Mom Actually Banned Me From Visiting Her Family In Sweden
So much for enjoying a month visiting family and learning about our ancestors...Issue #54
ifOnlyi…had listened to my Dad when he told me I needed to be diplomatic with my Mom. I didn’t understand his meaning until after I moved out of the house.
It all began with my Mom asking me to wash her cars one Saturday afternoon. "Okay, which ones?" I asked, “The Cadillac and the Jaguar XJS,” she replied.
I asked Mom if it was okay to take the Jaguar out on the date I had planned when I was done with my work, and she assured me that it was OK with her. “You can take the Jag, Ollie.” “Awesome,” I said. Thanks, Mom,” and I buffed and polished both cars, got ready, jumped in the XJS, and off I went.
I was not unfamiliar with driving a car, as Dad bought it for her in San Francisco the year before. It was a surprise Christmas gift. We flew up together, and Dad had me drive the 600 miles back home in the brand-new 12-cylinder Red Beauty. Dad was fantastic, and we had fun on the drive home.
I had a hot date that night and wanted to go in style. My date and I would meet with one of the company's long-time employees, Pete, for dinner! He was an ex-Navy SEAL, so I was in safe hands.
We were going to a restaurant/nightclub in Beverly Hills. The food there was memorable, and right next door, connected to the restaurant, was a nightclub. If you ate in the restaurant, you could go into the club without the 2-hour wait outside. YEAH!
Lucky me, I spent the night at my date's home and drove home early the following day, arriving around 10.30 am.
When I walked in the door, all I could hear was “OLLIE” being yelled at from the other end of the house. I ran as fast as I could. “What’s wrong? Is everything and everyone okay?” I asked, thinking something terrible had happened when I was gone. “NO, where the hell have you been?”
“Mom, I told you I was going on a date and asked to take the Jag.” “Yes, you did, Ollie, but you had no right to take the car,” she uttered. “Mom, what are you talking about? You said taking the Jag after I washed the two cars was okay, and I asked you beforehand.” I replied confidently.
“You asked if you could take the Cadillac, Ollie”. Mom said sternly, “NO, I did not, Mom! Why would I flip on you like that? It was clear I was excited about the XJS that you approved, not the Caddie.”
The war of words broke out, and she got angrier by the second.
THEN, the hammer came pounding down. “You're grounded, and your August trip with the family to Sweden to meet all my relatives in Stockholm is canceled for you.” Mom was shouting at me. “WHY are you punishing me for something you, Mom, misunderstood? I would never have taken the Jag without you agreeing to it.” I said with sadness in my voice.
That was the last time I drove a 12-cylinder Jaguar or any other 12-cylinder car.
This was again another punishment I was given for something Mom misunderstood, but couldn’t possibly admit to being wrong.
A few years before, I received a similar punishment. As a Family without my Dad, we were due to travel to Greece with a long-time family friend, Theo (he was Greek and lived in Athens), on a Yacht he had chartered for a Month. We were to sail from Island to Island and enjoy the remarkable Greek life and beauty. The yacht was fully manned and catered.
That trip was also canceled for me. Instead, Mom took my Aunt Karin in place of me. Why? Was it another report card not living up to high enough standards, because I didn’t finish my daily list of chores, or was it because I talked back? I never found out her reason, but she loved to punish me, her only son.
The punishments left a massive hole in my heart, an emptiness I found hard to understand.
I often feared what would come next, even though I meant no harm to anyone. Where did it all go wrong?
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#…ifOnlyi… short stories are published chronologically and follow my life growing up in California from 4 years old. If you’ve just found me, the stories will come together when you start reading from...Issue #1