Keeping Up

When my dad first died, of course I worried about my mom. They had been married over 60 years.

She was sad, of course, but nowhere near as devastated as I had feared. Some parts of her new life gave her great joy, and none more than having 100% control of the TV remote.

As a faithful wife of the Greatest Generation, my mom had never for a moment inconvenienced my father by watching any shows he didn’t want to watch. She sat through endless years of endless seasons of baseball and football, never complaining, standing by her man.

With him gone, mom was free to explore 256 channels of cable fun, and she found what she truly loved fairly quickly.

My mom loved the Kardashians.

She watched every dang Kardashian show she could rest her eyes on, sometimes the same episodes over and over.

The problems were two: she wanted to share her newfound love for the K’s, and she has a terrible memory for names.

Cue me perched in a recliner chair, trying to muster up an interested face while my mom recounted what had happened on last night’s episode.

“The one, you know, the one who married that basketball guy, she came in and just ignored that other one, and the mother didn’t like that but she had to leave with that guy, is he her husband or I don’t know, I don’t think he’s the father of all those girls…”

That’s my problem in life folks. I just can’t keep up with the Kardashians.