Random Access Memory

Happy Mother’s Day, Dear Readers.  It’s great to be back from Seattle to celebrate this happy occasion with you all.

In case you don’t recognize them, that’s Natasha and Nick (and a sculpture by Margot McMahon) in our back yard in 1988.   Natasha was ten and Nick was eight.

That was a very happy time in my life- the golden age of motherhood for me.

The photograph put me in a nostalgic mood and so I thought I’d summon up a memory from that happy time when my kids were young and I was a full-time mom.

So now let’s all climb in the Time Machine…

My son Nick had come home from boarding school with a problem. His computer had had a bad case of conflicting extensions- causing the mouse and the keyboard to malfunction.

His CD-ROM had flatlined as well.

I was on a deadline for the Pioneer Press but I hated to see a computer suffer. So I dug out my car keys for a quick trip to the emergency room.

“I can only spare one hour, Nick!” I yelled.  “Throw the computer in my trunk and let’s go!”

Nick grabbed the box- it had been packed up and shipped from his school in Rhode Island- and we made a mad dash for Computer Discount Warehouse in Buffalo Grove.

My time frame and I were both in for a shock.

I had been out of town for awhile and I had no idea that a huge summer construction project was taking place on Lake-Cook Road west of the highway exit.

It took me almost an hour to creep up the street.

Finally, CDW’s huge building loomed into sight.

I commandeered the nearest parking space, Nick grabbed the box and we tore in.

We were stopped by a polite security guard.

“Sign here, please,” he said proffering a clipboard.  “And I’m going to have to open that box to verify its contents.”

“No problem,” said Nick as he signed away.  “It’s my computer and I’m bringing it in for repairs.”

“It’s packed really nicely,” the guard commented casually as he slit the tape with a razor.  “But what’s this?” he puzzled.

Nick and I peered in to the box.

All I could see was a cashmere shawl and some picture frames belonging to his sister, Natasha.

“There had better be a computer in there somewhere,” I said darkly.

“That’s just what I was thinking, Dude,” my son replied casually.

We both poked around in the box for a few seconds and then I had a horrible thought.

“Did you bring the wrong box?” I asked my son.  The steam was beginning to rise from my head.

“Oops.  Yeah, I guess I did, man.  But they all looked alike.  How was I supposed to know?”

I know that I gave birth to him.  I know that I love him.  I know that I would never let any harm befall him.  I know that I had never laid a hand on him.

But when I heard ‘How was I supposed to know?’ I went berserk.

“‘How were you to know?’  You could have opened the box!” I shrieked, foaming at the mouth like a mad dog.

“Uh, I thought it was my computer.  It looked like the box I packed it in and it weighs about the same.  How was I supposed to know, man?”

There it was again.

I made a grab for the security guard’s gun but he was quicker than me.

I didn’t need it anyway.  I could do the deed with my bare hands.

“I’m going to kill you!” I screamed.

Nick took off with me in hot pursuit.  The security guard called for backup.

“I’ve got a real little lady here chasing a real big kid and the kid’s running. But I think she might catch him and I need assistance.”

Another guard answered the call and together they subdued me.

It took a couple of minutes for me to stop shaking.

It took a couple of minutes for the security guards to stop laughing.

And then they released me back into Nick’s custody.

During the ride home, Nick tried to apologize but I would have none of it.  I was hot, tired and worried about my deadline and nothing he could say could restore my good humor.

Until John Harvard popped into my mind.

Yep, John Harvard.  You know, the guy who founded Harvard University with a bequest of some money and his books.

The books were the foundation of the famous Widener Library which today has over thirteen million volumes.

Naturally, John Harvard’s original small library was an historical treasure.

However, one night in the late 1800’s, a fire broke out and ALL the original Harvard bequest books went up in smoke.

The loss was irreplaceable.

But a few days later, a student appeared with one book and this sole survivor of the John Harvard Library is still treasured at the university.

How did this miracle happen?

Easy.  The student in question had simply neglected to return the book to library on time. It was overdue.

I smiled at my son.

Maybe the afternoon hadn’t been completely wasted.

In fact, he’s showing a real aptitude for carelessness.

I think that Nick might have a great future as a Harvard man.

Happy Mother’s Day.

Wishing you all a wonderful day- and a host of happy memories of your own.