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  • When I was young I was mortified when my mother, who always loved singing, would loudly hum along to the intercom music in the grocery store and, worse yet, sing along when she knew the words. I would walk ahead or lag behind, pretending I was not part of her musical entourage. Who is that woman singing in the aisles? Why, I'm sure I have no idea. What a strange woman.

    I wish I could have one more trip through the grocery store with her. Just one more. I would walk beside her and hum. I would sing when I knew the words. I would say I'm sorry mom, I'm sorry I pretended not to know you.

    And she would laugh and say, no matter, just sing. Just sing now.

    (picture is of my mother sitting on a memorial bench we placed for my father in Luther Burbank Gardens, Santa Rosa, California)
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