Editor's Choice

Those of you who know us (okay, Mom then) best, will appreciate this. And for those of you who don’t know me, or Virgie Bell, perhaps you know or are related to someone like my mother.

God bless you (and she’s tired of my blessing everyone and thinks we need some punch!). But better yet. God keep you if you are near, a Queen.

I call her 'Mom', but she is a mother in every sense of the word. And then some.

She is a writer, no doubt, but the mechanics of it all slow her down. She pays attention to my editing (I don’t change her words except to enhance her voice: the voice I’ve listened to for nearly fifty-two years.)

Mom has absorbed knowledge (the kind she’s interested in, anyway) for all her life: politics, religion, war (you could actually combine the first two and just call both--war--and atrocity, no doubt.)

Aunt Linda (Gay—we have two Linda's, the other is Linda Dale, so we have to differentiate, and MeMa always used their middle names—Mom’s name originated from her two grandmothers' names, but back to it.) L. G. once told my mom that if a movie was ever produced about Nazis, Jews, (again, war) and sharks, (yes, she’s into sharks as well) all-in-one-lumped-power-packed-blood-and-guts-good-guy-bad-guy-adventure, they’d have the movie Mom would be in a long line to see.

One she would rave about for years.

But here we go, Mom, is causing me to lose my thread. Again.

I edit Mom's talking. And yes, she puts great work into it herself, as she's never had a class in typing. (See how much she loves our country, our troops, and her eldest daughter.) It’s not just to break up the paragraphs (which in this instance would be ‘Parts’), but to break up one sentence!

She writes like she talks and she never, ever quits, well, maybe in her sleep, no, there too; I would bet, though I haven’t slept with her since the night before I married my first time at age sixteen (we had watched Dracula), but that’s an old story, save Shane…still, what I do first is: ‘Select All’, and change the 10 font to a nice size 16, just so I can see, and then (only then!) do I set to work, which is also the cause of my voice no longer being heard: I am inundated with my mother’s voice from sunrise to sunset, and so I work on my stuff in the night … though… . I know what you’re thinking—and you are wrong—I’ve yet to delete a post thought of late in the night!

Well, I’ve got to get back to parts two (okay, parts one now, because my few words have once again, evolved into many): so, parts one through four (at least.)

Of Mom’s, I mean, and then I still have mine. And Greg will want his posted.

Without any further adieu then, we’ll get back to Mom.

Yes, our two personalities are reminiscent of a solid gene pool, though mine is watered down a bit.

God keeps us.

Normally, I would post these where they blog with Part Four (or so) first, so that Part One would appear on top (Nothing to worry about, Mom (yeah), but in this case, I might be a while, and I really don’t think it will matter after all.

A power of suggestion: if you’re waiting on other stuff, take a break, or read my mom.

She’s brilliant. And yes, she thinks so too.