My mother is the one who instilled a love of classical music in me. She used to drag us to concerts when we were little and the Alabama Symphony Orchestra still performed at the Birmingham-Jefferson Civic Center. She used to boast that one year she and a friend sold the most season subscriptions in years...some time back in the 70s. I have a clipping from the Birmingham News of her in a swept-up elegant (if one can say that) almost-beehive, above an article about kicking off the ASO's season.
My favorite memory is of seeing Mrs. Major with her head thrown back, sound asleep, while the symphony performed Mozart in that enormous chamber, while my head rested against the incredible silkiness of Mother's mink coat. A gift from her parents, not her husband. I never understood that.
So if we bring Mother to Tulsa, I thought last night, as the Tulsa Symphony Orchestra performed Brahm's Variations on a Theme (Not By) Haydn, that she would just love coming to performances with us. Getting dressed up, going out at night, sitting in a darkened room, hearing graceful strings and tittering winds and booming brass, then standing in a long, long line for the restroom, then re-navigating the dozens of stairs they seem to have in the PAC, then driving home in the dark to be put to bed by me...
Oh, Lord. What a nightmare. So much work! Assuming she didn't trip in the darkened room. Assuming she didn't get confused and ask what was going on in a loud voice. Assuming she didn't get Sundowners and fret about being out after dark.
Sigh. Another reason to consider not bringing her to Tulsa. Or taking her anywhere if I do. Because if I do, there's no way Henry and I could enjoy having coffee after the performance with the musicians, and friends like Kim and Nancy, as we did last night. No, I'd be paying extra in babysitting and paying for her ticket and hoping she enjoyed the concert and wondering if it still meant anything to her.
But you know, I bet it will. When she was single a frenemy and she always got season tickets together. Mother couldn't find other friends to go with who weren't already going with their spouses, or who didn't hate the symphony. Her frenemy's husband was uncouth and didn't like the symphony. Mother really disliked that husband; evidently he behaved inappropriately in a variety of situations and people would complain about him to Mother.
Wow, if anyone figures out this is my blog I'm going to get in a lot of trouble.
Anyway, Mother always had trouble processing that friendship. I think basically the friend got on her nerves. Then, when Mother started exhibiting signs of illness, she became less and less able to deal with anything that set her on edge. I don't remember her being crazy whiny when I was a kid, although she may have just been mature and hid it from us kids. But she certainly became that way in her 40s, not long after her divorce...and if current research is true, possibly within the amount of time her earliest symptoms would have shown up. She was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's at 64, but had real symptoms in her late 50s. She bought long-term care insurance at 59: I wonder did she suspect she was getting it?
So when that friend tragically died of cancer, Mother was left without a friend to go to the Symphony with. I think, if she moves here, I'll take her with me.
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