I knew when my mom put a bedsheet on the couch, it was going to be a sick day. The living room became a hospital room for a day or two.
My mom would get my pillows and blanko off my bed and bring them downstairs. She would position one of those fold-out TV tables within reach of her sick Pumpkinhead.
The first sick day was usually interrupted by a visit to the doctor’s office. I hated getting shots, but looking back, my mom became even more giving and caring after I got one.
She would usually come out of the drugstore with my antibiotics, then sneak next door to Kresge’s and buy me a treat.
That was back when a pharmacy was for medicine stuff. If you wanted a Wiffle ball bat, a comb, or baseball cards, you went to Kresge’s.
Then Walgreens destroyed the neighborhood with its liquor, hairspray, and pharmacy all in one place.
Even after getting a shot, I would return to my living room triage center with a new word-find book, a comic book, and a baseball magazine as my reward for being a big-boy.
My living room bed was all mine until my dad got home. I could watch Ray Rayner, Bozo’s Circus, and cartoonies all morning.
In the afternoon, I watched Days of Our Lives with my mommy.
As much as I hated watching a soap opera, I would give anything to watch that hourglass show one more time with her.
“Like sand through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives.”
I can still hear Macdonald Carey’s voice.
Then the Oldman would get home from work and commandeer the television. He would turn on Fahey Flynn, Joel Daly, and John Drury. They would talk about boring things like Watergate, Vietnam, Mayor Daley, and gas shortages.
My mom preferred Bill Kurtis and Walter Jacobson on Channel 2. They were less old-school than the guys on Channel 7.
Once my fever went away, the sheet was removed from the sofa. The TV stand was returned to the rack. My bed stuff was brought back upstairs.
These last few days, I’ve been lying on my couch with a high-grade fever and a sore throat. I’ve been watching baseball games and movies. Yesterday, I watched my favorite movie, Casablanca, on the sofa with my pillow and blanko from my bed.
I sure wish my mommy was here to fix my pillow and put a straw in my ginger ale glass.
My bout with sickness came at the end of my annual Sixty Days of Celebrating Cecilia, the time I reflect on my mom. Today is her tenth anniversary up in heaven.
It was fitting to be sick as I reflected on Cecilia Marie. It reminded me even more how special my mom’s love was.
This year I gave up Chicago food, cigars, and sweets. I won’t have a stogie anytime soon, but I will have a chocolate éclair from Oak Park Bakery on Saturday, followed by an Italian beef and a pizza puff on Sunday.
The Morning Chalkboard should be back up and going as the living room triage center gets packed up.
