Cameron Jackson
Once every month, Lou would take one of the boys on a special night. Anything they wanted to do. My dad remembers that his brothers, when it was their turn, chose to do what boys their age might be expected to do: they went to toy stores, went bowling, ate hamburgers, ice cream. When it was my dad's turn though, they did something different. They ate sushi together. He learned to use chopsticks and ate raw fish for the first time and caught a glimmer of a whole other culture, a hint at the hugeness of the world. After that, they went to the opera. He was wowed. I can only imagine how different the opera must have been compared to day to day life for a young kid from Georgia playing half-rubber every night and catching crawdads. It was something that he's remembered his whole life, that special night with her, even if he did fall asleep during the third act.
In life its so easy to forget how important these things are, how much one night a mother had with her son can change everything for him. Life is then seen for the gift that it is, a corner of the wrapping paper peeled back, ready to be opened.
Much love,
Cameron Scott Jackson
