D i e n u

(since i can’t share this day with my mom, i thought i’d share a little bit of my mom with the world. she wrote this poem when i was a freshman or sophomore in college.)

Our TV blew up yesterday,
Now Maurey has nothing to say.
The Price isn’t right,
X-Files no fright,
Our TV blew up yesterday.

A quiet’s descended our house
No Scooby, no Rugrats, and no Mickey Mouse
There’s no Highway to Heaven,
No film at eleven,
Our TV blew up yesterday.

The rain hasn’t let up for a minute,
Life’s hard when there’s no TV in it,
I’ve stared at the screen,
Wished it into being,
Our TV blew up yesterday.

Did Courtney and Beth get married?
Or is their boyfriend still harried?
Oh what I wouldn’t give
For just “One Life to Live,”
Our TV blew up yesterday.

Our TV has gave up the ghost,
No game shows and no talk host,
There ain’t no Marshall Dillon,
Oh I’d give a million!
Our TV blew up yesterday.

The warranty must have run out,
To the day, to the second, no doubt.
I’m mad as a hatter but,
What does it matter?
Our TV blew up yesterday.

The screen just sits there so black,
There’s no “Murder, She Wrote” back to back,
I can’t stand it no more, no
COMMERCIALS GALORE!!
Our TV burned up yesterday,

I say….
Our TV blew up yesterday.

The End!

(Happy Mother’s Day!)

I know there’s a color and a ribbon for pretty much every disease out there. And they are all important.

But the red dress symbol is especially personal to me.

Heart disease is the #1 killer of women in the United States. Probably because the symptoms we usually associate with a heart attack are true for men, but not so much for women.

My mom died of a heart attack nine years ago. She was only 46. If she had known more about the symptoms, if she’d gotten better treatment, if we’d known how to respond, she might still be alive today.

Tomorrow, Friday February 6th, 2009 is National Wear Red Day. I’ll be wearing red in memory of my mom. And I’ll tell anyone who asks about what to watch out for and how they can help.

Will you do the same?

It’s too late for my mom, but it doesn’t have to be too late for the women in your life.

For more information about the the impact of heart disease on women and to estimate your own risk, visit the American Heart Association’s website at GoRedforWomen.com.

And in case anybody asks, here is some information about women and heart disease.

Six Risk Factors for Women
- High Cholesterol
- High Blood Pressure
- Smoking
- Sedentary Habits
- Obesity
- Diabetes

Of course, there are other risk factors like heredity and age, but the six risk factors above play a big role. And the important thing about them is that you have the power to affect them.

Symptoms of a Heart Attack

- Chest pain:

The most common symptom for men and women. it usually happens right in the center of the chest, lasts for more than a few minutes, and comes and goes. it can feel like uncomfortable tightness, pressure, squeezing or pain.

While chest pain is the most common symptoms, women are far more likely than men to experience other symptoms that you might not associate with a heart attack.

- Discomfort in other areas of the upper body (one or both arms, the back, neck, jaw or stomach)

- Shortness of breath, with or without chest pain

- Cold sweats, nausea or lightheadedness.

The afternoon before my mom had the heart attack that killed her, she thought she was getting the flu. 18 hours later she was dead. Had she known that her nausea and lightheadedness were symptoms of a heart attack, she could have gotten help. But she didn’t.

Now you do.

It’s taken me eight years, but I think I’ve finally found a way to remember my mom’s life — not just her death — that feels really good to me.

Here are some photos of the process (the details are between me and my mom):

Love you momma.

I’ve been watching some terrible television lately. Including this program called Super Nanny. (Though I think the worse thing I’d cop to watching is John and Kate Plus Eight.)

Anyway, Super Nanny is a reality TV shows that basically follows a modern-day Mary Poppins who comes into households with unruly children and frazzled parents and teaches them how to run a tighter ship.

The episode I watched last week showed Super Nanny aghast at some parents who had the parenting skills of hyenas. They screamed at their kids, yanked them around, bopped them on the heads and even washed one little boy’s mouth out with liquid Dial because he lied.

And that got me thinking about how my mom disciplined me when I was growing up.

My stepmom was pretty quick with the spankings, but corporal punishment was never my mom’s thing.

In fact, I can remember only one spanking.

I was about nine or so. And we had a cat that I loved dressing up in little doll clothes. (Which I’m sure the cat really appreciated.) At one point, I must have decided that the kitty needed a little bracelet to go with his kitty dress, so I wrapped a rubber band around his little kitty wrist on his front right paw.

And forgot about it. For several days.

Until my mother noticed the cat had started limping. She cut the rubber band off and discovered that the rubber band had cut into the cat’s skin and cut off most of the circulation to his paw.

The cat didn’t lose his paw, but it took months before he could walk on it again.

Looking back, I’d say that was a pretty damn good reason for a spanking. I had power over another creature and, for my own entertainment, I recklessly exercised that power without taking the responsibility that comes with that kind of control. There’s a lesson in there, I know it.

But I didn’t get spanked because of the rubber band around the cat’s paw.

That’s not how my mom worked.

I got spanked because, when my mother asked me if I had wrapped a rubber band around the cat’s paw and left it there for days, I looked her in the eye and said “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I wasn’t spanked for hurting the cat. I was spanked for lying about it.

As an adult, it kind of warms my heart to think back to that. I remember the way my mother delivered her logic, like a campaign speech, full of pregnant pauses and meaningful intonation.

It was like an episode of The Cosby Show. Except I don’t think Cliff Huxtable ever bent Theo over and spanked his ass with a belt.

So it was like an episode of The Cosby Show — Extreme Redneck Edition.

I think Super Nanny would have approved.

My mom would be 54 today.

It’s strange to me knowing that I’ll always keep track, always counting to the age she would be today by starting at the 46 she’ll be forever.

This day is always hard. But it’s becoming hard in a different way.

It used to be that I missed my mom so much I felt like I was being turned inside out.

With every year that goes by, the pain dulls a little bit. But it’s replaced by a different kind.

One that isn’t so sharp, but hurts even more deeply, I think.

Because I realize that I’m starting to forget what my mom looked like. What she smelled like. What her voice was like.

Every year, my mom becomes a little more of an abstraction to me, an idea of what I used to have rather than a person who was part of my life for 21 years.

I don’t want to go back to the pain I felt in the first few years after my mom died, the days when I would smile and laugh when other people were around, then scream silently into my pillow when I was by myself.

But in some ways, this feels even worse.