In the late 70's she could pass for the actress Linda Carter. The tv show "Wonder Woman" was a hit back then and people often commented on how much she resembled the golden lasso'd super heroine. I remember being little bitty and shopping in TG&Y. I heard a man's voice..."excuse me ma'am but are you Linda Carter?" (because you know Linda Carter hung out in discount stores in Shreveport, La. all the time. I'm sure she just ran in for some TaB and Freshen Up gum). At that point in my life that was the coolest thing that ever happened to me "my MaMa looks like Wonder Woman" I crawled into our big blue van and imagined we were hopping in the invisible plane and blasting off to catch the bad guys.
My Mother spells all curse words. Her three children are fast approaching 40 years old yet she still spells swear words in our presence. It's not that she doesn't recognize a "cuss worthy" situation. For instance she will whisper "see that little blond over there at the bar with that older gentleman. Well she's twenty years younger than him, she spends all his money (looks around to make sure no one's listening) and I hear she's a real "b-i-t-c-h". She has to be livid, I mean beyond
"p-i-double-s'd" to use the real word. In fact I have heard her drop the "F bomb" exactly two times in my lifetime...both times directed at me. The first time I had just got my driver's license (barely) and I took her Pontiac Bonneville down JuJu road (a scary, desolate, supposedly haunted road in Bossier parish-every town has a JuJu Road don't they?)...anyway I'm barrelling down JuJu and proceeded to pop two tires...if that wasn't bad enough I didn't pull over (it was JuJu Road I wasn't stopping) instead I drove on the rims. I drove on those rims until I finally found a driveway. The home owner came outside (thankfully without a shotgun) and allowed my friend to call her Dad. Her Dad picked us up and took us home.
I snuck back in the house and stayed awake until the next morning when my Mother went outside to get the paper and noticed her car was missing. "Kandace, where is my car?" I explained that her car was sitting in some dude's driveway....without tires...or functional rims...and promptly blamed it on my friends because if your friends dare you to "go down JuJu" then you "go down JuJu! My Mother's response "what the *F* (but she didn't spell it) am I supposed to do with you?!!!" Her punishment was to buy me my very own car. She left the house that day and exclaimed "I am going out and buying you a piece of S-H-I-T car! I am sick and tired of you tearing up my vehicles"! You see, I had already put a little dent in our second car, a Suburban, earlier that week. I sorta, accidentally, backed the Bonneville into the side of it. So she came home later that day with a cute little five year old Ford. It had electric windows (which broke soon after) and even a tape deck! I smiled to myself and thought "huh, some punishment" well little did I know it really was a piece of s-h-i-t, I mean if there was ever a lemon that car was it but I drove the "h-e-double-l" out of that '85 Ford Tempo! My MaMa's cars have been safe from me and JuJu road to this day.
"p-i-double-s'd" to use the real word. In fact I have heard her drop the "F bomb" exactly two times in my lifetime...both times directed at me. The first time I had just got my driver's license (barely) and I took her Pontiac Bonneville down JuJu road (a scary, desolate, supposedly haunted road in Bossier parish-every town has a JuJu Road don't they?)...anyway I'm barrelling down JuJu and proceeded to pop two tires...if that wasn't bad enough I didn't pull over (it was JuJu Road I wasn't stopping) instead I drove on the rims. I drove on those rims until I finally found a driveway. The home owner came outside (thankfully without a shotgun) and allowed my friend to call her Dad. Her Dad picked us up and took us home.
