"A New York Treasure" --Village Voice

Here Comes Da Mums

My mother was born in Belgium and then raised in the Belgian Congo. When she met my father and came to New York in 1966-67, she spoke English well enough, but though she’s lived here in the States ever since, her high-pitched French accent remains. Once you meet her once, you’ll never forget the way she talks. As kids, she’d sing us lullabys–mostly in French–but sometimes in English too. One that I remember with particular fondess was mom singing the chorus of George Harrison’s sweet-natured record, “Here Comes the Sun.” Ma didn’t know any of the lyrics so she’d just sing the chorus and then add her own “Do-da-do-doo doos.” But in her high-lilting voice, it sounded so charming, and for us as kids (my twin sister and younger brother), undoubtedly warming too.

This memory came to mind yesterday as I watched the Yankee game at home with Emily. I had spoken with my co-host Cliff earlier in the day and he expressed some concern about the rainy weather. Cliff’s got a season ticket package for Sundays. Since he was on puppy-duty yesterday he offered his tickets to his mom–who is a bonafide Yankee fan–and a cheery one at that. But he was feeling guilty at the thought of his mom getting soaked out there in the bleachers all afternoon. I could relate to feeling guilty like that, so you can imagine how pleased I was for Cliff and his mom when the sun came out mid-way through the game, and remained for the rest of the afternoon.

When the sun poked through, I thought of Cliff and his mom as I heard my own mother singing “Here Comes the Sun.”

Just a quick, personal memory during yesterday’s 7-1 win at the Stadium. Randy Johnson pitched, Jorge Posada caught, while Jason Giambi supplied the pop.

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"This ain't football. We do this every day."
--Earl Weaver