Sheryl accepted a Literary Heroes award yesterday in her role as chairperson of FLITE.
In the video below, she describes FLITE’s mission and some of their successes.
It’s really cool. Sheryl has put a ton of time and effort into this important cause. The recognition was richly deserved.
Doing good work for others is a higher calling.
Sometimes being a mom takes all the patience in the world. Like a couple of years ago when we were getting a quick family portrait on the back deck and certain guys just weren’t into it.
Happy Mother’s Day to Sheryl. (And to all the other mothers I know…I started to make a list, but it got really long really fast. Besides, mothering isn’t necessarily all about biology — Sheryl has Snickers the Wonder Dog and Benny J. Catenheimer XXIII, who are firmly convinced that they’re her kids. Mothering takes all forms, from caring for little kids to grown up boys, whether they’re your own or not.)
I WROTE THIS POST ON IFLIPFLOP A YEAR AGO TODAY. IT’S BEEN ONE YEAR SINCE MY FATHER-IN-LAW, HOWARD MOTTET, PASSED AWAY. IT’S ONE OF THOSE STRANGE TIME TELESCOPING THINGS. IN SOME WAYS, IT FEELS LIKE A LONG TIME AGO. IN OTHER WAYS, IT STILL SEEMS LIKE HE’S STILL HERE.
AT OUR HOUSE WE HAVE A BACK PORCH LIGHT THAT SEEMS TO HAVE A MIND OF ITS OWN. IT COMES ON AT THE ODDEST TIMES. (IT HAPPENED AGAIN ON SATURDAY NIGHT AT 11:30 PM.) WE JOKE AMONG OURSELVES THAT IT’S HOWARD PLAYING ONE OF HIS JOKES. HE LOVED TO LAUGH. WE MISS THAT.
Good morning, good morning, it’s very nice to see you, I hope you’ve come to staaaaaaay.
That was the daily morning song of my father-in-law, Howard Mottet. That song is sadly silenced. Howard passed away yesterday after a lingering illness. That’s Howard in the middle, surrounded by his wife of 50 years and his seven children. That was the same group that was with him when he took his last breath. He was a great man, and lucky to have such a great family around him.
The Day I Met the Life of the Party
Howard was definitely the life of the party in his day. The first time I met him he was dressed in a rain suit and dancing on a patio table on the balcony of a hotel. He’d enjoyed an Iowa football game and a little tailgating before the hellos were exchanged. But with Howard, it was always a big handshake and a look right in the eye. He was that kind of a guy.
Howard and Jo Ann, my in-laws, raised a family of seven kids, all of whom still call each other each week and keep in touch like they’re all still back in Iowa. He was proudest of having his family around him. And rally around him they did.
A 0.01% Chance to Live..and He Did
Several years ago, the Christmas gathering of the entire clan — some 38 strong — was going to happen at our house. Howard turned up early and told us some startling news. “I have leukemia. Stage 4. The doctors say I have six months to live if I take treatment, and three months to live if i don’t,” he said. It wasn’t a great Christmas, I’ll say that. But Howard decided he was going to be the 0.01% chance.
He went to Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale, AZ, where they took his immunity down to zero. He was on his death bed for seven weeks. Seven kids, seven weeks. And each of his children spent a full week with him in succession at the hospital (along with Jo Ann, his wife, who did the entire tour). And he made it. Godammit, he made it. Cured. He used to go back to the Oncology Ward and visit with the doctors and nurses, who used to rub him like a touchstone, to show that what they did could work…and to celebrate Howard’s will-to-live. That family spirit, and Howard’s determination, was emblematic of all that he did. He lived life with joy and gusto.
The King of the White Elephants
When the 5-year mark came after his cancer treatment, they told him he didn’t need to come back anymore. Amazing. And he kept on living. Just this Christmas, though, his health was declining. He had multiple things going wrong, none of which seemed to be about the cancer. He couldn’t get up and about like the old days. But just like the man, he loved the gift exchange. Each year it would be a big event to see what White Elephant gift he would give and how it would be wrapped (the man knew how to get attention). This past Chistmas he disappeared during part of the exchange. And then we found out why…he had hidden clues all over the house…Funny clues. And lots of them. It was a scavenger hunt to get his present. And the payoff was precious. He just sat there and smiled.
Howard Gives Some Advice to Newlyweds
My favorite story of Howard had to do with his prodigious ability for public speaking. At the wedding rehearsal dinner of one of his granddaughters (my wife’s niece), there was a succession of married people who stood up at the microphone and gave “advice for newly married couples.” Howard, being married the longest, spoke last. What he said might shock you:
“Here’s my advice for you kids. The wife should do everything. She should do the laundry. She should have a nice meal prepared for you when you get home from work. She should be dutiful.”
There was dead silence in the room. Jo Ann was standing behind him, slapping him on the back, and saying, “Oh, Howard.” He paused.
“Well, that’s not how it really is. And that’s not how it was with us. Mother worked and we raised our kids together. I didn’t do everything I should, but we worked together. And that’s how it really is. Together.”
It was brilliant. Son of a farmer. Salesman. Executive. Those would be labels. But it was his family that sustained him.
One Last “Good Morning, Good Morning”
And it was his family who were with him at last. We’ll miss “Good morning, good morning.” We’ll miss Chicken in a Pot. We’ll miss creative Christmas wrapping. We’ll miss that smile. And we’ll miss that twinkle in his eye. Guys like him don’t come around too often. But we’re all the better when they do.
I’ll be headed to Iowa with my boys later this week. They’ll be pallbearers at a Catholic Funeral Mass. We’ll meet my wife and her family there. Maybe we’ll all do a rendition of “Good morning, good morning.”
Matt was inducted into the National Honor Society last night in a ceremony at his high school.
The head of the school board invoked JFK and and said, “You’re the brightest and best at one of the best schools in the country. You’re in an elite group.”
Wow. Can I say, once again, that I’m proud? I didn’t have anything to do with Matt being selected for NHS, but it’s pretty cool to see a young man get recognized for putting his nose to the grindstone. That will serve him well.
I’ll have some pix tomorrow. Just busting my buttons today.
“Matthew, come down.” Sheryl was reading a letter that came from the high school.
“You have been selected to join the National Honor Society,” she read from the enclosed invitation.
That was Wednesday for Matt. That dude’s on a roll.
National Honor Society. Aces in all his classes, including a full load of AP courses. (From what Sheryl tells me, he’ll likely complete a year’s worth of college classes by the time he graduates high school.) On his own initiative applied for and got a new job at an electronics store for much more money that he was making at the grocery store. (This in an area where few kids work because their parents give them everything.) He did great at BMW Teen Driving School. Last night he cracked me up when he came downstairs with a bag of things to toss out from his room. (He cleaned it without being asked.)
It’s fun to watch the transition from childhood to young adulthood. And Mattman is on a roll.
I’m a proud papa.
