Topic: Mother

Author: Chris Dunn

The band is hammering into the latter-half of their set, and at this point the crowd is on their feet, dancing and hopping in a way I’ve only witnessed at a SHADOWRAPTR show. I down the last of my beer and start a debate with the sensible side of my brain who cautions once more against ordering another.

“It’s late and they’re almost done and you’ve already got a good buzz on. Why spend another six bucks?”

“Yeah, but… Party!” The pro-beer side of my brain does lack a certain eloquence, but his voice is louder. Screaming about good times and happy vibes and hippy children crowd surfing in a tiny backroom bar, he drowns all arguments of reason, until.

“Yeah, but what about mom?”

Shit! This good point cuts throat all the haze, loud music and distortion – strikes right to my core and wakes me up. Mom is here! Somewhere in this sweaty press of bodies a 70 year old woman is lost and alone! Having worked her way down the hill to see her grandson’s band perform, having waited patiently through opening bands and house delays, having removed her hearing aids due to their unnecessary ineffectiveness – Dee Dunn is still here, at the Tavern, at half-passed one in the morning. At least, I think she is… I go in search, but it doesn’t take long. Two steps away, crawling over the back row of people, I find her sitting calmly at our table a fresh glass of Dewar’s resting before her and a contented smile on her face.

“HAH! Take that sensible-head!”

“Fine, fine, get another beer then.”

If there’s one thing you need to know about my mom, she liked to party. Cast parties, birthday parties, holiday parties, derby parties, Indy 500, Superbowl, Final 4. You name the occasion, she’d throw a party. That was the thing, she didn’t just like to go to parties, she had to plan them - prepare, cook and throw them. Guest lists, menus, place cards, party favors, party games, mixers, events planned down to the matching, themed drink stirrers. She did it all, and she did it up right. The years I did time as a vegetarian, she made sure to include menu items for me. Even afterward, when I had seen the but-bacon-tastes-good light, she continued to make sure there were options for my friends whose enlightenment took slightly longer than my own. She wanted everyone to have a good time, to feel welcome and included. And then, she wanted to be in there with them. She’d close down every Christmas party, see you to the door on New Year’s Eve checking you were good to drive, and even hit last call with the millennials.

The late, great comedian, Bill Hicks once said, “I never stole to buy drugs. I worked to buy drugs! That’s how it’s done. You work to make the money, then use the money to buy the drugs.”

Mom once shared a similar sentiment which will always stick with me. It was Thanksgiving. That meant, turkey, onions, mashed potatoes, green beans, stuffing, cranberry sauce (both canned and fresh), rolls, all the trimming with hors d’oeuvres and every kind of drink option you can think of. She’d planned for weeks and cooked for days, made sure we had enough place settings and chairs for all, even room for a bit of overflow for those times when a plus one came out of nowhere.

I’d arrived early to see if there was anything she might need help with. After all, she wasn’t a young woman any longer, the effort had to be taxing. Typically she put me to work gathering up my father’s sprawl. He has a switch in his brain that cannot suffer a clear, horizontal surface  to exist and considers a pile of boxes to already be “put away”. (More on that Sunday June 17^th) But when I arrived the house was already prepared. The kitchen was alive with cooking smells, and there I found her, staring at the oven. I inquired, and she informed me that things were almost ready. There was nothing for me to do. “Well, can I at least get you a drink?” I asked. “Is it about scotch-time?”

“No, no,” she said. “It’s not scotch-time, yet. I need to finish the potatoes first, then it’ll be scotch-time.”

Such simple, pure wisdom. Do your work, do what is required of you, but remember to enjoy yourself. Don’t forget what all that hard work is for.

Next time you’re at a party, and you know you’ve earned it through your hard work living this life and taking care of your fellow human beings, think about Dee Dunn and be happy. But don’t waste your time trying to find her, she’s in the joy all around you.