Heeeeeere's.....MAMA!
Saturday morning I picked up Mama bright and early. We had a lot of running around to do but needed especially to get to the Credit Union to deposit her treasury checks. She got a $51 tax refund and a nice economic incentive check and was very excited about both. She was wearing blue shorts, a teal shirt, yellow socks and tan shoes. I tried not to notice.
We entered the credit union (which was mercifully empty). Most people go through the drive-through or get their cash from the ATM on the weekend and I had counted on that. I had counted on that because I know Mama needs special handling and because I knew she was going to have to sign the checks. Mama, as she happily told at least 100 people during the course of the day, is "blind as a bat". She told the teller that. She told me to sign the checks. The teller and I told her she would have to sign them. She told us she couldn't write. The teller disappeared into the bowels of the credit union- a not unfamiliar reaction from people dealing with Mama for the first time. The teller returned. Sign or no money. Mama signed, badly. Apparently she is not Mary Richards any more. She is Mary Richabo. No matter, the teller accepted her signature, since she had both ID and an account there. Mama asked for $100, which I put in her coin purse, and deposited the rest in her checking account.
I do not believe that what happened next would have happened if Mama hadn't known she had an audience. A man and two young women were talking outside the credit union as we exited. Mama informed them as we passed that she "is as blind as a bat". They nodded but made no soft murmuring noises. As we got to the curb, I told her that there was a step down. She raised her right foot to knee level and stepped off the curb like Wendy stepping off Captain Hook's plank. I had her firmly by the right elbow but felt her begin to fall and spin. I grabbed for her left shoulder, but she dipped out of my grip, and, with a slow motion rolling fall that would have made Tim Conway proud, she sat down on the concrete. The impact was about that of a butterfly landing on your cheek, but she continued to roll and swivel, as hard to grab as a wet baby in the bath. I got her to sit still and tried to help her up but suddenly she weighed 300 pounds. She couldn't lift her own butt no matter how much I tried to help her. NOW there were soft, murmuring noises from the talking trio and they rushed to help her- surprisingly, THEY were able to get her to her feet- and with many expressions of concern and relief, they helped me get her to the car. She hopped right in, fastened her seat-belt and said "Where are we going now?" I couldn't immediately answer as my heart had stopped.
Mama wanted some new clothes since she has gained 23 pounds since moving to assisted living. (That's a good thing- she was a stick when she first moved in). So off we went to Mama's favorite store- K-MART! She wanted shirts, shorts and one pair of slacks. She couldn't choose anything, since she is a blind as a bat, so I had her feel the fabric and give me her nay or yea based on the feel (and color) of the fabric. We chose three pairs of shorts that varied only in color, three shirts that varied only in color, and a pair of light-weight slacks. Her whole purchase came to $43. She pulled two $20 bills out of her billfold- NOT her coin purse- and dug out $3 in change and paid the bill. Okay, I thought, she had some money squirreled away. Good for her.
She wanted to go to Applebees for lunch. After a very nice meal, she called for a To-GO box and pulled two $20 bills out of a zippered pocket in her handbag-not her coin purse, mind you, her handbag. Obviously she had $80 (at least) squirreled away in her handbag. She insisted on paying for lunch and gave me the two $20 bills.
"I don't need that much money" I told her, trying to give her half back.
"Take it, take it," she said.
"I'll pay for lunch and give you the change."
"No, you keep the change."
No point in arguing. I will slip the change in her purse later, I thought, and then I said "You did very well today. You still have $100 left."
"No, I don't," she said. "I spent it all."
"No," I said, "You had $80 in your purse when we left The Place. When we went to the credit union, you added $100 to that, which is $180. You spent about $40 at K-Mart, and you just gave me $40, so you have $100 left."
"You're crazy."
"Nope."
She stared at me unblinkingly with her owl eyes and then said, "Then you owe me money". I gave her back the $40 and she paid for lunch. The change went somewhere into the mysterious depths of her handbag. I left the tip.
The next stop was the shoe shop to pick up David's shoes. I tried to entice Mama in, hoping she might be interested in a new pair of shoes, but she was starting to tire and stayed in the car. I compensated by purchasing shoes for myself.
We went to Baskin Robbins for an ice cream cone, then drove to the old neighborhood so I could check on the status of our rental property. Mama was tickled as I tooled my PT Cruiser off the driveway and into the back yard to see if all the storm damage had been cleared away. It had. Mama cackled like we were doing something naughty or dangerous or both, so I obliged her with another turn around the backyard and a quick exit back onto the street. If I knew how to do a boot-leggers turn I would have done one. She'd have loved it.
We got back to The Place tired but happy. I helped carry her packages (plus a goody bag I had brought her from home and her doggy-bagged lunch) to her apartment. She looked ready for a nap. I put the food and drink away, pocketed the K-Mart receipt in case we had to return anything, and gave her a big hug and a kiss.
"Love you, Mama, see you soon", I said.
She smiled up at me. "Thanks for everything, David".
