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“I'm Still
Learning from My Mother” by Cliff Schneider WHEN
I WAS A YOUNG BOY growing up on New York's Long Island in the 1950s, it was common to see boys and their fathers
gathering in the roads in front of their homes on warm summer evenings to
"have a catch." That was the term we had
for tossing a baseball while we talked about school, jobs and life in general. Although my dad and I had many catches together, my most
memorable ones were with my mother. She would
happily grab a glove, run out to the road and then fire fast balls at me that
cracked my glove and left my hand stinging. She
never showed any motherly concem, though, just a
broad grin with the tip of her tongue exposed in the corner of her mouth. This was her game face. I can
still recall how delighted I was tossing the ball with Mom and hearing the
comments from my friends and neighbors: "Where did your mother learn to
throw a ball like that?" My
mother, you see, was a jock long before Title IX unleashed the explosion of
modern women's athletics. She lettered in field
hockey and basketball while attending Hofstra
University in the late 1930s. This
was a time when it wasn't very fashionable for women to go running alter a
ball and work up a sweat. Luckily for me, Mom never
worried about what was fashionable. She loved
sports, loved being active and, most of all, loved the competition. Mom was kind to her kids until we played ball. Then we'd notice this gleam in her eye, the broad grin
and the familiar tongue that told us she was ready for action and ready to
have some fim. No matter
what game she played, Mom had class. She played
hard, she laughed a lot and, win or lose, she was
always gracious. The
years have diminished Mom's physical abilities, as they would have for anyone
who is about to become an octogenarian. Her back is
a little bent, and she complains occasionally about her hip.
Het biggest concession to the aging process, however, is that she has
had to lighten up on her bowling ball. As a young
mother in suburban bowling leagues she toted a 15pound
ball, carried a 160 average and had a high game of 212. As
she's grown older, her scores have declined. In
recent years she's had to start using an eight-pound
ball, which she protests is too light and "doesn't give enough pin
action." For
years I have had to listen to my mother's perennial battle cry as she begins
each new bowling season-"This is the year I'm going to bowl a 200 game!" I've always smiled and nodded in agreement, which
was my way of acknowledging her determination. During
our regular Thursday-evening phone conversations (she bowls on Thursdays),
she gives me a frame-by-frame description of her games, and gripes that she
can't bowl the way she used to. She almost always
slips in the comment "I'm going to make 200 if it kills me.' I try to explain that she should be satisfied that
she is at least able to play the game. "Try to
make some concession to your age, Mom," I say. Of
course, she will have none of this talk and this year bought a 10-pound ball
in pursuit of her dream. Vince Lombardi would be
proud. A
week after she started bowling with her new ball, I called to check on her
progress. She no sooner said "Hi" than I
could tell something big had happened in her life. I
could feel the smile all the way from Hendersonville, N.C., to upstate New
York. I shouted, "You bowled a 200 game!"
knowing it could be the only reason for such a happy voice.
She corrected me: "Not a 200 game; I got a 220."
It was her highest score ever! She gave me a
strike-by-strike description of her game, and we both celebrated over the
phone. As she signed off and said her goodbyes, I
could still sense the smile on her face. Her grin mill probably fade in another month or two. After
some reflection, I am amazed by my mother's accomplishment.
Whether it is baseball, tennis, golf or even bowling, I have never
heard of anyone's peaking at 79. Yes, there is some
degree of luck in every game, but in Mom's case she had the best same of her
life because she persevered Mom's achievement has lifted her spirits and made
her feel young again. For someone who is too
frequently reminded that she can't do what she used to, this experience could
not have come at a better time in her life. I guess
I'm not surprised that I can still learn from Mom-that you are never too old
to dream and never too old to realize those dreams. I
am not surprised, either, that in our most recent calls she talks about
bowling a 250 game.
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