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Life Lesson’s from Big Bon
Allow me to introduce my mother. Bonnie Lee Miller. Born
in Detroit. Reared in Flint. After 34 years of working
on a General Motors assembly line, the woman has rock
hard calluses, varicose veins, and a kung fu grip like
you wouldn’t believe. Hence our affectionate nickname
for her, Big Bon.
As a person, my mom is about as average as average can
get. She never went to college. She drives a mini van.
And she just recently moved out of the same apartment
complex we had lived in from the time I was 8 years old.
She’s not big on adventure or change, (although
something tells me that back in your younger days that
might not have been the case.) She likes the sounds of
Motown, James Brown, Elvis Presley, and Betty White. She
worked a lot of overtime while raising me as a single
mother so we rarely had “sit down” family dinners. In
fact, my mom’s not much of a cook. True story: For the
record, I DID have a turkey TV dinner one Thanksgiving.
(I actually thought it was pretty funny. And probably
better than anything she would’ve cooked.) My mom
doesn’t wear fancy or expensive clothes and she hardly
puts on make up anymore. She’s also had the same
hairstyle for about 20 years. Raising six kids over 47
years has a way of taking the glamorous out of your
life.
My mom’s a blue collar, union dues paying, middle class
democrat. She’s been known to mispronounce words from
time to time but that doesn’t stop her from giving her
unsolicited opinion on just about everything. She
believes timeouts are for basketball games, not children
and is still getting this whole political correctness
thing down. She can’t text, but does email, (albeit in
all lower case letters with little use for
punctuation.), just don’t send her any attachments. |
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Rights Reserved. |
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