To A Most Amazing Mom

Dear Mom ~ 

   You inspire and astonish me every day.  Fourteen years ago you were diagnosed with Parkinson's disease, but that hasn't stopped you from developing a passion for making jewelry, stringing gorgeous combinations of beads and stones with determined creativity.  A tremor in your hands could never deter you from doing what you want to do.  Not content to hide at home with your symptoms, you've continued to dress with panache and head out to the theatre, to play canasta or Mah Jong, to shoot pool, to attend parties and to throw them yourself, saying, "I am still the same Ellie.  Why shouldn't I do all the things that I want to do?"

Mom with Steve and me, circa 1962

 Now you are fighting lung and esophageal cancer, and dealing with the nasty effects of chemotherapy.  You face each new indignity with grace and an indomitable will to survive, and your always present sense of humor.  I think back 30 years, when you helped me move cross country, from Kentucky to Oregon, driving my old Toyota through beautiful country neither of us had ever seen.  I think of all the times you've trounced me at Scrabble, creating double and triple words worth 87 points or more.  I remember all your fabulous parties, your long glass table piled with mouthwatering dishes worthy of the cover of Gourmet.

Same three characters
Simple fondue lunch, Feb. 2013

I am so grateful to have been able to spend five weeks with you earlier this year, laughing at Carol Burnett and I Love Lucy, playing pool, choosing flowers at the nursery, giggling through the language snafus of "Chinglish" at South Coast Repertory Theatre, making fun of the doctor who walks like a penguin, preparing a "simple" fondue lunch for friends, taking pictures of the sunrise, sitting beside the pool wrapped up in towels on a chilly February afternoon in San Clemente.
As you heal and regain your strength, I'm excited at the possibility that you might move to Portland.  With two of your children and two grandchildren here, you would always have someone nearby to cavort with.
I love you, Mom - keep being the fighter that you are.
Your daughter,
                      Laurie