420: Coffee with Mom—Merry Freakin’ Christmas!

A cup of coffee with my with my mom.

I think we should all be on the floor with our feet up against the wall.

It kind of works.

Does it help?

Yeah, it helps.

It does.

It just takes the pressure off the

lower back.

You know what?

You know how I get relief?

When I go to bed at night, it really hurts.

I'm lying on my back.

And if I I bring it up.

Noble Tennessee whiskey?

If I bring my knees up toward my chin,

it feels much better.

Can you get your knees to your chin?

I can.

Wow.

That's impressive.

John can.

I can barely get them to my navel.

Well, she has to take her legs off.

John can't.

Oh.

No, I take my head off.

Well, it's nice to see everybody.

Mom, it's so nice to see you.

This is so weird.

People should know.

I'm like, I don't know.

Can you see her house from there?

Almost.

I'm looking toward it.

I'm probably 20 miles from where you are.

I'm downtown Baltimore.

I was over there at the home yesterday,

and we decided we wanted to do this today because it would be fun to be in person.

But of course, you can't do this in person.

with this Riverside setup.

We couldn't be in the same room without actual cameras.

So anyway, I'm here, but not here, if that makes sense right so i did get to see you yesterday that was a treat was it what did you like about it that you finally got here what is so exasperating about you mike

is that let's get right to it oh

let me get my list uh number one is that

You seem to find it very difficult to make a commitment to

when you're doing something.

I don't know.

Is that so?

Oh, you've noticed it, Chuck.

I don't know if that's on you or on your business, but you've been in town for several days and you were unable to tell me exactly which day you were coming to visit me.

And when you finally told me the day, you couldn't give me an approximate time.

which makes my planning a little difficult because I wanted to take you to lunch and,

you know but anyway I've gotten used to it I know you'll never change well look guilty is charged but my mistake was simply in telling you I was here

that was the mistake I didn't come to town specifically to visit you guys but you know I have a rule if I'm in you know the same time zone I'll always get by But if I tell you in advance I'm there, then I get slugged into whatever neatly ordered schedule drives your existence these days.

And I'm just looking at the text.

What'd I say?

On Thursday, I said, hi, mom.

I think the podcast will work fine on Saturday today.

I'm not going to make it up there tonight.

I have a dinner downtown.

I can't get out of it.

Maybe lunch tomorrow.

You say, okay, come by for brunch, lunch at 11.30 in the acorn.

Scott's running late.

He won't be here till 5 o'clock this evening.

Fine.

And then you write back at 11.40 40 p.m.

that night, which is like way past your bedtime.

I know.

Mike, we can eat at Lakeside tomorrow.

Breakfast is for 8 to 10.

Lunch is from 11 to 1.

So lunch suits us better.

We can probably eat at 11 since we will skip breakfast.

We have to eat again at 4 with our Friday evening friends.

You probably have plans, but if not, you are welcome to join us.

So, Chuck, if you listen carefully, you'll hear the passive aggression just under the surface.

So, I wake up the next morning, yesterday, I see this and I say, Mom, I've got a breakfast meeting.

I'm free after that.

I figured I'd come by around 11 or noon.

Probably won't be very hungry, but I can join you guys for lunch in the acorn anyway and hang out for a while.

To which mom says, Okay, Mike, if, quote, working us in is inconvenient, you can do it at some other time.

Maybe.

I mean, that's it.

Boom.

There it is.

I just like, good God, these guys, it's like a train schedule up there.

I mean, it's like every 10 minutes, there's a meal.

There's a different group of dining people.

Am I going to fit in with the breakfast people, the lunch people, the brunch people, the pre-supper people, the dinner people, the late?

You know, it's a big place, so it takes 15 minutes to walk to wherever they're going.

And if you're late, I literally got there.

My mom's clutching her bag by the elevator, going, Oh, well, look who it is.

It was just

on a scale from one to entire BS, how close is that?

Actually, it's about an eight.

Okay, that's not bad.

Good job, Mike.

What can I say?

It's the rhythm of the home, and we are totally immersed, and we are at the mercy of the meal schedules.

