My mom the curler

This week I am fully committed to watching the Men's Curling Championship in St. John's, Newfoundland/Labrador.  Curling is one of the greatest spectator sports ever, however, I may be biased.  Growing up in a small town, I spent a lot of time at the curling rink watching my parents and getting into trouble.  One of the best things about curling, is that you can be a terrible curler, and yet still come out and have the best game of your life.  You can also be a world class curler and come out one day and stink the place up.   The simplicity of the game gives it its complexity.  Curling continues to evolve and continues to make the game more and more exciting.

I now realize that my mom was my favorite curler of all time.  I didn't realize this when I was growing up.   As a curler, my mother was a huge source of embarrassment to me, even though she was a curling legend in Dauphin, Manitoba.  

Objectively, my mother was undoubtedly the worst curler ever.  She played lead and conveniently was in the washroom for her shots so her other team mates would play them.   When her skip was throwing and she was needed to sweep, she will likely talking to someone three ends over.  But, that is not what she contributed to the game.   

My mother contributed to the sense of spirit and community to the game.  Once a year, she was able to get three of her curling friends to come to Dauphin and play in the ladies bonspiel.  Her team was legendary in their antics.  Her friends were my three "Aunties" and I loved them as much as my mom and trusted them to take care of me.  Our home was "party central" and I never knew who to expect at our breakfast table as there was usually someone sleeping it off.  My parents had a very strong marriage and one of the reasons why they had such a strong marriage was that my dad would go out of town for the week of the Ladies bonspiel.  It was just easier on everyone.  One evening, while I was in elementary school, I woke up to a lot of noise.  This was before ATM machines and credit cards being allowed in bars.   Apparently, the four of them had run out of money for booze so my Aunts were writing out tickets and my mom was picking out china.  They were going to have a raffle to have more money for booze.  And their stamina amazed me.  They started playing in the Ladies bonspiels when I was about 5.  After I got my driver\s licence, they were still playing.  I remember stopping at an intersection while a pick-up truck going the other way went through the intersection with four ladies standing in the back drinking beer.  My passenger asked, "isn't that your mom?" and I was too mortified to answer.   

At the end of every bonspiel, there would be a banquet with some entertainment.  For some unknown reason, my mom ended up singing her version of Louis Armstrong's Hello Dolly at each one.  The Monday morning after every performance the local radio station would play this song and decorate it to my mother.  I would cringe.  

I told my mom she was an embarrassment to me several times a bonspiel.  She never changed.  I wish I could now tell her how proud I was of her and wish I could be more like her.   She had tried and true friends who would do anything for her.  She was self-confident and loved to sing so she sang as loud as she could.  She didn't care what people thought of her, she was just out to have a good time.   My mom and her friends probably laughed more on the curling ice than most people do in a lifetime.  My mom wasn't afraid to have a personality larger than life.  She curled, and lived life, on her terms.  

I hope she knows that she really was my hero and I wish I could be more like her.  I wish I could laugh more and I wish that I could care less what people think.   It turns out you can break social norms and the world doesn't end.  I know my mom is watching the Brier in heaven and I am pretty sure she is cheering for the team that is having the most fun.