The bed-and-breakfast-like hotel is quaint. It seems like a medieval chateau or someplace Shakespeare would write sonnets by candlelight. Wicked-cool! She got us the “president’s suite” for a bargain. She was a hotel manager and knows how to talk to other hotel managers. It’s cool. We did laugh a bit. It has a long bar with many barstools. Two big plasma screen TV’s. It has a living room with a wrap-around couch and mirrors all along one wall. It also has pictures of Marilyn Monroe and Holly Golightly (the only thing missing is Liza Minnelli and Barbara on the ceiling!). It has a Jacuzzi and even something that looks like a professional dancer’s pole near the bar. It’s a gas watching a 70’something year-old mom pretend she is Charo singing “oochie-coochie” on the Merv Griffin Show. We had fun eating things we ought not eat while watching Nancy Grace excoriate murderous tot moms. 1 snafu: there was only 1 bed. Sleeping with my mom was cute when I was 4, not 4 decades later. I went foraging for supplies.
I headed downstairs to the Hotel California’s frontdesk to speak with the nightman to grovel for a pillow, a sheet, and a blanket to sleep on the big couch in the big room with the big TV. He looked like the mullet-sporting, skeleton-looking guy from Rocky Horror Picture Show. I think his name was Norman Bates. He walked me into a creepy closet and walked me up the creepy stairs back into my creepy room. It was creepy. I’m glad he didn’t tuck me in. Tourists come from all over to see this haunted hotel. I ignored all the stories parishioners have told me and kept repeating the mantra, “I don’t believe in spooks; I don’t believe in spooks!” I don’t; I guess. I have seen neither split pea soup flying across the room nor tables blocking exits thus far. If I had I would have checked our long ago; we are spook free!
It’s good to have my Italian/Portuguese mother here, even if it is a weird room. I can hear her sleeping as I type. Being the youngest of 5, I know I will know her the shortest time compared to my older sibs. I am a tad jealous. Having a newborn reminds me of how much I love her as I know she looked at me the way I look at my 2 kids. And if she looked at me the way she looks at my 10-week old, then I was a very happy infant. I have never seen such love in a woman’s eyes beside my wife for our kids. Jr. did not come from Lou’s womb, well, not directly—maybe there is something to that.
I am thankful for my wife too. She has inner-contentment and serenity. What other woman would rent a room for her husband and mother-in-law to get some “alone time”. My wife has fun with my mom and me, but says, “I see my family all the time, but you’re lucky to see you mom once a year”. I could have had a wife who was jealous or insecure with my mom’s closeness with me, instead, she encourages it. I hope Kerry reaps what she sows inheriting a daughter-in-law who encourages a fond relationship with our son and my wife Kerry. I pray she looks back and smiles that our son took the good from his old man and found a girl a little like his mom. I pray my future 40+ boy has as much fun with Kerry as I had “doing nothing” with my mom tonight. Let’s cherish the time with our parents while we can. We don’t know how much time we will have with them or the “facilities” we will enjoy, with them, or us.