To tell the truth

I had a lovely phone conversation with Mom last night. My calico cat was stretched out on me purring into the phone as I told my mother that I wished I could share Bella's warm furry self with her. Mom enjoyed hearing the tales of what my cats are up to and laughed heartily as I described Bella's penchant for escaping into my apartment's hallway and rolling around on the floor while I vigorously shake a jar of pennies in the misguided hope of scaring her home.

I also told her I am going through her old pictures and making slide shows for her and described the two older pictures above. Mom recognized them as being her pictures and was able to tell me the the boy on stilts was my Great Uncle Emmanuel. She wasn't sure about the other one (it's actually an unmailed postcard) and asked me to bring it in sometime so she could see it.

While we were talking a nurse came in and asked Mom who she was speaking to. A reasonable question because Mom has been the victim of telephone sales people, receiving harassing calls for not paying for a credit card she did not recall signing up for. Mom told the nurse she was speaking with Karen. (My sister) That was understandable to me, our voices are almost identical on the phone, and while Mom does get family members mixed up in person too, we are enormously grateful that she always knows us as trusted family members, a luxury we know we could lose at any time.

Anyway, the nurse told Mom to tell Karen hello, so I went along with it and told her to say hello back. A few minutes later the nurse took the phone and started a conversation at which point I admitted that I was not Karen but her sister Ruth. And then I wanted to reach through the phone and hug my mother while the nurse said disparagingly, "It's not Karen at all Melinda!"

Most of Mom's care givers are wonderful, caring, loving people, but this woman is old school, errors must be corrected. I disagree with this with all my heart. Accuracy no longer counts. One of the things I am most grateful for is that my mother does not remember that my father died two years ago, and is most times content to wait for him to come home. She does not always know where he will sleep when he does show up, but she says they will make room on their small bed.

Even my 4 year old niece and 7 year old nephew understand that correcting Grandma isn't necessary. I wish more grownups could learn this small lesson in kindness.