Now, if you come expecting a meal at 1.45, forget it, because nothing's open.

You know, there are certain hours when we are welcome to come and eat.

I mean, they're generous times,

but if you're not here, you can't eat.

I mean, I could get a takeout for you, but it's all about schedule.

Yeah, it is.

I mean, it's not about the food, though.

It's like dinner is not about the food.

Nothing is really about the thing.

It's about the getting together with the right people at the right restaurant.

There are like 20 restaurants in this place.

I think there are nine.

Oh, okay.

I mean,

that's more than it is in this hotel where I'm, by the way, here, let me show you what I tried to do, why I was a little late with all of this.

It's so pretty down here, and I wanted to set the computer up over here.

Look at Baltimore back there.

Is that awesome?

Yeah, that's gorgeous.

That's beautiful.

And by the way, we're trying to make this podcast more of

a visual feast for people over on YouTube.

Oh, good.

Well, I'm glad I wore my Christmassy sweater.

I am too.

Silver earrings.

And you have some red in your farmer shirt.

I love farmers.

That was not a put-down for farmers.

I believe they call it flannel.

Uh-huh.

Flannel.

It's a nice shirt.

Well, it's made in the USA.

Yarn dyed by our friends, an American giant who may or may not be sponsoring this conversation, but it is a comfortable shirt, regardless of whether they're paying me to say that or not.

Who made your shirt, Mom?

I don't know, but I bought it at the treasure chest for $3 the year we moved in because I didn't have anything all red.

And it's very comfortable

as as a zipper don't take it off don't take it off i'm not taking are you kidding

well we know you how you get your vitamin d so what yeah one day make it out there on the one day i did that

that's all it takes all your neighbors have to do is look out the window one day and see you splayed out there with the sunlight bouncing off your alabaster 87-year-old hide lucky neighbors

and there was no petition, and we didn't have to move, so that's a good thing.

Did Scott get to the airport okay?

No, but we took him to the car rental place this morning.

Oh, he's driving.

And he's on his way to a little town in New Jersey for his company Christmas party.

My middle brother, Scott, is an engineer.

He lives down in Florida, but he got hired by this company in New Jersey, and they're doing their big shin dig.

So

on his way to New Jersey.

See, Scott has taken the same pledge that I have, mom.

Anytime you're in the time zone or certainly in the state,

you got to come by.

So he was on his way to New Jersey and stopped to see you guys and stayed for a night.

And I guess he's going to stay, what, tomorrow night on his way back?

He'll be back tomorrow afternoon, and then he's going to leave on Monday.

But your brother, he's such an engineer.

My cousin Nancy called yesterday.

Well, she's been in real estate for years and she loves to talk to Scott.

And she said, Scott, I want you to know that realtors hate to sell to engineers.

They are so specific.

They come into the house and they want to check the water and the heating and they want to check how this is put together and that's put together.

Well, on our way to the car this morning, Scott was carrying a garment bag with his party outfit for tonight at the hotel.

The handle came off of the hanger inside the garment bag.

Well, I mean, anybody else would have just laid the garment bag over their arm and thrown the handle in the trash can, not Scott.

He stops, analyzes why that handle came off.

Well,

he got it put back on again.

By the time we got to the car, his hanger had a handle again.

That's engineer for you.

I would have, like I said, chucked it.

And I would have never brought a party outfit in the first place.

Sure, you would have.

I've seen you dress up for that

military thing that you go through.

Oh, yeah.

Well, that's different.

I wear my very best farmer shirt for that and my farmer suit and all of that.

My black tie farmer wear.

Yeah.

That's the Marine Corps ball you're talking about.

You sent me a picture and you really look good.

I mean, everybody there needs it absolutely looks their best.

But the thing about that ball that's so interesting is the youngest Marine is there, and he cuts the cake with a sword, and the first piece goes to the oldest Marine.

And I think the last time I went, the youngest Marine was like 19, and the oldest was 104.

And they're on stage, and there's a brass band, and it's very patriotic, and people stand and sing all the obvious songs.

But over all of it is just this heavy smell of mothballs.

I thought you were going to say noble whiskey.

No,

no, American Giant.