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The ghost of JuJu awaits those who steal their parents' cars |
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| Here's 15 year old me and the Blues Brothers car. Just pretend it's an '85 Ford Tempo until I can find the correct photo. |
My MaMa mixes a great Margarita. She doesn't use mix. She disappears around the corner to her bar and enters a zen like state. She's like a Margarita guru. She uses top shelf tequila. She squeezes the limes herself. When she and my step-dad remodeled their home she made sure there was a dedicated ice maker under the bar so she never runs out of fresh, pretty ice. She's right, it does makes the prettiest ice. She adds a few cubes and shakes it into the most refreshing, tangy, salty libation. For Christmas I had all natural prickly pear syrup sent to her from Arizona. She turned this cactus nectar into the most beautiful, delicious, pink hued cocktail I've ever had. She didn't become a mixologist overnight though. When the boys and I were little MaMa saved all the box tops from our Jello instant pudding boxes and sent them off for a free Jello Pudding shaker. This thing was AMAZING. First you added milk then the powdered pudding mix and then you put the lid on and you shook shook shook for what seemed like forever. I would stand behind the kitchen island and pretend I was James Bond. "I prefer my Chocolate pudding shaken not stirred". Well, I guess MaMa got real innovative because soon the boys and I would hear some shaking coming from the kitchen. "Yay! Pudding", but it was some kind of cruel joke for there was no chocolate goodness in that plastic shaker. Instead there was my MaMa in the kitchen, the radio blaring Robert Palmer and her shaking up a margarita in our Jello pudding shaker. Bill Cosby would be mortified! She used a mix back then and the brand of tequila she added came with a tiny sombrero that sat perched atop the lid. I may have lost my Jello pudding shaker but my Barbies gained a sweet selection of miniature sombreros.
My MaMa gets an idea in her head and she just does it. In fifth grade I was horrified to learn she wanted to go to work "What?! You're abandoning your children so you can hang out with adults and have grown up conversations?! But we are supposed to be your WORLD!!! Alas, she did go to work and I survived. I even learned how to load the dishwasher and fold my own clothes. She earned her real estate license and was even Century 21's "Rookie of the Year". She stopped selling houses a few years later and went back to school. She was actually in some of my friends' classes. It was kind of weird to have my friends calling up my Mom with Math questions. She earned a degree in Criminal Justice. She was too soft hearted for our nitty gritty justice system so she decided to become a Licensed Massage Therapist. She gained quite a following based on her deep tissue massages alone. She's pretty much retired from the world of massage therapy and her latest venture is moving supplies. Yep. Moving supplies. She has the Shreveport distributorship. Boxes, packing tape, dollies, etc. so if you or someone you know needs moving supplies check out www.shreveportmovingboxes.com FREE SHIPPING NATIONWIDE. Seriously. This is a real thing. She even had t-shirts made.
My MaMa can dance. I mean like really dance. Kit Kat can break it down! We have danced at weddings, birthday parties, fundraisers, Mardi Gras parades, patios, backyards, and a bar in the French Quarter called the "Fatted Calf" not exactly sure how we stumbled into to that one, I think she thought it was a hamburger joint.
My MaMa is beautiful. Not just kind of pretty, I mean gorgeous. Or to quote my guy friends in high school "DAY-UM! Your Momma is FINE"!
My MaMa has the greatest or most horrendous laugh you've ever heard. Either way it's memorable. If you ever go to a funny movie with her be prepared to switch seats and pretend like you've never seen that woman before in your life.
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| Shake-A-Pudding...add tequila |
My MaMa gets an idea in her head and she just does it. In fifth grade I was horrified to learn she wanted to go to work "What?! You're abandoning your children so you can hang out with adults and have grown up conversations?! But we are supposed to be your WORLD!!! Alas, she did go to work and I survived. I even learned how to load the dishwasher and fold my own clothes. She earned her real estate license and was even Century 21's "Rookie of the Year". She stopped selling houses a few years later and went back to school. She was actually in some of my friends' classes. It was kind of weird to have my friends calling up my Mom with Math questions. She earned a degree in Criminal Justice. She was too soft hearted for our nitty gritty justice system so she decided to become a Licensed Massage Therapist. She gained quite a following based on her deep tissue massages alone. She's pretty much retired from the world of massage therapy and her latest venture is moving supplies. Yep. Moving supplies. She has the Shreveport distributorship. Boxes, packing tape, dollies, etc. so if you or someone you know needs moving supplies check out www.shreveportmovingboxes.com FREE SHIPPING NATIONWIDE. Seriously. This is a real thing. She even had t-shirts made.
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| Cutie Pie gets all her moving and storage supplies from www.shreveportmovingboxes.com |
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| MaMa and Daddy getting ready to boogie down August 16, 1978 |
My MaMa is beautiful. Not just kind of pretty, I mean gorgeous. Or to quote my guy friends in high school "DAY-UM! Your Momma is FINE"!
