On July 12 I committed to write and post 16 stories involving my mom; here is story number eleven...(please let me hear your comments). XI Don’t Mess with Mom! Once mother got into the convalescent hospital business, she still worked long hours, but her time was her own; she could set her own schedule. This new freedom allowed her to choose how she would spend her time. She became very active with the youth of the church and I am sure, influenced many young ladies for the good. She also got deeply involved in the politics of the Convalescent Hospital Industry; even served as the secretary of the state association for many years. One couple mother got to know through her industry involvement was Fred and Mary Livermore; an older couple who had been around for a number of years. (I would have said that Fred and Mary became mother’s friends, but that would be redundant, everybody she spent any amount of time with became mother’s friends) Their company, Livermore & Associates specialized in convalescent hospital insurance; so they often hung around with industry players and were always happy to buy dinner for the association’s secretary. One night, after an association meeting, Fred and Mary took mother to a local restaurant (which happened to serve a pretty good cheeseburger and had a full bar) to get a late meal after a long day of meetings. Fred picked the place, and it wasn’t because they had great cheeseburgers (Fred liked a good drink or two or three or…). Not long after they had finished their meal and the waitress had delivered Fred’s after dinner highball, the waitress returned, interrupting their conversation to inform Fred that they were about to close the bar and that she would have to take his drink; Fred protested, “I just got this!” The waitress insisted, “We close at ten, I’ll need to take your drink now!” Fred held on to his drink and looked at his watch; “by my watch I’ve still got three-minutes” he said as he looked away from the waitress and continued his conversation with mom and Mary. The waitress moved on, but shortly thereafter, a husky young man who had been working behind the bar came over to the table; he proclaimed “we go by our clock around here!”; he then proceeded to “coldcock” poor old half-sober Fred. Fred keeled over in the booth from the blow to his chin. The bartender didn’t let up; with Fred pinned in the booth, he continued to punch defenseless Fred in his exposed ribs. Well, the bartender only landed a couple more shots before “Superwoman” intervened; that’s right, mom flew out of her seat, purse in hand (we don’t know everything that mom had in her purse that night, but we do know that it always contained her basic tools (you know, pliers and two screwdrivers)). Well, mom proceeded to beat that poor bartender like “a dirty rug”; soon he found himself at the other end of the room with his back up against the bar absorbing blow after blow from mom’s lethal purse (which surely seemed like a bag of rocks); finally other patrons were able to subdue mom. The police were soon on the scene trying to piece together the facts; they asked mom what happened, when she finished her story, the only thing the cop could think of to say was, “and then they pulled you off the bartender?” That wasn’t the only time mom turned vigilante. A few years later when mom was living in Canyon Lake, CA, she ran home after work one evening to finish wrapping and to load her trunk with all of the presents she had been collecting for the family Christmas party; she didn’t want to be late. She had only been home a few minutes when the doorbell rang, the stranger at the door asked for a tour of her house to get ideas for the house he said he was building on the next block; he had heard she had a nice house. Mother said, “I’m running late for our family Christmas party, but you’re welcome to show yourself around”. After a quick tour, the man returned to mom; “I’m through with my tour, can I help you carry those presents out to the car?” Mom replied, “Sure grab that big heavy one over there and follow me”; she headed out with an arm full of presents. On her way back to get another load, she passed him carrying the big present; she just happened to glance over her shoulder and caught a glimpse as he was loading the large present; not in her car, but in the back of his pick-up truck. At that point “Superwoman” spun around and flew in the direction of the truck. The stranger quickly climbed in, started his truck, slammed it into gear and began to pull away. It was too late! She had already closed the distance between the house and his truck and dove into the back just as he began to pull away. Mother unleashed her fury; standing in the bed of the truck, she began pounding on the roof of the cab screaming at the top of her lungs, “Stop this truck, right now!” He must have known that when mom told you to do something and then added “right now”, you’d better pay attention; he stopped the truck in stunned amazement. (I think he was pretty lucky mom was on a tight schedule and didn’t have time to finish the job.) She grabbed the present and let him off with just a tongue lashing. She was too late to change clothes; so she just finished packing and headed to the party. When she arrived at the party and came into our family room, we all froze in our tracks; with what seemed like one voice, we queried, “What happened to you?” There she stood, in a smart business suit, high-heels and all; dried blood on both knees with giant runs in her stockings. “Can someone help me bring the presents in?” Everyone received a nice present from mom.
Posted on: Sat, 17 Aug 2013 21:20:38 +0000
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