Mother's Day dinner long and tasty journey

The lovely Miss Wendy and I had a splendid Mother’s Day, walking away the morning with our daughter Lauren along the Chattahoochee, then meeting up for dinner with Lauren and our son-in-law Josh, our machatunim – trust me here, it’s a Jewish thing – Janice and Steve, and Janice’s mom and sister.

There were a few challenges. The surging crowd around Wildfire, an upscale steakhouse in our little corner of the world, looked like a scene pulled from a World War II movie – everyone a bit frantic and worried as they approached the border and possible freedom. Apparently the restaurant was overbooked and understaffed.

A few random numbers capture the problem. Wendy and I, wanting to run a few errands, left home around 5 p.m. We had a 6:30 reservation and had no problem making it to Wildfire on time. We finally got seated along with the rest of our party at 7:15, but it was another 45 minutes before the first bit of food – a platter of cornbread – was served. We limped out of the restaurant three hours after entering and made it back home just in time to watch the 10 o’clock news. For those keeping track, that would be five hours from start to finish; a reasonable amount of time for open heart surgery or running an ultra-marathon.

All the news, fortunately, wasn’t bad. After a short caucus, those with voting rights unanimously agreed to go with something called the “Club Supper Menu”, a family-style feast that was served in waves – appetizers, salads, entrees, sides and desserts. The food, once it landed on our table, was warm, plentiful and tasty.

Highlights included spinach and artichoke fondue and fresh mozzarella, tomato and basil pizza; salad bowls of the Greek and chopped persuasion; cedar planked salmon and prime rib; redskin mashed potatoes and balsamic roasted veggies; triple layer chocolate cake and, the piece de resistance, key lime pie! Can you say yummy?

It’s been months since I’ve allowed myself the tasty and sensual pleasure of carbs, but it was all for a good cause. Mother’s Day only comes around once a year and, heck, luxuriating in a three-hour meal with family and friends was worth fighting our way across the border. Next year, however, I’m looking for a little bistro in neutral territory; perhaps Rick's Café Américain!

PIECE DE RESISTANCE: Wildfire’s Key Lime Pie (photo above) was a bit of heavenly cream, with a nice citrusy kick, atop a thick graham cracker crust.

A special Mother's Day wish

I received an e-mail this week that had a chain-letter vibe about it. Generally such stuff has me reaching for the delete button. But I took a moment and read through the note and couldn't help but think it landed in my mailbox for a reason.

Today is Mother's Day, one very special day for all of us to salute our Moms and thank them for, well, being motherly.

The problem I'll have this year is that my Mom is sliding into a fog, vaguely aware that I'm her son, but not at all certain about the details. If she's having a good day she'll smile and chat awhile, then grow distant and perhaps a bit agitated.

The cards from me and my brothers and other family members will go unread, the flowers unnoticed. The fog thickens and soon she will be lost.

That's the truth my family lives with each day. It's the painful reality that many other families also share.

With that as context, here's a slice of the e-mail I received.

It was a very busy morning, when an elderly gentleman arrived to have stitches removed from his thumb. He said he was in a hurry, that he had an appointment at 9 a.m.

A nurse took his vital signs and had him take a seat, knowing it would be over an hour before someone would see him. Then she saw him looking at his watch and decided she would go ahead and evaluate his wound. Turns out the thumb was in good shape and it was a quick and simple procedure to remove his sutures and redress the wound.

After finishing up, the nurse asked if he had another doctor's appointment since he seemed in a hurry. The man said he did have an appointment, not with a doctor, but with his wife at a nearby nursing home. He quietly reported she was suffering with Alzheimer's and he made it a point to spend time with her each day.

The nurse then asked if his wife would be upset if he was late.

Not really, the elderly gentleman replied, explaining that his wife no longer recognized him.

Shocked, the nurse asked: "And you still go every morning, even though she doesn't know who you are?" The man smiled as he responded, "She doesn't know me, but I still know her."

As I said, the story has sort of a chain-letter feel about it. The situation is just a little too perfect, the quotes just a little too poignant.

And yet, in the very near future I fear I'll be sitting next to a woman who will no longer know me. Perhaps on a really good day she'll look my way and for an instant she'll recall fondly that this middle-aged man was the boy who once upon a time called her Mama.

For that moment and the thousands of others that have played out over the last six decades of my life, "Happy Mother's Day" Mom. Here's hoping it's a "good" one.