduled a back-waters fishing trip. My parents' routine consists of having a helper come in two days a week so my father can get out. My mother enjoyed the young Haitian aids but we couldn't figure out why she gave my father excuses to cancel the new middle-aged American helper. She finally revealed her hesitation. "That woman is a right wing Republican and she doesn't like the TV and radio that I have on." She finally agreed to have her come when she decided, "I am going to watch C-Span and listen to Air America any way. Maybe I will enlighten her." She grinned with that spark in her eye she always had while she raised me.

Whenever I entered her bedroom she would be either looking at the TV that was two feet in front of her face or leaning to the left listening through the static to Air America. "Look at that, those Californians are upset about the new laws on immigrations" or say. "Isn't that Randi Rhodes great? Do you know she is really a pretty? I saw her on TV. I would never have guessed that because she sounds so tough on the radio."

We don't really use the "D" word much. She prefers to talk about "going to the other side" or "passing through the door." We have both gotten discouraged with the way our democracy is going. She thinks if she keeps learning about what is happening she can help, meanwhile I do my part by organizing another meetup or peace rally. Yesterday while listening to a senate debate, she looked up to me and said. "When I am on the other side, I will be working to help you make a better America." I smiled and said, "Yes mom, you will be in good company along the side of Thomas Jefferson and Martin Luther King."

As I fly home in the plane, I look down at my mother's wedding ring that barely fits my pinky finger. I know that I have inherited more that a few pieces of jewelry. While my younger sister has my mother's passion for shopping and my older sister carries on her love of sports, I can see I am the one that inherited her fire in the belly to fight for a better America.

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