#34

It was very difficult to bring myself to write happy, funny anything yesterday, so I simply skipped it.  I suffer a tremendous amount of pain when my Chicago Bears lose, especially when they play so polar opposite of the week before.  I take it harder than a person should, but then again, I guess that is what it means to be a fan. 

Despite my sadness something happened last Thursday that has to do with the Chicago Bears and it was one of those feel good moments, the kind of moment that takes your breath away.

My mother and father got divorced this past February.  However, my mom had been out of the house for over a year prior to that.  She was staying at my Uncle Chucks house, which worked out good for her and him, since he was having trouble selling it.  Anyway, she went and did something she has never done in her life, made a major purchase.  After 60+ years she became a first time homeowner.  It was the first thing she has ever personally owned alone and I am very proud of her for it. 

HOWEVER, her new house is considerably smaller than her old one, so there was some major purging that needed to take place, because there is no way it is all going to fit into her new home.  I for one am grateful.  My mom is a clothes hoarder.  She may not appreciate that statement, but it is the truth.  She loves clothes.  Trust me; there are worse things to hang on to.  But the other problem is that my mom’s weight has fluctuated for at least the past 9 years…so of course, you have to have various pieces in various sizes.  First and foremost I am very proud of her for getting rid of and donating at least 60-70% of her clothes to the Salvation Army.  She is ready to downsize and simplify her life and I for one am ecstatic. 

I started helping her last Thursday as the Salvation Army planned to come today to take everything she wanted to donate and that was tremendously helpful.  I was given the task of cleaning out one of her many closets.  She said she didn’t want any of it, she had already moved all the clothes she wanted.  I didn’t believe this for a minute, so used my judgment when deciding what would go and what she should keep.  Occasionally she would flitter in and I would confirm with her what went and what stayed.

At the very bottom on the floor was a pile of Chicago Bears clothes.  Uh…excuse me, these are not going anywhere, I don’t care if you never wear them, they are going with you.  Oh yes, she says, for the love, don’t get rid of those.  Whew…for a minute I got all hot and sweaty and my heart raced and I thought for sure I might pass out.

I continued to bag up clothes and made it to her drawers which had not been touched.  Dear Lord Mother you want to get rid of all of these socks?  Undershirts, and pj’s?  Oh, dear, no, I need to go through them.  Uh, no you don’t.  You will take them home and go through them, the time to donate is now, if you don’t have time you best take them home and deal with it later.  Ok fine…at this point she was getting very agitated with me, but we had a lot to do.

I should also mention that when I was taking all of her socks, undies, shirts, etc. out, in every single drawer is a small pocket knife with a price tag on it stating is was $1.47.  I am like, Mother, what in the sam hell are you doing with a pocket knife in every drawer.  Well, apparently Terry was worried about her safety when and if she was home alone, so he stashed one in every drawer…he didn’t know which drawer she would be able to get to fastest.  In a very strange and bizarre way that is sweet and sincere.  And yet, in a totally different way it is rather disturbing.  But who I am to judge, I just want to get her out of this house.

At the very bottom of this built in dresser in the closet is a Ziploc bag and all I can see is a Snoopy Hat and something that says Chicago Bears.  Well, duh, she must have wanted to preserve one of her shirts so I put it in the save pile.  It was not unlikely to find many of her items in bags and or with fabric softener sheets all over inside.

Much later in the day as we are bagging stuff up, I said hey, what are this Bears thing and the snoopy hat, something you want to keep?  Well, she says, open it…

When I opened this Ziploc bag a wave of emotions ran through me so fast I had to sit down.  Somehow, somewhere, my mom had found my Walter Payton jersey from when I was a very little girl.  Sadly when I was young and naïve to the ways of the world, I cut the sleeves off as they bothered me.  It was an authentic NFL jersey sold by Sears.  The only thing I have probably never cut the tag out of.  Sleeves yes, but not the tag.  The snoopy hat was one of my brothers’ favorite stocking caps.

I said how on earth did you find this?  She had found them both many, many years ago and put them in the baggie.  I didn’t even know it still existed.  She had had it in her armoire at home for as long as she could remember.  She said, the one day your father gave me to get my things; I ran across it and took it before he got ahold of it.

This jersey, as I am holding it up to me, stops midway down my belly and just barely goes over my shoulders.  And it smelled exactly as I remembered it.  I never, ever took this thing off.  Ever.  34 has been my favorite # for as long as I can remember.  Walter Payton was my hero.  I wanted to run like him and juke like him and, well although I could never do any of those things, I pretended, every night, after school in my backyard.  I wore this jersey until I could not wear it any longer and for every single Bears game.  Even though it probably didn’t fit, I am sure it was with me during the Super Bowl Shuffle Days.

I said I was taking it to have framed.  She put her head down and said ok, and I think she was a little sad, so I will probably give it back.  Obviously she wants to hang on to our childhood as well.

I asked her how long I have been a Bears fan and she said as long as you were old enough to sit in front of the TV.  No one persuaded me to be, I just was.  She said it was an obsession I have hung on to for many, many years.  Good to know.

So I guess every once in a while, it is a good idea to clean out your closets.  It was less finding the thing that struck me as much as it did her reaction to me finding it and why she had kept it. 

There was no crying, no tears, no sadness…just a really awesome feeling of my mom picking out something that meant so much to me as a child, that she herself couldn’t part with.

So this story may not be funny, but it is happy and heartwarming…right?