The Band Wagon

I believe I am a particularly old-fashioned sort of person because I had a mother who was always on The Band Wagon. It was as though my mother saw her life as a Kaleidoscope always needing to be tilted. There wasn't a day I didn't come home from school that I wouldn't find my mother entranced by the trend of the moment.

There were the days my brother and I would only eat oranges because my mother was on the Cabbage Soup Diet that was to transform her perfectly plump familiarity into a svelte carpooling Mom we wouldn't recognize.

There were weeks I would press my ear to the front door before entering hoping the strains of "What's New Pussy Cat" had already faded away. I couldn't bear to hear another commentary on the number of middle aged women who had swooned themselves to the ground upon hearing this song.

But the worst by far were counting the days until the "Happy Hooker" left our end tables to travel to the next mother on The Band Wagon. Curiosity drew me to it's cover again and again, a Bobwhite Spend the Night left us giggling about the unknown.

Our mother's adventurous personality often spilled over onto my brother and I. We lived in fear of coming home from school to find new "outfits" left on our beds. My poor brother took to hiding alternate clothing in his book bag to change into behind the neighbors hedge. Silky shirts with pointy collars, maroon bell bottoms that hugged the hips. It never occurred to us to rebel as so many of our peers did. We embraced any measure of conformity as a flailing swimmer would a preserver.

At the end of my mother's days on this earth, her spirit was not bound by the constraints of her physical body. She infused in those around her the energy of her will and her curiosity to experience what lay ahead. I know that in Heaven my mother is as she was with us, the breath of possibility when you dare to lead the way.

Please, for personal use only.