Of Blessed Memory, Mashed Potato Martinis and Trump

Three Years Ago:

Dad over for supper.

Would have been his 50th wedding anniversary with my Mom.

Trade suitably sad and happy stories over table full of leftovers.

In fact, he says. I had a dream about Mummy last night.

Kids stand up to clear table. There is only So Much they can take.

Recounts dream which is in fact nightmare as so much of Alzheimer's is.

I had a nightmare last night too, says 15 year old G, plate in hand.

I dreamt I went to a completely different school, and Trump was there and he was signing etrogs and giving them to everybody.

Whoa you're right, my Dad says. That is a nightmare.

Lesson Learned:
It is a sad state of affairs when the imaginary appearance of the President-Elect of another country competes for nightmare status with the tragic too-soon loss of one's beloved wife and mother and Bubbie.

It is an even sadder state of affairs when the obscure-citrus-fruit-signing, soon-to-be-leader-of-the-free-world, wins.

Also:
My Mom died on Sunday of Labor Day Weekend five years ago. Here's the blog post I wrote when I got up from shiva which remains one of my most popular pieces of all time (click here to read).

How This Relates to Hippocamp:
One of my favourite writers and Hippo-people who I am proud to call my Hippo-sister recently tragically lost a parent. We were talking (over mashed potato martinis) about how she needs to write all the blah blah out of herself to help with grief and get to the good part. I was saying that I rarely, almost never, write about the loss of my mother because while aspects of Alzheimer's are hilarious -for the most part it's as tragic as a chipped nail (which btw used to send my mother over the edge) and for the most part dementia jokes are considered in poor taste. I also told her that in my. mind the story of my mother would be best told as a play but I've never written a play and also who the heck has the time.

She Got Me Thinking Though:
That in between never mentioning my Mom at all and endlessly weeping and wringing my hands there has to be some kind of a way to pay a tribute to her, especially today.

So:
With that in mind, I went looking through my old pieces to see if there was anything I wrote and never published and I found this little number from three years ago and I thought. Perfect.