Hey Diddley Ho neighbors! It’s Mother’s Day. The day that probably ranks right next to your anniversaries as the day you fear forgetting the most. Thank God the sports world uses pink bats and ribbons huh? Way to keep us on track. Facebook helps me remember my friend’s birthdays, but only if I bother to log in. I don’t have that anniversary problem, but I do have a mother. She now hangs her hat in Las Vegas as she enjoys her Golden Years. She goes to see The Gambler (Kenny Rogers) and waxes nostalgic about The Rat Pack as she watches those old school hotels get torn down. I detest the heat so I don’t think Las Vegas would be my destination if and when I can ever retire, but she’s happy and that’s all that matters. We have a three hour time difference so she’s rising about now. I won’t tell her about the post though…even though she’s directly responsible for my love of music via her Buddy Holly, Bill Haley and Chuck Berry records, I don’t think she’s ever understood where it took me. Let’s just say Sabbath Bloody Sabbath isn’t on her best of list.
I don’t want to go on about how important mothers are to the world, but I certainly owe my mother a major debt of gratitude. Things never went as planned for her, but she never complained and shielded her brood from as much of the world as she could. We didn’t want for anything until we were old enough to understand how much money we didn’t have and that really didn’t happen until we started making plans for my sojourn to Emerson College. I was the oldest so everything was new to both of us. Unfortunately I took such a shine to my new town I never looked back. In my most recent job I used to travel to Las Vegas at least once a year and we’d hit the buffet, the wax museums and see a show (Blue Man Group, George Carlin or an hilarious comedy show featuring Harvey Korman & Tim Conway) every year. Fun for both of us. Anyway, Mom, even though you will never see this post, thank you for everything. As Neil Young might say; These notes are for you!