Both of my parents, Sue and Sonny, were blessed with good humor.
They knew how to tell a good joke (often naughty ones) and were at the pinnacle of joy when they pranked each other. Not just on April Fool’s Day…but any day they could conjure a ‘gotcha’ moment.
I suspect their jokester common ground was one of their initial attractions. In ways unique to each, they exuded a subtle air of “watch me…something good is just around the corner”. They WERE watchable. Charismatic. In Sue’s case, often chaotic, but I learned that chaos and charisma can be very compatible. Until the clock runs out. It was a combo that worked for Sue for years until the pileup of unresolved issues morphed her infectious humor into hurtful distress signals. But when they were good – Sue and Sonny? They were very, very good. And when they were bad. You get the idea.
My sweet older sister Lisa stayed with us for Easter weekend, and we had a blast. Despite Lisa’s intellectual disabilities, she’s adept at channeling memorable moments from the past and yesterday she was in rare form and its musician Herb Alpert’s fault. 😉Not the first time this has happened…Lisa loves a good musical interlude to prompt memories.
Do you know Herb? Yesterday was his 89th birthday and as Lisa and I drove, her favorite oldies station played Sue’s favorite song EVER – the Burt Bacharach and Hal David tune, “This Guy’s in Love with You”. It was magically cued up and ready for us (thank you, Sue?) when we got in the car. Even better? It was a two-fer day, and the station played Herb’s original version of the song (a rare vocal for the talented musician) and then Dionne Warwick’s cover.
That’s all it took. In a blink, Lisa was transported back to the early 70’s and Sue’s love of Alpert’s album with the ‘whipped cream cover’ (see it in the graphic above). When Sue was in a good mood and feelin’ fine, she’d blast the album from the old school console stereo and pitch the album cover onto the groovy green floral sofa. Other times? Alpert was an antidote, helpful to Sue when she felt low or was covering up for a misdeed. Herb was our early warning system. The strains of the Tijuana Brass echoing through the house. Heck. Echoing through the whole neighborhood? Heads up, girls. Sue’s in one of two moods — good, good, good or watch out.
Lisa and I giggled about the lighthearted memories but when Dionne’s version began, Lisa became cloudy. She remembered how much our dad loved Dionne and the song “Do You Know the Way to San Jose”.
When there was no money to spare on “frivolities” (Sue’s word) Sonny bought Lisa and I a used organ and the easy peasy sheet music to learn how to play his favorite song. Sue was livid. She hated his generosity and big gesture – I think mostly because she had no part in it. Sue’s fury ran deeper than anger about the expense. Jealousy? As a kid I couldn’t tell. I still can’t. Lisa felt the tension, too and yesterday, instead of remembering our dad’s love of the song, she began weeping about the episode and the epic arguing.
Still driving, I tried to maneuver Lisa toward sunshine. The Sonny aspects of her memory. I said:
“Isn’t it wonderful that mom’s favorite song was waiting for us to hear in the car today? And then one of dad’s favorites, too? They’d want us to remember them and the good stuff. How music made both of them happy. “
That seemed to help. Lisa pivoted to memories about their hilarious pranks as she thought ahead to today – April Fool’s Day. There are times when I feel I am dancing as fast as I can to receive Lisa’s waves of melancholy, ever ready to find routes to redirect, if needed. Lisa finding her own way to thoughts about our parents, the pranksters, was a sign of her continuing growth.
As we drove, I listened. Lisa loves being the storyteller and it takes a lot to get a complete memory out of her. She needs frequent recognition and encouragement to keep her recall in motion or she will lose her way and simply stop speaking. Momentum moments matter. When people are new in Lisa’s life, I remind them of her need for encouragement. For years she felt less than and unheard and she still carries those inferior feelings with her. “Yes, yes, go on”, I say to urge her forward. I’m listening. I’m here.
Thank goodness we still had miles to go before our car trip would conclude. Lisa needed all the minutes as she remembered April Fool’s Day shenanigans. Like the time Sue swapped Sonny’s beloved white button-down work shirts for exact duplicates – two sizes too small. Oh my! And the time Sonny made Sue’s favorite late-night snack – frozen chocolate covered bananas but used giant dill pickles instead of bananas.
By the time I dropped Lisa off at her group home, we looked crazy. Lisa’s face was red and puffy from laughing and crying and the remainder of my morning mascara was all over my face – charcoal, telltale tear tracks. I pulled out some tissues. Lisa blew her nose and took a swig of water – still giggling – and I cleaned up my racoon eyes.
Walking into her house, her roommates were there with big smiles and Happy Easter hugs. Lisa’s friends, each disabled in their own way but miraculous in others offer genuine love and affection. Not just toward Lisa but her “little sister”. Me. I felt the tears welling again as Lisa said, “Oh, I had a great time. Wait til I tell you all about it.” I didn’t know if Lisa meant the adventures we had cooking and baking while she stayed with us for Easter or the adventure we had in the car, but it didn’t matter.
Headed home, I settled in behind the wheel in and turned the radio on again. I should’ve been more prepared. Sue popped in from the great beyond to say hello, why wouldn’t Sonny? His “theme song”, “Sunny” greeted me which was enough to prompt more tears. Happy stuff. Hello, Dad. Happy Easter to you, too. But the second song that played as I drove? Simple Minds “Don’t You Forget About Me”.
When The Breakfast Club debuted in 1985, my dad mentioned that he thought it was just another John Hughes movie about high school brats (maybe, maybe not) but I remembered his comment about liking the Simple Minds song. The tune but especially these lyrics:
Don’t you forget about me
I’ll be alone, dancing you know it baby
Going to take you apart
I’ll put us back together at heart, baby
Don’t you forget about me
Don’t don’t don’t don’t
Don’t you forget about me
As you walk on by
Will you call my name?
That memory? I needed to pull over for a moment to gather myself and listen to the whole song. Happy, but overwhelmed. What are the odds that my parents as pranksters paid tandem visits with musical magic? I don’t know. I don’t care. I felt they said hi…we’re with you. Love you. And that’s plenty good.
Vicki 🥰
P.S. Click here for more about my book, “Surviving Sue”. I’m grateful for the great reviews on Amazon and Goodreads…and the wonderful questions from thoughtful readers. I welcome more! If you’ve enjoyed the book and my story, please pass along your positivity to a fellow reader.
Victoria Ponders 
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