i was going to reluctantly diss (whatever the hell that means) California today, even though this state gets all sorts of dissing (?) from people who really don’t have a clue but think they do, but then i recalled something similar elsewhere.

A couple of days ago, i bought an all-tournament pass for the NCAA men’s golf championship at La Costa. The daily passes were $8, the final day was $12, and my all-tournament tickets were $36.

Now the first strange thing was when i acquired the tickets. The single day tickets are available through the NCAA, and, i assume, at the gate. But the all-tournament ticket package can only be acquired through the University of Texas athletic site. My contact with Vanderbilt athletics, Andrew Maraniss who has written several great books about athletes, including Strong Inside: Perry Wallace and the Collision of Race and Sports in the South. Andrew told me the University of Texas was the “sponsor” of the tournament being held in California. Go figure.

But i am excited. i will be going to watch men’s college golf for most of the day. Vanderbilt, who won the Indiana regional in a cake walk, is one of the favored teams, and a number of their team members are competing for the individual championship. Pumped. i’m pumped. In addition, i will get to see Candice Lee, the Vanderbilt Vice-Chancellor of Athletics, the incredible woman who was a force in Vandy honoring my mother for her basketball feats (in 1935). i also will get to meet Mark Carter, Candice’s Senior Associate Athletic Director.

i’m ready to go. i will leave after the commuter traffic dies down tomorrow morning (it’s about an hour to the course from out in the Southwest corner).

Now for the kicker: my ticket for five days of golf was $36. For the first four days, i’ve been given locations to park and take a shuttle to the course. Fine. But on the championship day, the only parking apparently is at the course. Parking will cost $40, or $48 for valet parking. What?

i was thinking, yeah, yeah, California. But then, i remembered going to Nashville about a dozen years ago and the Marriott at Vanderbilt charging $40 to park in their garage. Stupid.

i don’t care. It’s stupid. The world is chasing money. But tomorrow, i’m on an experience that i could never imagine would happen.

Go ‘Dores.

I have written and spoken often of the gremlins that inhabited the evaps (distilling plants) when i was the CHENG (Chief Engineer) of the USS Hollister (DD 788). i fervently believe they leapt onto my shoulders when i was relieved and been with me ever since 1975.

These past few days, they were in the mood for financial pranks. Several weeks ago, my debit card for our primary financial instrument, a credit union, mysteriously turned up missing. i have no idea of how it got out of my wallet. i think the gremlins might have had something to do with it.

So i ordered a new debit card. It came about a week ago. i used it at the ATM when i chose to withdraw some cash, choosing one of two of our checking accounts. Then, i went through the same drill this weekend, only to have no option on which checking account to effect the transaction. Puzzled, i went to the institution’s office today to inquire.

Two of the four stations were manned by very pretty young women dressed to the nines. The one who invited me to her station, smiled and was very efficient. i explained the option of choosing the check account for the withdrawal had not been available. She smiled and explained that was not an option, that each card was for one checking and one savings account. When i pointed out i had been given the option to choose between accounts for, oh since i got a debit account over 15 years ago, she politely insisted that wasn’t possible, she consulted the other teller who agreed with her: one checking account, one savings account for each card.

i then wondered how i had that option since forever and said it must be because i’m old (i’ve been a member since 1968). She laughingly agreed that might be the reason. I told her she didn’t have to agree. She said, “The customer is always right.” We laughed.

Then she told me she could give me a debit card for the account i normally use for withdrawals. i agreed. She created the card, effected it, and instructed me to go outside and withdraw some money from the ATM, adding to come back and let her know if it didn’t work.

i went outside, started the process. The ATM asked me which account i wanted to use. i laughed, withdrew the money. i went back inside around the waiting lines and motioned to the young woman. When she acknowledged, i told her i just wanted her to know the ATM gave me both accounts for options. We both laughed. As i left, i told her that i think it’s because i’m old.

Those damn gremlins are laughing.

i am alone.

Maureen is not here. Yeah, yeah, i know, it’s only five days. But the last couple of nights i felt alone.

i cooked my own meals, i did that for about six years a long time and am…er, capable, but i can’t find anything in the kitchen. The kitchen is hers now. i am a stranger.

i took care of her cats. They like me when she’s not here. After all, i feed them. They like me to give them a little attention, but it pales to their affection for Maureen.

Last night, i was sitting in the family room with only my reading light on. i put down the computer and just sat there thinking, reflecting, something i am not accustomed to doing although it has become more frequent in short moments as i age. As i reflected on life, i caught a movement across the room. It was likely just a reflection from outside. i started to talk to her. She was not there.

i make the bed in the morning, something she does as i am always up much earlier. The first morning, i started making her coffee before realizing she wasn’t there. We talk and text several times each day. i’m glad she’s having fun but it’s not the same here.

