On my way to the desert, I stopped for a day to surprise my mother on Mother’s Day. This worked out well for me because she bought me tuna and new shoes. On a drive across town, on our way to the tuna and shoes, she turned toward me with a serious, confessional eye.
“Bubby, I need your help. Every time my phone rings it does that song that’s all like dit ditta dit dim bum dit beep – hell-o-moto and it just embarrasses me to death. All of my friends look at me and think I’m just a crazy nincompoop.”
“Really Mother? I’ve always sort of liked the hell-o-moto song. It has a real I’m ok with Japan kind of vibe you know?
“No, I do not like it. Please change my ring tone.”
“OK, let’s change your ring tone.”
From there I went through the list of tones available on her phone. By this time we were each sitting in the parking lot of Sam’s, doors each open, listening intently to ring tones. They each sounded like some variation of smooth lounge jazz played with a miniature kazoo. She rejected each one, with the esteemed taste she has become known for.
“You’re going to have to buy one online Mother. We have to go hi-fi.”
“Are they worth it? How expensive.”
“About three dollars. Yes they are worth it, today’s phones have the capability of playing the finest music recorded. Their speakers are opera-house quality. There are so many great ditties available online that the real question is why, and how, would you not have a hi-fi ring tone. If you want your friends to take you seriously, it’s a must.”
I began browsing through the music I thought she might like. I was scrolling through the Christian Rock section of her phone’s online browser when she said “Alright then, get me something cool.” So I stopped scrolling through the Christian Rock section. “Just pick something that makes you think of me, I trust you.”
So I did. I searched the entire time we were at Sam’s and for several hours afterward. In fact, it took me most of the time I was home to find the perfect hi-fi ring tone. As I left for the desert, I was noticeably drowsy because I had been up half the night finding that tone. But the search, the long journey, the inestimable wait is worth it. As my mother can attest.
A few days ago, I called my mother. Because I love her of course and because I needed some things. And right when she answered she said, with abrupt surprise and suspicion, “Hey, what did you put on my phone. Every time my phone rings my son-in-law just turns bright red and laughs.” This news was troubling. Had I picked the wrong song? Had I gone through all that trouble for an errant fate? Had I spent those three dollars on a song she didn’t want to hear? No. I held firm, I made the right decision. She would love it eventually. Someday, she would see.
“That song happens to be AC/DC’s finest cut, Mother. My brother-in-law only chuckles because your surprising aura and clear knowledge of 80’s rock leaves him nervous and giddy.”
“Thanks a lot bub. I knew you’d do this. You must think you’re pretty funny.”
There was a long, apologetic pause in which I smiled like a devil and tried my best to sound as if I genuinely thought she’d like it. I do think it’s right for her. My mom’s got attitude folks, and style. She walks into a room and if some serious metal riff isn’t playing through your head you’re probably looking at the wrong woman. After a moment or two, I asked her if she planned to keep it. “Well yeah, I’ve got a sense of humor.” My mother, she’s alright. I love her for simple reasons.