There are not enough pages in this newspaper to tell everything about my mom and how wonderful she is. I know it sounds cliché, but my mom is my best friend. Always has been, always will be. So allow me to share with you a little bit of what sets my mom apart from all the rest.
The year was 1980-something (at least that is how they start their stories on “The Goldbergs”) and it was time for my mom to get a new car. Now what kind of car would a mother of three buy to transport her family? A mini-van? A station wagon like we used to joke about in “National Lampoon’s Vacation”? Oh no, not my mom. She got a black IROC Z28 Camaro (actually the first one was yellow, but caught on fire after a few months). V8 engine, T-top roof and all the features including a custom license plate that read “Rocbttm,” a play on the type of car and our last name.
We went everywhere in that car. With me being the youngest, I remember that if the whole family went in her car, I had to sit on “the hump” which was the little bump between the two bucket seats in the back (way before seatbelt laws). If it was a long trip, my “seat” would get so warm it would be almost uncomfortable to sit on (more uncomfortable than it already was). Whenever we went grocery shopping, I remember her asking for her produce in paper so it would not roll around, but the rest in plastic or else the trunk would not close. Very few baggers ever got it right. When we went on drives through scenic areas, I would put the seats down and lay in the trunk, looking up through the glass, and watch the world pass by (today I would scream at a parent who let their child do that). That car took us on all of our adventures.
Fast-forward about 20 years, and it was finally time to let the car go. Mom and I both cried. That car was a symbol of all the fun we had together, even if it was just an exciting run to the grocery store. When the decision was made to sell the car, I made one request: I asked for one of the license plates. It resides in my bedroom. The other one is in my mom’s home office. A reminder to both of us of the good times we had together in that car.
Happy Mothers Day, Mom!
Kelly Baeta, legal publications
