My mother moved out of

My mother moved out of her house after 54 years yesterday and into her new condo. My brother and I were there as the movers loaded up her stuff.

We took some time to walk around the property and reminisce. Sites of the old forts and treehouses. Skating on the ponds. Rubber ice in the spring. Rope swings. Getting the wind knocked out of us from falling out of trees and off the neighbor’s horse. Horse apple fights. Pulling weeds in the garden rocks. Endless mowing. Every few feet, a new memory came flooding back. It was glorious — and amazing how physical surroundings can trigger so many memories in such a short time.

On the way home, I stopped at my old elementary school, St. Peter’s in Mendota, and walked around the grounds to continue this blast from the past. Memories of games of pomp pomp pullaway, red light/green light, capture the flag, hockey bullies, little league embarrassments, recess bells, standing in lines. I really wanted to go into the old school, but ran short of time.

I drove past the Lost Spur Golf/Country Club for more immersion in my past. My first job as a dishwasher, where the cook hung huge pictures of naked women in the storage room, the first I’d ever seen. The swimming pool where I first saw girls in bikinis, and where I tried to learn fancy dives to impress them. Caddying for my wealthy neighbors. Dredging the ponds for golfballs.

I later stopped by my sons’ apartment and was telling one of their roommates about my last few months of school at St. Thomas College where he was going now, how I was on the parish board at St. Peter’s when a fellow board member invited me to apply for a job at St. Joseph’s Home for Children where he was a social worker.

On the way home, it occurred to me that that parish board meeting happened exactly thirty years ago, sometime during the month of April, 1971. A week later, I interviewed and on a tour of the unit, met my future wife, Robbie, in a linen closet. A month later, I started work there, and two and half years later, we got married.

Since Robbie and my daughter were on their way home yesterday from a 4-day youth choir trip to St. Louis, it then occurred to me to welcome her home with some flowers, celebrating our 30th anniversary of meeting each other in a closet. I went to my favorite flower shop, Forget-Me-Not, owned by my cousin Jane. I told her my mother just moved into her new condo, and the she told me that her parents has just moved into a retirement center here in Northfield earlier in the day. Jane and all her 9 sibs went to St. Peter’s too, and one of her brother’s just moved to town. I made a mental note to connect more with these people. Roots!

I went home to compose a little love note to Robbie, and when I wrote “…it was thirty years ago,” suddenly the first line from the Beatles’ song, “Sergeant Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band” came to mind, “It was twenty years ago today…” So I rewrote the words into this corny little piece and surprised Robbie when she came home. She was thrilled and I was proud of myself that I’d gone out of my way to do something special for her for no real reason.

So it’s a big new chapter in my mother’s life, and a small one for me. I’m grateful that I had a chance to savor the day.

To the tune of “Sergeant Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band”

It was thirty years ago today
Your love came into my life to stay
We’ve been going in and out of strife
But we’re still in love and that’s for life
So may I please suggest to you
I’m grateful we’ve survived these years
Robbie, Robbie, I’m a lucky man.

We don’t really want to stop our show
Which is why we were so glad to know
That your tumor has begun to die
I’m so grateful that it makes me cry
So may I please suggest to you
My one and only, Robbie Kay
I so love you, I’m a lucky man.