My Mother

My mother raised my four sisters and me by herself. She instilled a strong worth ethic, morals and compassion for others. She raised us to judge an individual based on character, not by race or gender. Whatever good I possess is rooted in my mother’s teachings and unbelievable love.

I remember my mom taking me to my first baseball practice at the age of 7 and my hiding behind her crying as she talked to Coach Al Holloway because I was so painfully shy.

I remember her transporting me to every baseball practice after leaving the day shift at the Teletype (later AT&T) plant and then going home to cook dinner.

I remember her making every game I played, unless she worked the night shift.

I remember her getting a pillow and kneeling on her knees to catch for me as I practiced pitching in our back yard.

I remember her thinking of her family before herself.

I remember her waking me up and having my clothes laid out every morning during my first years in grade school.

I remember it being just her and me in the house after my sisters moved out in the fourth grade.

I remember going to the Shack BBQ restaurant in downtown Little Rock as a kid and only being allowed to get a pork sandwich instead of beef because it was five cents cheaper.

I remember in the sixth grade at Cloverdale Elementary getting out of school at 2:55 and running to the bike rack and riding as fast as I could the one mile home, so I could see my mom for five minutes before she left for the night shift which began at 3:30.

I remember her taking me fishing at the lake at Boyle Park.

I remember her taking me to see the Arkansas Travelers at Ray Winder Field.

I remember what a treat it was when she and I went to eat at the McDonald’s on University Avenue.

I remember her working either the night or graveyard shift and still coming to our second grade classroom to observe on parent day.

I remember her helping me with my homework despite working all day and making our family dinner.

I remember her never complaining.

I remember her, along with my sister and brother-in-law, taking me to my first Razorbacks game against North Texas State on Oct. 28, 1972.

I remember the Razorbacks brought so much joy to my mother until the very day of her passing.

I remember her resorting to tidying up the house during a Hog basketball or football game, unable to watch because the games made her too nervous.

I remember taking her to Bud Walton Arena in 1993 for the Delaware State game and seeing her bob her head to the music of the Razorback pep band.

I remember her praying that I meet someone like my wife, Megan, so I would have someone to share my life with and stand beside me during difficult times.

I remember as a teenager going to her bedroom and laying on her bed to talk to her about the day as she read the paper before going to sleep.

I remember her being so proud when I was hired to write two columns a week for the Arkansas Democrat Gazette and cutting out every column and article I ever wrote and saving them.

I remember calling her every Thursday night after being on the Shawn and Wally Show and discussing the show. She even recorded the shows so she could listen to them later.

I remember taking her an autographed Shawn and Wally t-shirt and seeing her smile because she loved listening to them so much.

I remember her being apprehensive about moving from a townhouse to a much smaller style apartment at The Cottages at Otter Creek, but how she absolutely adored living there the last seven years of her life.

I remember her looking forward to playing games in the community room with her beloved friends every Tuesday, Thursday and Friday afternoon.

I remember taking her out to lunch for her 76th birthday and making sure she was back home in time to play her coveted games.

I remember being able to call her if I ever needed a lift and feeling everything would be alright after speaking with her.

I remember calling her every night before she went to bed to say goodnight and that I loved her. I’ll miss making that call.