Mother's Day brings a chance for a special visit

Trip to Chicago to cover the Angels takes a detour to a place with much meaning for writer.

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WHEATON, Ill. — I'm standing in a cemetery, which is probably better than lying in one.

I came to Chicago to write about the Angels, and while I seem to be focused on the dead, this has more to do with Mother's Day.

My mom is here.

This isn't the first time I've set out to write about the Angels and found myself mentioning my mother. Maybe the name Angels triggers her memory, or maybe I'm always trying to avoid writing about the Angels.

Funny how the mention of Angels, though, never brings back memories of my father.

It's probably just one of those odd coincidences in life. I never gave it a thought when I took off for Houston to check on the managerial status of Mike Scioscia.

The Angels lost two to the Astros so I continued on to Chicago, players to interview, an owner to heckle and another column to write. More angry email to read.

I knew the daughter had Mother's Day plans for the wife so I was off the hook. But why is it that a wife likes to repeatedly tell her husband, "I'm not your mother.''

We all know that.

I just have to eat her apple pie and know she's not my mother.

Anyways, the Angels won Friday and Saturday and I was writing about them like the world might not go on if they didn't. This is very serious stuff with only 126 games remaining.

I had one more game to cover, everyone telling me I was going to dislike C.J. Wilson, which would mean I would just love writing about him.

But when I awoke Sunday, everywhere I went it was Mother's Day. I've got one too.

She's buried 29 miles from the hotel, and you know what, it's been more than 40 years since I spent a Mother's Day with my mom.

So I rented a car, made the drive to St. Michael's Cemetery and realized I could also knock off Father's Day since he was there as well.

I've always been thoughtful like that as a son.

Now I don't know if I'm alone on this, but here I was walking among the markers, 62 years old, trying to ignore the sign that said "available lots," and thinking that I miss my parents.

Those people in Memphis are right; I never did grow up.

I have interviewed so many wonderful people in my life, and Mike D'Antoni. Some really wonderful, special people — but the two most memorable are here.

And I wouldn't have been opposed to just one more chat.

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