Tuesdays with Mother

Every Tuesday, for the past couple of months, my mother has been picking me up around 11:00 and driving us a few miles to an office park, where we have been attending a weekly financial class on investing and ageing. We normally arrive around 11:15, even though the class doesn't start until noon. Mother wants to  make sure she gets the parking spot closest to the front door. She has to use a walker, since her double knee-operation was a total bust. Just getting out of the car and into the building takes a tremendous amount of effort. I take the walker from the back seat and set it up outside of the driver's door. She throws her purse on the seat and grabs one of the handles and pulls herself out of the car. As we travel to the second floor in the elevator, she wonders if the class will be full today.

As we enter the investment company's door, the receptionist greets us by name. I say hello to her and to the little blue betta fish in the plastic bowl. Mother then indicates that she would like to go to the conference room, where the class is held. So far, we've been able to sit down, early, with only one exception. We make very mundane chit chat, as other senior citizen class members arrive. There are a few married couples, a group of 3 women, several single men and one man, with his 13-year old son. I don't know anybody's name. We wait for lunch to arrive - this is mother's primary motivation for attending the classes. It is a pretty good deal, information and a free lunch. The investment company holds these seminars in the hopes of finding new financial clients but there is no obligation. All-in-all, I suppose there are worse ways to spend the noon hour. Mother heard about these classes on the radio. The company has a once-a-week radio program on a local news-talk station. They buy their own time (called a pay-for-play show) and take phone calls from listeners. In the class, you can tell that the other students think of the teachers, Liz and Bill, as celebrities. They do a good job - I'll give them that. Using either power point slides or flip charts, they have discussed "high yield" stocks (aka junk bonds) and planning for long term health care, the volatility of the stock market and why it is better to stay in it for the long run.

The biggest lesson I've learned is that I AM SCREWED. So much money is required to stay in a long-term facility - from $4 to 9 THOUSAND dollars a month. If you are trying to do it all on Medicare, good luck. Apparently that only pays for 100 days of care. I sit in these classes, feeling a little like a fraud. I don't have much to my name, at all. And I will be unable to help provide for my mother's inevitable care. She has done everything "right". She worked at a job she hated for over 20 years in order to have a pension, etc. She tried investing, but made a critical error last year and wound up having to pay thousands and thousands of dollars in taxes this year, thus significantly dwindling her portfolio. And I know she is better off than a lot of people (definitely better off than any of her daughters). The amount of money needed to care for the elderly is exorbitant. I wish we could figure out a better system.

But, I am probably in my predicament for a reason. Through researching older US gold coins, I realize how little I care about money. I never thought about the burden of  wealth, until I started talking to coin collection dealers this week. Was this guy being honest with me? Was that one taking advantage of me because I am woman? Why did I have a hard time trusting these men when it wasn't even my money? I can't help but contemplate why we human beings place value on some things but not on others. A bouquet of tulips is sitting on the dining room table and I remembered learning about the Dutch tulip mania in the 1600's, when a single tulip bulb cost more than the average laborer's annual income. Many people were bankrupted in a few years when the tulip market crashed. In the late 1990's, Beanie Babies - small bean-filled toys that originally sold for about $5, were trading online for over a $100 a piece. The bottom fell out of that market, rather quickly.

I have always kept a 'piggy bank' of sorts. For many years, it was a pottery elephant, named Sydney. From time-to-time, I'd dump all of my coins out on my bed and count them. Sometimes I'd have up to $30 in there and I felt rich! Nowadays, I deposit my spare change in a green plastic pig. It has rarely held more than $5 before I cash it in. Right now, I think it is holding about 80 pennies as well as some dimes and a few quarters.

Anyway, after financial class, mother and I usually go grocery shopping or run some errands and then,  head back to her place, where I proceed to take care of some housework - vacuuming, doing laundry and dishes, planting a few flowers and feeding the birds.  Her mattress must be flipped and the bed made. Then, we have dinner. She likes to eat out at a "family restaurant" and bar called The Peachtree, because of their $8 dinner specials. She always buys dinner. She only eats the fish, and gets 2 sides. The side dishes MUST be placed in separate dishes and must not be on the same plate as the fish. NEVER put parsley on her plate - if it is there, she will send the food back! She always wants extra napkins and lemon in her water. Please bring a basket of bread and  the jelly. And, if they don't have peach preserves or marmalade, she would like some of that. Oh, and when you are filling up her hot tea, make sure you put hot water up to the brown line of the carafe. If not, she will SEND IT BACK. Not kidding. She knows what she wants and you'd better accommodate her, if you want to avoid any conflict. This is true for waitresses and daughters.

And that is the most difficult thing about Tuesdays with Mother. Avoiding conflict. Avoiding rage. Avoiding screaming. I believe she wants a harmonious visit but it is simply not in her nature to trust someone else's judgement. Especially her own daughter's. I don't want to sound like I don't love and appreciate my mother. I do. But, she sure doesn't make it easy.