Finally, i fixed the hiccup in my get-a-long. She’s coming back Sunday. i conjured up a memory, when i was single again in College Station, Texas. As my former wife and i were struggling to cut the ties while minimizing the negatives for our young daughter. i had bought a small home. After my day at the NROTC unit at Texas A&M, i would change into my running gear, put the potatoes to bake in the oven, and then go on a five-mile run. When complete, i would feed the three-legged cat and the Old English Sheepdog. Then, i would pull out the cast iron hibachi, prep it with charcoal, light it, and close it for the funnel effect to get the coals roaring. i would take a shower, clean up, put the steak on the hibachi and make a salad. Toast with butter and a glass of wine completed the meal. i was in a good place and didn’t know it.

So tonight, i did some modifications from about seven years of bachelorhood before Maureen and i were wed. i cut corners by buying a grocery deli potato salad rather than baking a potato. i was tired of beef, so i grilled a pork chop, with the jim jewell marinade, which will never be duplicated since i won’t remember what sounded good to me tonight. A salad, sautéed mushrooms and onions for the pork chops, Maureen’s incredible bread, toasted with butter completed the serving with a delightful zinfandel.

i still got it.

But i still miss her.

There aren’t many around today. Phones with cameras and the almighty web and cloud have. pretty much wiped them out except for marketing.

My paternal grandmother, Carrie Myrtle Orrand Jewell, had book of postcards, which surprisingly contained mostly postcards. Somehow, i ended up with it. Several years after my grandfather passed away, Mama Jewell moved out of the family on on East Spring Street and moved into my aunt and her family’s home across the street from our home on Castle Heights Avenue. After my grandmother had passed and my Aunt Naomi Martin was in her nineties, the latter gave Mama Jewell’s boxes of memorabilia to her son, Maxwell Martin, my cousin. Maxwell, in turn, gave the boxes to my father, who in his mid-nineties gave the boxes to me.

The album itself has a spot on family room table. It has a padded cloth cover and is about 14 inches tall, 10 inches wide, and over two inches thick with thick, black pages holding the post cards. There a couple of pressed flowers inside. It looks like an antique. It is.

Scuffling around, i found four postcards that had fallen out of the album and ended up in one of my office piles. Unlike most of the postcards, these were not sent Mama by someone else. She apparently acquired them because she liked how they represented her home town, my home town.

Ahh, memories:

There were a lot of good things about those old days.

Tomorrow, i will take Maureen to Et Violà for a pre fixe Mother’s Day brunch. i will give her a small gift thanking her for what a wonderful mother she has been for our two daughters.

i am thinking of pinning one of her white roses on my jacket. It was a lovely tradition at the First Methodist Church in Lebanon, Tennessee when i was growing up, as well as elsewhere i’m sure. On Mother’s Day back then, everyone wore a rose to honor their mother, a red one for mothers who were still alive and a white one for mother’s who had crossed that rainbow bridge. It is a tradition i wish we still observed.

Thinking about it, in addition to my own Mother (capitalized because we always called her “Mother,” not “Mom”), i have had a number of mothers in my life. i wish to honor them by shutting up and posting some photos:

Mama Jewell: i was six years old when she passed away, but i can still remember her love. When in the first grade, i got in a fight with another first grader on my front lawn. Mama Jewell lived across the street and and saw the fight from her front window. She called my other grandmother who was keeping me while Mother was at work. She made sure Granny knew the other boy started the fight (i won).

Granny Prichard. She had five children, 13 grandchildren, and was the “house mother” for an untold number of boarding cadets at Castle Heights Junior School. She loved them all and cared for them all. She was the attending nurse that helped Dr. Charles Lowe deliver me. And there was a special bond between her and this great granddaughter.

My Aunt Bettye Kate Hall. She never had children but she was a second mother to every child in our family. She is with her nephews, Bill and Tim Prichard, in Florida.

Blythe Jewell Gander. My daughter who is the best possible mother in the world for my grandson Sam.

Kathie Lynch Jewell. The mother of Blythe whose love for Blythe, our grandson Sam, and son-in-law Jason was wonderful to see.

Maureen Boggs Jewell. She has been unbelievable in her unconditional love for Blythe, Sarah, Jason, and Sam. i take joy in watching her being a mother to all of them.

Estelle Jewell. She was an incredible woman even if it’s her eldest son describing her as such. i don’t think i’ve ever known a woman who worked as hard as she did. She was strict, demanding, and always loving. She was also one of my best friends. And there are not many people in this world who have a smile like that.

Happy Mother’s Day to all of you out there who deserve so much because you have given so much to us.