My mother texted me today,
I though her phone got hacked.
My mother is in her 60s, retired, and wasn’t really into comic books, or a big geek-culture fan. But she was an avid reader of classic science fiction, Bradbury, Asminov, Verne, etc.
And she loves movies.
I think my first inkling that I had a “cool mom” was in the early 80s when one evening she couldn’t get anyone to watch me while she went to her literature class at Stonybrook University and I had to come along. After class, while talking to the professor, he asked me if I’d ever read Tolkien. I hadn’t at that age, but my Mom had, “We have it at home, you’ll love it,” she said. She was right.
As kids, Mom took us to the movies for birthday parties and when Dad brought home our first VCR, we were able to watch certain movies over and over again. We wore out the tape on Top Gun, though she’d only watch until the shirtless volleyball scene was over and then moved on to housework, errands, or other responsibilities. I guess she didn’t want to keep watching Goose die.
Sure, Dad schooled us on the value of the Godfather, as any good Italian would; Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. But Mom saw the love story in King Kong, the fun in North by Northwest, and the beauty in The Princess Bride. Dad took us to Star Wars and Indiana Jones movies, Mom introduced us Arsenic and Old Lace and Murder on the Orient Express.
So I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when I tried to call her after that text, and she texted me back,
While I was more confident that it was, in fact, my mother, I briefly wondered if she was now texting in a theater. However, I knew full well that once the movie got going, she’d be too engrossed and therefore must have done her texting during the previews. Later she texted me,
(as if her geek son needed such advice). She continued,
And I believe her. There’s no volleyball scene.