Mom Tales

Every Sunday, my friend Tori and I indulge in “mom tales” over our coffee. Our mothers, who were high school friends, seem to share a similar spirit. After losing contact for many years, they’ve reconnected and now enjoy weekly crochet sessions while watching TV at full volume.

I love making Tori laugh with my mom's stories. “Do you have any funny mom stories today?” she usually asks while pouring my coffee. “Oh, wait until you hear this one,” I respond. “I could write a book titled ‘My Mom Has No Filter’ based on her antics.”

Justin Halpern authored a book titled “Sh*t My Dad Says” by sharing his father's quotes on Twitter, eventually leading to a major book deal. Having read it, I found it hilarious, as it reminded me of my mom's outrageous remarks.

Mom's Background

Before I share a recent amusing story, let me give you some insight into her personality. She inherited many traits from her mother, who was truly one of a kind. If I had to describe her in one word, it would be hyper.

This might explain why patience isn’t one of my mom's strengths. At restaurants, she tends to order before the server can even take out a notepad. “Mom, at least let them get their notepad out first,” I often remind her, but my words go unheard.

While I'm driving, she frequently gives me directions, especially when I pause too long at a turn. “Go! You could have turned five times by now!” she insists.

Just like her mother, she has a sailor's vocabulary. As a child, I heard her say “damn it” so often that I wouldn’t be surprised if those were my first words.

Growing up, she was a tomboy, riding horses and defending her sisters from bullies. Her father, desiring a son after having four daughters, let her assume that role. Presenting herself as a tough woman, she has always demonstrated a strong work ethic, which I believe contributed to my own Type A personality. Once she starts a task, she must complete it, whether it's a project or a book—often staying up until dawn to finish her daily read. I've never met anyone who reads as much as she does.

A Kind Heart

Some of her habits drive me nuts, like getting into my car covered in cat hair and immediately brushing it off. But despite these quirks, I love her dearly. These idiosyncrasies that sometimes frustrate me are also what I find endearing. Everyone loves her; she has a genuinely kind heart. When family members ask to borrow money, she willingly lends it. She has supported me in numerous ways: from starting a hope chest with essentials to moving me into my college dorm, purchasing appliances for my first home, and simply being a listening ear when I need to talk.

Most importantly, she cherishes spending time with me and rarely declines my requests.

An Unexpected Request

In February, my mom surprised me by saying, “I want you to find my high school boyfriend on Facebook.” My eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What? Why?” “I regret breaking up with him and wish to apologize,” she explained. “Mom, that was 60 years ago,” I replied.

Since my stepdad passed away a few years back, my mom has been grappling with loneliness and depression. Eager to lift her spirits, I searched for her old flame, Buck Star. While I couldn’t locate him, I did find his brother, Donald, and sent him a message.

As my mom reflects on her past, sharing stories from her youth, I enjoy listening. “Buck and I dated for two years. If we had married, your name would have been Bell or Brenda Star,” she reminisced. “I’m glad you didn’t,” I responded.

Days later, Donald replied, “I have a brother who went by that name in high school. Why?” “My mom used to date him,” I replied, not realizing this would turn into a lengthy matchmaking endeavor between two shy Baby Boomers.

Donald recalled, “I believe they were planning to run away at one point.” “Really?” I exclaimed. “How romantic!”

“It’s true,” my mom confirmed. “Our parents thought we were too young and didn’t want us together. My mom was worried I’d get pregnant.”

Buck missed my mom's graduation, a mystery she later uncovered.

Months passed, and Donald messaged me again, mentioning Buck’s Facebook account had been hacked. Yes, he remembered my mom.

Connecting Two Introverts

“Buck said that if your mom wants to chat, let me know, and I’ll give you his contact details,” Donald said. I shared my mom’s number with her consent, but Donald seemed uncertain if Buck would call. “He’s waiting to see if your mom wants to talk,” he explained.

Oh my goodness! What had I signed up for? Of course, she wanted to chat; that was the entire point of my search. Why was Buck acting so shy?

“I’ll give him her number, but check with her first,” Donald instructed. “Can’t promise when he might call.” At