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| My hot MaMa. My senior year. My Puerto Rican hooker dress. |
My MaMa has the greatest or most horrendous laugh you've ever heard. Either way it's memorable. If you ever go to a funny movie with her be prepared to switch seats and pretend like you've never seen that woman before in your life.
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| Pop Pop takes her to a movie every week...even the funny ones. |
There's so much more, but I will close with an image of my MaMa that has been burned into my mind for over twenty years now.
We lost my my Daddy as the result of a car accident the summer of 1988. He was thirty-two years old. I was 13 my brothers were 10. My Mother suddenly found herself a thirty-one year old widow to three children. A week or so after the funeral we were sitting on the floor of the guest room at my MawMaw's house. MaMa had held up so well. I honestly do not know how she didn't have a nervous breakdown. We were living in South La. at the time about six hours away from all our family. We had to go home soon. School was starting back. We had to get back to "normal".....whatever that was. My brothers were starting band that year. They both decided to play the trumpet. Daddy had played the trumpet all through school. He was looking forward to taking the boys to buy their first instrument. The amount of details, paperwork, etc. my Mother had to tend to during that time makes my head spin, you would think procuring fifth grade band instruments would be the farthest thing from her mind. At that moment on the floor of my MawMaw's guest room she dissolved into tears. I remember her words so clearly, though she was sobbing as she spoke them "he was going to take the boys to buy their trumpets. I don't know anything about buying trumpets. Ken played the trumpet. He was supposed to take them". To this day, when I recall that scene it hurts to breathe.
But she did buy the boys' their trumpets. They were pretty good little trumpeters too. They alternated between first and second chair all year. Not only did she buy them their first trumpets but she bought them their first John Boat, their first truck (a baby blue Bronco), she even bought them a used limousine when they were 17 in the hopes they would start a Limo business and become little entrepreneurs (they didn't, but that's a blog for another time) She let them catch creepy crawly things and keep them in buckets and aquariums around the house. She took them to football practice. She was the loudest in the stands at their wrestling matches. She packed them off to college. She talked to them about girls and how to treat a lady. She sat across from the District Attorney and tearfully pleaded with him to drop my little brother's curfew violation ticket because "he was a good boy" (it worked). In fact that's the most trouble my brothers were ever in. If there was ever an excuse to be an uninvolved parent she had one, but she was involved. Why wouldn't she be?
She's Wonder Woman.
We lost my my Daddy as the result of a car accident the summer of 1988. He was thirty-two years old. I was 13 my brothers were 10. My Mother suddenly found herself a thirty-one year old widow to three children. A week or so after the funeral we were sitting on the floor of the guest room at my MawMaw's house. MaMa had held up so well. I honestly do not know how she didn't have a nervous breakdown. We were living in South La. at the time about six hours away from all our family. We had to go home soon. School was starting back. We had to get back to "normal".....whatever that was. My brothers were starting band that year. They both decided to play the trumpet. Daddy had played the trumpet all through school. He was looking forward to taking the boys to buy their first instrument. The amount of details, paperwork, etc. my Mother had to tend to during that time makes my head spin, you would think procuring fifth grade band instruments would be the farthest thing from her mind. At that moment on the floor of my MawMaw's guest room she dissolved into tears. I remember her words so clearly, though she was sobbing as she spoke them "he was going to take the boys to buy their trumpets. I don't know anything about buying trumpets. Ken played the trumpet. He was supposed to take them". To this day, when I recall that scene it hurts to breathe.
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| 1988 |
But she did buy the boys' their trumpets. They were pretty good little trumpeters too. They alternated between first and second chair all year. Not only did she buy them their first trumpets but she bought them their first John Boat, their first truck (a baby blue Bronco), she even bought them a used limousine when they were 17 in the hopes they would start a Limo business and become little entrepreneurs (they didn't, but that's a blog for another time) She let them catch creepy crawly things and keep them in buckets and aquariums around the house. She took them to football practice. She was the loudest in the stands at their wrestling matches. She packed them off to college. She talked to them about girls and how to treat a lady. She sat across from the District Attorney and tearfully pleaded with him to drop my little brother's curfew violation ticket because "he was a good boy" (it worked). In fact that's the most trouble my brothers were ever in. If there was ever an excuse to be an uninvolved parent she had one, but she was involved. Why wouldn't she be?
She's Wonder Woman.
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| 2011 |
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