Of course, I won't be raising her from the dead as a zombie. That's impossible; we had her cremated. Fortunately, there are other ways to bring her back to life. All week, over at Facebook, people have been putting up pictures of their mothers as their profile pictures. I'm a sucker for that kind of sentimental gesture.
Here is Mom demonstrating the family squint. This squint is a precious family heirloom, passed down for generations. My sisters and I all share the squint. The squint is believed to have originated with our Scottish ancestors who, every spring, would emerge from ther mud hovels and squint at the ball of fire in the sky that they had not seen in months.
Mom, as a Campfire Girl. Campfire Girls, with their great uniform, may have been a gateway drug to Mom's love of the theatrical. Because my grandfather was a camera buff, I have dozens of pictures of Mom standing on the porch or in the yard of whatever house they lived in that year showing off a costume.
Mom, (far right) undercover, fighting crime. We may never know the full extent of my mother's crime fighting activities because I haven't made them up, yet.
If you can't figure out what this is picture of, you are a communist and should go back where you came from. When we were married, Tessa carried that fan and I wore that suit (the green one, not the white one). As to what that means, you can keep your dirty mouth shut, Dr. Freud.
As a mom, one of Mom's duties was to take us camping and make sure we got our recommended annual allowance of carbonized marshmallows and mosquito bites. Dad also came on these outings to act as chauffeur, native guide, and photographer.
After Mom booted that last of her freeloading kids out of the house (that would be me), she looked around for new ways to stay active. She had already done crime fighting, so she settled on roller derby.
Mom, at a wedding, with some dirty hippie.
Wednesday is Dad's birthday, he'll get his retrospective treatment then.