I think my first memory of my mom is her carrying me on her shoulders through the mall. She would constantly be whispering jokes to me, little jokes between the two of us. She especially made fun of plastic. She’d say, “They’re all wearing oil. All their clothes. They don’t have anything on but oil.” I would whisper back to her, “They’re wearing dinosaurs. Dead dinosaurs drippy all over them.” She would whisper, “Trilobites.” I would whisper, “Old plants.” She would whisper, “It’s the height of fashion.” And I would say, “Missus — missus lady — those are some nice old plankton.”
