I love the movie Scrooged. I often borrow lines from it, most of the time morphing the original (line) into one of my own. Today’s title however speaks not of Frank Cross but of Frank Sinatra. One of my Mom’s favorite vocalists back in her day. Ole Blue Eyes. He was from her neck of the woods. Jersey.
She was a young woman once. Incredibly intelligent, fiercely independent. She walked to the sound of her own drummer, which is to say, marching band. She was a clark. I know what that means ‘cuz I’m a clark. But you may not so here’s the link to the Wakefield Doctrine.
She found herself, at what back then was middle age, about to have another child. She thought she was done with all that. Not. To everyone’s surprise, Kathleen was going to give birth one last time at the age of 42. To yours truly.
Let’s face it. I was a total surprise, yet she would always remind me that I was special because she and my Dad planned me. I think it was her way of making me feel better for being teased for having “old” parents. And who knows, maybe it was true. I like to think so.
Today is your birthday Ma. Martha Jean over at the FB posted a pic of the family when it was just beginning. She wished you a happy birthday. I don’t get it, the wishing dead people a happy birthday on a social media site, but look at me. I’m writing a blog post (“I’ll fill you in when I see you. Yes, yes I know technology and such has advanced. No, I know for a fact you would not like the kindle or e-books or any of that stuff”) today pretty much doing the same damned thing!
I’ll be thinking about you today and taking a spin ’round the kitchen on your behalf.