When we were kids and there was a snowstorm we helped my step father shovel the steep hill which was our asphalt driveway. This was one of the few times we could be with our dad without our mother. We relished the opportunity.
Our mother would shout from the kitchen doorway "Come back, you'll get nauseous! You haven't had breakfast." But we wanted work to help our father get to work on time, and we loved it. We didn't feel the least bit nauseous and we weren't planning to.
Now I realize our mother had to be in control no matter what the situation was.
Later in the day when my father was at work my mother would get stuck trying to travel up the driveway. She'd gun the big ugly ford station wagon burning rubber making smoke and noise, melting the ice down to the pavement. My sister and I would roll our eyes. This would go on for 45 minutes.
Our mother had no respect for machines, people, animals or herself. Once she was pulled over by a cop who gave her a ticket for not getting out of his way while chasing a driver with his lights flashing and his siren on. She was adamant that she was faultless and laughed calling him the "little boy" who ticketed her. Weeks later she drove three hours to rural Massachusetts to contest the charge. This was a woman who was never wrong.
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