March 10, 2011

A memory

Yesterday, it crossed my mind that I didn't remember the name of a young man who lived with us when our girls were teens.  Several teens lived with us at one time or another, including our SIL.  This boy was a bit different, because when our daughter approached me about him moving into our home, it was - Mom, Mike's getting out of jail next week, and his Dad won't let him come home.  He doesn't have anywhere else to go, can he live here?  

We had the room and I didn't feel I could discriminate against him, so I said, Sure.  It wasn't easy saying, Sure, but it was the right thing to do.  After all, in spite of his record he was still a kid.

I remember his father phoning me and berating me, for giving his son a roof over his head.  I reminded his father that we had the room and my husband was LAPD, and it was our home.  I also remember how grateful Mike was, and how he followed our house rules.  I was impressed when he got up from the dinner table and automatically took care of cleaning up the kitchen, (not a house rule).

I talked to Sharon, yesterday, and asked her to refresh my memory of his name, and tell me how he was doing, now that he's 40.  I wish I could tell you that my saying Sure, turned his life around, and his future was a bed of roses, but that would be fiction.  He had some rocky years, and a bad marriage; but he has turned his life around, and now is in a stable relationship and working as a ironworker.  I told Sharon to give him my best and to tell Mike I was thinking about him.
Thanks for stopping by, we enjoyed having you,


  1. huh, I wonder why I have absolutely no memory of that at all? it's totally blocked. gone. weird.

  2. Amazing...another way we are alike. We had kids living in our house...high school friends with problem families, and foster kids. Our kids also have no memory of some of them.


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