everything you ever wanted to know about nothing at all...

Thursday, November 09, 2006



















































(I apologize for the stolen pictures, we have three from Heidi, one from Joyce, & I don't know who took the wedding picture, but I do know that they're older than me)

Please tell my mother
I miss her the most
an' as I travel from coast to coast
I feel your love 'an
I feel your ghost
Listen, dear mother, I miss you the most
Listen, dear mother, I miss you the most

Jeff Tweedy, from Please Tell My Brother

Happy birthday, Ma! She turns 56 tomorrow, as all of you know. I didn't have a picture of her directing a choir, but she has the same happy smile on her face when she's doing that, even when the choir is hitting all sorts of bad notes. When the song is over, she cuts off the note, & always makes a face that says "good job". I don't know how many different choirs she's directed in her day, it's probably in the 20's or 30's.

It should come as no surprise to anyone that her courtship (it's fun to say courtship) with my old man began on a choir tour in Europe. She's been making music all of her life, one listen to her & her sisters singing will take you instantly back to the 1950's. She taught herself how to play guitar. She's always been singing, in the car, around the house, in church (she always sings harmony during church hymns), in school. The story about how she woke up singing "Going to the Chapel" on her wedding day could not have come from anyone but my mother. From what I remember when I had her as a teacher for a short while, she would have devotions every morning & each student would take turns picking songs from different hymnals (is that right, ma? my memory's a bit froggie on that one).

I got my love of music from my mother, although I'm sure that alot of the music I listen to sounds like nails on a chalkboard to her. That's okay, deep down, the songs I love the most are the hymns that we've been singing in church since I was born.

I could tell you all sorts of stories about my mother, about how we'd go on walks around Fort Wayne when I was four years old, or about how she stayed up until 4 in the morning when I got lost driving home from the prom, or about how she made it to %99.99 of every sporting or musical event we ever had as kids, or about how she's the perfect wife to my dad, or about how she's a great listener, or about how she's always a teacher, especially to her grandchildren, or about how she likes to take shots of Jagermeister on Christmas Eve :), or about how she loves to go on little adventures, or how she unsuccessfully tried to get us to clean up the kitchen before the timer on the microwave went off, or about thousands upon thousand bowls of popcorn on weekends, or haircuts in the backyard, or I could tell you about how she's a great host, or about how she would always encourage you to be great without being overbearing, or about how she always tries to be interested in the things your interested, or about how she doesn't like that whiny guitar sound, even though she'll let you control the radio station, or about how she asks you what your favorite thing you like about somebody, or what your favorite part of some event was, or about how she'll tell you it's only money, or about how she's become quite the architect in her old age, or about how she sees the best in anybody even when the best is hard to see, or how she'd never let you feel sorry for yourself or take yourself too seriously, I could tell you about how she got afraid of a fight breaking out during a Tigers game, or how she'd always make scrambled eggs with cheese at just the right times, or how she always tells you to remember whose you are, no matter how old you get, but it would 'cause a run-on sentence & I'm sure you all have similar stores. Thanks for everything you do, ma & for being who you are. I love you.

In other news, check out the hottest thing on the blogging scene since, well, who knows. Don't believe a thing she says, though, she tends to drink at least four bottles of whiskey before she blogs (just kidding, she'll kick me in the shins if I don't clarify that she does NOT in fact, drink four bottles of whiskey before she blogs) :).

Five Favorite Songs of the Day

Ramblin' Round Your City-Odetta, A Tribute to Woody Guthrie, 1968

Dear Mrs Roosevelt-Bob Dylan, A Tribute to Woody Guthrie, 1968

Oh Well-Fiona Apple, Extraordinary Machine

Thunder on the Mountain-Bob Dylan, Auburn Hills, 2006

Please Tell My Brother-Jeff Tweedy

Happy Thursday, friends, raise a bowl of popcorn & a glass of lemonade & wish my mother happy birthday!

andrew

4 comments:

Christie said...

I would like to see you kick yourself in the knee sometime, I think that would be pretty entertaining. Also, it's Grey's Anatomy, not Grady's (although Im sure you already knew that)
I do love your post though, and the way you described your mom, you really do have a good memory for things. Happy Birthday Mrs. Schroeder!

Pam said...

Awwww! Shucks! Thanks Andy-- I love the way you remember things about me that I don't remember! And I love you! Thanks, to you, too Christie! You are a new blessing to me!

Joyce said...

Well said.

Mary said...

Andy has I sit in the beautiful mountains and 85 degree day what a treat it is to read your amazing blog about your mom. She is perhaps the best person I know

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Grand Haven, Michigan
the sun shines on a dog's ass every now & then...