Oh, Mom…
I remember the first time Con brought his football suit home to be washed and I thought I would never make it through it. I took it down to the basement and put it in the machine with the soap, etc., turned on the machine and all hell broke loose! The machine jumped around like it had gone completely mad and I held on to it to try to hold it down until I could get it through the first cycle….sitting on a washing machine doing it’s own version of a boogie is not fun believe me! It finally made it through enough washing and rinsing that I figured I could safely take it out and maybe it would not attack me. When Con came home I told him that I would never ever wash that thing again and his coach should be ashamed to send things like that home with kids. He looked at me and dryly said, "Mom, did you take the pads out before you put it in the machine?" Since the only athlete in my family had been my mother and she was a hurdler I had no idea that the darned thing even had pads so I said no I did not take the pads out. He and his dad laughed until they knew they had gotten me to the hysterical stage and shut up…….they also took out the pads and you know, it was much easier without them.
When he got his letter jacket I spent one whole afternoon sewing all his letters and those little metal things you get for track, tennis, etc. on the thing……I had it nearly covered when he came home and took one look at it and nearly died. Again he looked at me and dryly said, "I think that if you work at it you will be able to hang my most tackles plaque on one of my temple pieces of my glasses." That evening I spent taking all the things off except the big A. I was truly proud of my son (and still am) but I have often wondered if he moved to California so that I could not buy his clothes and try to do things for him. Next time I’ll talk about some of our baseball experiences…….I knew just enough about baseball to be dangerous too.
Corky
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Tags: Corky, Family, Football, Mom
Corky, those are great stories, but please do not share the story of trying to “potty” train the kid!!!!!
My mother had a wringer washing machice. Can you imagine putting the shoulder pads through that? My arm went through once.
Thanks for sharing!!!!!!
So, Mom, is that why you glued on my Girl Scout badges instead of sewing them on. . . . kind of like the difference in baby books between the first and last kid?
I remember when my brother’s arm went through the wringer.
Who is Corky & Con?
Con is Conrad, and Corky is our Mom
! I never put my arm through the wringer, but Mom was scared to death I would 
!
Maynard, we can only hope that she isn’t going to go there. But…you never know!
What you are worried about is that she remembers something from when we were kids about you!
Corky -
I love your stories & you tell them so well!!! I’ve done some really funny things also!
What a delightful surprise Corky! I am pleased to make your acquaintance.
That is a lovely story. I wish that I could get my wife Urmeela to share some of her stories about bringing up our son Ranjan. I could, but the effect will not quite be the same.
The two most important ones are both when he got lost. The first time was when he was seven and the second when he was 10. I would not wish any parent to go through with that kind of experience ever.
rummuser’s last blog post..India’s neighbours – China
Hi Corky,
At the risk of using a cliche, the apple does not fall far from the tree. Now, I see where Conrad gets his sense of humour.
The stories that are woven into the tapestry of our lives – it appears to me that the Hake family chronicles provide for some richly-coloured fabric!
Mrs. Hake that is a lovely picture of you. Young Mr. Hake must look like his father. Ms. Viki must look like you “beautiful!”
Deb: fire some of those stories over here – I’ll do my best to embarass you!
Ramana: I’d love to hear some of Urmeela’s stories in her own words! And she might even have some words about a guy named Ramana. Fasten your seatbelt, my man…
Marianna: The interplay growing around a family of blogs which grows from a family of people is quite the affair, isn’t it? People used to say to me when I moved to California, “What on Earth was there to do in Kansas?” They were so missing the point. Life was rich beyond imagining because of the sharing that people did. We didn’t need things, we cherished each other.
Gail: Viki is beautiful, but I look just like the milkman. We’ve never been able to figure it out…
Thanks for the great stories. I’m looking forward to hearing more.
Jean Browman–Cheerful Monk’s last blog post..Not a Game for Control Freaks
Okay Corad, you asked for it. One story concerning me, Ranjan, Urmeela and funnily enough the inspiration, you.
We were posted to the last British outpost in India. A sylvan factory township in one of the most beautiful places in india. I was taking over from the incumbent and we were staying at the company club. In the evenings, there was tennis, swimming and fellowship at the club. When I came to the tennis courts in the evening after a day of taking over, there was the wife of the incumbent and Urmeela sitting next to each other after a game of tennis and chatting away. When she saw me, the former, Prem, a rustic lass all the way from the Punjab said, ” Congrtulations Ramana, I have just seen Ranjan and he looks just like you!”. I promptly said, “Thank God for that! Imagine if he had looked like the milk man!”. This was totally lost on Prem who switched tracks and said, “Oh! You do not know what problems we have here with the milk man. He comes when he wants, some times, he does not and when he does not, I do not know what is to be done.” And you can imagine the pin drop silence with which this was being heard by a boisterous lot of a hard working gang after a full day’s labour! She went on and on about the perfidious milkman for the next five minutes! This story did the rounds of the globe with all sorts of embellishments. I was in a British multinational company then. They had plants and sales offices all over the world. Before you could say, Jack Robinson, the milkman of our particular patch of green was globally famous.
I am sorry that perhaps you do not know. Urmeela would have been delighted to oblige you with her repertoire of stories about the two men in her life, but is semi invalid and suffers from dementia arising out of multiple cardiac and cerebral infarcts. She has been like that the past eight years and I am her primary caregiver. She wishes me to convey her sincere regrets to you. Not to worry however. Whenever something that you say triggers of my memory, I shall fill in for her.
Incidentally, did you know that both my hip joints have been replaced and revised again too? Wouldn’t you like to know how I managed to get there?
Mr. Rummuser tell us! We wiil all need hip replacements some day so share. It wasn’t from straineous use chasing the “milkman?”
Oh my, Ramana. I had a suspicion that getting to know you would be an adventure. I think perhaps that my imagination underplayed the possibilities!
First, I am so sorry to hear about Urmeela’s difficulties. I thank God that she has you and I thank God that you have so many friends to share life and observations with to help recharge and sustain you.
As part of that friendship, I must insist that you spill the beans! Now, you have all of us hanging on, waiting for the next shoe to drop. Just when I thought Padmini had cornered the family ability to create suspense…
I had to jump out of a second floor apartment.
When people ask me why I had to get my hips replaced, that is the answer I give.
The next question is the predictable “Good Lord, why?”
Now is the difficult part. I have to have a deadpan face and say ” The husband came ”
Gail, I hope that you never have to do anything like that ever!
Conrad, I am not very tech savvy and therefore, may I request a favour?
I shall forward to you an exchange of emails from and to a great friend of mine from Scotland. I shall be most obliged, if you could make a blog of it. You have my permission to use my name as you see fit, but please leave the lady’s out of it. Believe it or not, she is bashful!
rummuser’s last blog post..Meena Venkat – A Young Lady Lioness.
Ramana, my man, you can count on my discretion. And, it would seem, you need it!
I will gladly put together a blog post for you.