Mother

   - Sonnet 30, William Shakespeare

The announcement a few days ago that General Motors was ending its Pontiac line of automobiles, a pop culture icon, was a very sad thing and a telling commentary on the mismanagement of what was formerly one of the largest companies in the world; but, it brought back some very happy memories for me.

Mother’s Day falls on the second Sunday of the month of May – May 10th this year. So, I thought that a true story concerning my Mother would be appropriate for the May edition. So, let me tell you about how I tricked my Mother, lied to her, but gave her a wonderful surprise.

The year was 1971. I had graduated from the University of Houston and had landed my first real job in 1968. I was hired to impart the wisdom of Mathematics into the eager young minds of 7th and 8th graders at Spring Branch Jr. High (now Spring Branch Middle School).

I hated the job the first year, but loved it the next 3. Then, I got the opportunity to go to work for Congressman Bob Eckhardt who represented the 8th Congressional District which was comprised of the northeast and eastern part of Harris County, including the ship channel area and north of it and including Galena Park, Jacinto City, Channelview, parts of Pasadena, and Baytown.

I was not making very much money at the time and was about to get married. But, the Spirit moved me to want to do something very special for my Mother who had put up with me all those years and who had given me so much love and support.

My Mother was driving a very old Dodge automobile. It was semi-automatic which meant that it shifted automatically but also had a clutch in case you wanted to do it manually. The clutch was broken and the petal just slumped on the floor. This meant that the car would not move unless you manually pulled the clutch petal up with your foot or something. That “something” turned out to be a rope tied to the petal which you had to pull up so that the transmission would engage. And, you often would have to hold it up lest the transmission would start to slip.

My Mother deserved more than this. So, I tricked her and lied to her. I told her that I needed to borrow the car and that I needed the title for some reason. Also, I convinced her to sign the back of it. I don’t remember what I told her, but I know that it was a lie since I had ulterior motives.

My Mother worked at that time as a bookkeeper for Hotel Sonesta in downtown Houston. It is now named “Crown Plaza Downtown.” It was the hotel where Muhammad Ali (the boxer) stayed when he once came to town. She got to meet him.

Also, I had given a birthday party for Beethoven there on December 6, 1970. It would have been his 200th birthday on December 16. We showed a movie about his life and a friend of mine, Rick Range, improvised a rendition of “Happy Birthday” on a Grand Piano in the musical style of Beethoven. We even sang “Happy Birthday, Beethoven” and had a birthday cake for him. About 50 of my friends and family members attended. However, he did not attend.

But back to the story. On that one day in 1971, I had told my Mother that I would pick her up after work on Jefferson Street which ran beside the hotel.

I had visited a local Pontiac dealer that day and traded in her old, rickety Dodge for a brand new 1972 Pontiac Le Mans – all automatic. It was in her name, but I was going to make the payments on it.

It was blue with a white vinyl top. It was roomy inside but was barely large enough to hold my chest swollen with pride as I drove to my Mother who was standing on the sidewalk on Jefferson Street waiting for her secretive son to pick her up.

I stopped by the side of the curb right beside her. But, she kept looking back up the street for the familiar Dodge or for my car. Of course, she didn’t recognize the gleaming new vehicle. I rolled down the window on the passenger side and called to her.

“What are you doing in this car?”, she questioned. “It’s your car”, I said. She didn’t understand but got in. When I explained things to her and she realized what was happening, we both cried tears of happiness.

It was certainly one of the proudest things that I have done in my life. That car stayed with her and her husband (my step-father) until they both went home to God and I gave it to one of his grandsons from a previous marriage.

A mother’s love for you is indescribable. Give some back every day. If she is alive, tell her. If she has gone home to God, pray for her and to her.

Bob Connor is a continuing education teacher at St. Ambrose Catholic Church. You can reach him at bobconn@earthlink.com

(The Banner, May 7, 2009)