"No, Mama -- I'm glad you are being so understanding, I'm glad you want to become involved but you can't call Andrew at work. It's a new job, not one I'm particularly fond of but it's what he wants to do and you have to give him time to adjust to the schedule."

"Luigi -- I'm sorry. You're right. I know. I just felt so bad about the way I treated Andrew when your Papa and I were there for our visit -- and speaking of visits, Luigi - when, WHEN are you coming home for a trip? Your family misses you, Luigi and I miss you. Papa misses you!"

In spite of my mother's neurotic behavior, I was glad she'd taken the news like this. I'd heard horror stories about kids being disowned by their parents, about fathers coming after sons with lethal weapons -- and while sometimes Mama seemed like a lethal weapon -- I knew she meant well. But when was she going to let this phantom trip Drew and I were taking back east just drop?

"Mama, you know we both have new jobs. Neither of us have a vacation planned for at least six months." I thought, 'thank God for that.'

She was whining.

I hated it when Mama whined.

"You should show Andrew to the places you grew up, Luigi. You should remember your past. This is a wonderful place, the water, the fishing, all of it and Andrew should be a part of it?"

"Why?"

"Because, Luigi -- it's a part of you, this town, your family, your relatives, me and Papa -- it's all a part of you, and Andrew loves you. I know he'd like to see where you came from -- you with your name change and high education -- let him know where you come from."

God. This was the most eloquent thing Mama had ever said. I was very impressed with her philosophy of home and it's value. Just when you think you've got your parents all figured out-- just when you feel you could never learn anything from them... they surprise you.

"I love you, Mama."

"I love you too, Luigi and I'm so happy you told me about all this business. I know it's been hard. For all of us. But let's let all that go, okay Luigi? None of that matters anymore, what matters is your happiness. That's all I ever wanted for my kids."

Jeez, my eyes were welling up and I had a huge lump in my throat.

"Mama, I gotta -- I gotta go."

"I know, me too. I know this is all new for us-- this talking stuff. You go now, son. We'll speak tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. Okay, Mama."