Mom’s in reasonably good health, living with one of her daughters and one of her granddaughters in North Carolina. It was great getting to see her several times this summer as she visited Binghamton, her hometown, and Albany. I don’t see her nearly enough, with her down in NC and us in the Empire State.
Since her birthday is always during the week of the Great American Smokeout, I’ll tell you one story on the topic. My mother never smoked, though my father did when I was growing up. One day, my mother purloined a pack of my father’s Winstons and my sister Leslie and I talked with her about smoking. (Baby sister Marcia was probably in bed by then.) So, we sat around the kitchen table and attempted to smoke cigarettes, the three of us. Naturally, we all just coughed. But neither Leslie or I really ever became smokers.
So, see, you did well, Mom. Happy birthday from your favorite son.
