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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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