When The Phone Rings

George Schroeder: If it’s Collin Raye belting out ‘Little Rock,’ it’s time to savor making time for Mom

By George Schroeder

Posted to Web: Sunday, May 10, 2009 11:07PM

Appeared in print: Sunday, May 10, 2009, page C7

Sports: Columnists: Story

The phone calls always seem to come at random times. If the ringtone is a song about my hometown, I know Mom is on the other end of the line.

She loves to talk. Loves talking with me. Loves me. I understand these things, and I love Mom, too. Love talking with her.

But sometimes, I have to confess, I’m not a good listener. Mom can take the daily routine and spin it into a story that lasts a half-hour and includes all the whos and whys in there with the whats, whens and wheres.

Especially now that we’ve moved halfway across the country, no detail is too insignificant. And occasionally during those conversations, I’ve drifted away to other things.

Maybe you can relate. If so, savor those phone calls. Because maybe they won’t always come.

Two weeks ago, I got another call from home.

“Mom is very sick,” my sister said, and it was clear she was very frightened.

A few hours later, they took Mom to the emergency room. For the next few days, I thought I’d lost her.

We honor Mom today, which is only right. She nursed us, and nurtured us, and no one ever loved us quite like she did.

When you came home from school, crying because of a scraped knee, she applied the Band-Aid, made the hurt go away. When you called home from college, hurting over a broken heart, she applied the Band-Aid, made the hurt go away.

And if you’re like me, not much changed when you grew up. When life happened, you wanted to talk with Mom. Somehow, just listening, she could make the hurt go away.

That’s what moms do. That’s what we often take for granted — except, maybe, for one day a year.

On Mother’s Day, we deliver flowers or send cards. We call our moms, or go to church with them, then treat them to Sunday lunch. We make sure they know how much we love and appreciate them. And it’s good that we do. Great that we can.

Because two weeks ago, I lost my Mom — and then found her again.

The trip to the E.R. became several days in the hospital. Mom is 65, going on 50. But she had suffered a seizure, and suddenly she wasn’t able to concentrate, or to communicate.

The symptoms resembled bits and pieces of a stroke, and Alzheimer’s, though thankfully it was neither. The root cause, they said, was probably a severe electrolyte imbalance. The result was as if Mom had fallen into a deep, dark hole and couldn’t get out.

I felt the same way.

I tried to remember the last time she’d called — sometime the week before — and what we’d talked about. If I’d really listened.

And I wondered if I’d get another chance.

Although the doctors kept saying they thought she would make a full recovery, there wasn’t much progress for a while, and for the better part of a week there wasn’t much anyone could do except wait, and pray.

Then one day, Mom was better — and so were we. But we packed up and flew home to Little Rock to see her anyway. And one recent morning, Mom and I sat together, just talking. It was one of the best days of my life.

Today, we’re all going to church with Mom, and then we’ll have Sunday dinner together, the whole family. A special day seems more special than usual.

Send flowers today, and spend time with your mom. Write a note and tell her you love her, and why. But don’t stop there.

Next week, and next month, savor those random calls, and those rambling conversations. You never know when the phone will stop ringing.

A few days ago, the phone started singing about my hometown in Arkansas. Mom had plenty to say.

I had plenty of time to listen.

Email: george.schroeder@registerguard.com.

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