I think we were the only family that owned a two-door, burnt-orange Monte Carlo with white and tan interior on the block. Yes, I’m fairly sure. A-, next door, had a white ‘76 Pontiac with the bird emblem on the hood, that resembled takeoff by the way it was parked on the driveway; L-’s mother used to pick us up from elementary school in what seemed to be at the time an 18-passenger wagon. In comparison, the Monte Carlo, by the time I got to know it, had ripped vinyl dangling from inside the roof; the upholstery torn and ragged by pens and knives and fingernails. It drove well, though, and I suppose that is all that matters in retrospect; what only mattered to her then: transportation.

In 1986, The Temptations released the album, “To Be Continued,” which included the track, “My Lady Soul.” It was not too long after this we moved farther outside the desert away from nearly everyone in the Valley. One main road extended to our house, but people rarely decided to drive this far as it was then undeveloped, or to speak in builder’s terms simply “underdeveloped,” meaning five years until traffic lights, apartments, and Wal-Mart--which all happened by the way, I might add, although this is not the point. In summation, we learned something about music.

Back in the 80’s my mother’s head was full of curls; one curl sprang out from the next shaping a dozen roses, then rain clouds after he died. And those glasses! A little too big now according to modernity, but that was then and this is now; bifocals, too, were modish at some point in time. And somewhere during the time referred to here, those soulful crooners, The Temptations, appeared (yet again) with a new album. I didn’t altogether care for them, preferring the Four Tops instead; however, driving to school, doctor’s appointments, “errands,” as he would say, the four of us, piled into the back, all trying to avoid the “middle seat,” did not have a choice.

She forever played that song. We learned the words, parodied it, sang it to ourselves, never quite understanding the meaning of the song besides that she liked it, though nowhere even near Sam Cooke’s worst. “*I* take care of my kids," she’d say to C- , whenever he would interrupt the song with an overblown tabulation of his familial support. In this way, patriarchy suffocated and eventually died in the household. Because of this, I still have everything intact, not to mention the ability to laugh and cry.

I will not say she set out on this path. She would not--however endearing I try to make it seem--label herself as a revolutionary for loving and providing for her kids. After all, she first pressed her hair in ‘72. Besides that, I generally hate labels and am sure the people they’re applied to hate existing within the confines of words as well. Unfortunately, in this instance, I have no other way. When she reads this I hope she will understand that I understand, at least partially, the roses in the front yard, and the music.