No, it's mothballs, man.

Everybody looks glamorous, but they only wear that tux or that gown once a year.

It was kind of like at the opera.

Remember, you'd go there sometimes and be like, wow, everybody's dressed up, but what is that smell?

It's mothballs.

I hadn't thought about that.

Now you know, and now we know

the rest of the story.

Yeah,

anyway, Scott has a party tonight, and he had a black.

Well, I know he had a Christmas tie, actually, instead of a black tie, but it's a fancy.

Who did I see yesterday over there at the home who had around

like a Hawaiian lei, except it was full-on Christmas tree lights all screwed in to like a closed circuit.

Literally, it's like a necklace made out of big Christmas tree lights.

Yeah, that was Dan.

He came to our table in Lakeside and joined us a little bit for lunch.

He's head of marketing here.

Yeah, the other guy had it, though, too.

Yes,

Todd Sullivan.

Yes.

He's an executive.

He's like the vice.

He's under the top executive.

Here's how weird it's gotten, Chuck.

I know we've talked about this before and laughed about it, but mom's book, Oh No, Not the Home, which is doing quite well, not to anyone's surprise, has done weirdly well, like shockingly, strangely well at the home itself.

I think everybody's read it.

People are walking around with it.

And you can't walk through this place with my mother and not get stopped every 10 feet by somebody who wants to know, hey, is

Carol on page 97 whose name was changed?

I think I know who that really is.

Right.

And there's like these constant conversations.

Or tell me, am I on page 85?

Is that me?

Because that sure sounds like me.

Well, yesterday.

was that on steroids.

They were doing some kind of open house and there were probably 100 people there, maybe more.

There were 200.

Wow.

200 people who come in to see if they want to live in this place.

And as I'm talking to

the head of sales, this woman comes up.

She's like, Peggy Rowe, I just want you to know that I'm moving in here because of this book.

I love this book.

It just made me want to live here.

And I swear to God, it was not set up, nothing.

And I'm just like, what is, what is going on here?

Chuck, you have to know that when we go any place with mike our family the rest of us are totally invisible it's all about mike because everybody knows who mike is and the rest of us just kind of fade into the shadows well this woman stopped to tell me about the book and then she looked over and she looked at scott she said i know you you're the son You're the son who lives in Florida.

I saw your picture in the book.

Oh, geez.

Well, it felt, I mean, I'm sure Scott kind of felt important.

I'm sure that's exactly how I felt.

Big day.

Big day for Scott.

His picture in a book.

Recognized at the home.

Scott truly couldn't give a crap about

any level of that.

I mean, he is as indifferent as you would hope an engineer would be to anything that could be confused with notoriety, celebrity, awareness.

He just doesn't care.

No, no, he really doesn't.

He's delightful.

Where's Dad?

Well, I believe he's in the kitchen reading right now.

He's supposed to play pool at two o'clock, so he'll be leaving shortly with his pool stick.

That's a sight too, Chuck.

Seeing my father walk around clutching what could be a shotgun.

It's in this black case,

you know, with like these flippers.

Or maybe a clarinet

could be a clarinet a big one you know but it's a pool cue

a friend here gave it to him and this friend is probably the best pool shooter here at oak crest i mean we have 2 000 independent living residents here

you're talking about will willie oh yeah you met him yesterday yeah He's been impressed by dad's diligence at the pool table and

had an extra pool cue.

So gave it to Dad and

Dad walks around with it.

He's proud of it and uses it.

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It's really funny how not very good most people are at pool who really enjoy playing it, including you and I, Chuck.

I mean, we've played for years.

We're not good at all.

But it's just one of those sports that you can really sink your teeth into no matter how incompetent you are at it.

And did you get good at it?

This is the funny thing.

Scott doesn't play pool,

but he's really

good with angles.

That's what I would think.

And so he played, they play a game called Captain with three people can play.

And

after they played last night, the women were in the library playing.

We play Pinochle or Rummy Cube.

We play games and the men play pool.

and Bob came up to me afterwards Bob Kaufman and he said

I've really enjoyed playing pool with Scott tonight he's a lot of fun and he's pretty good

and dad just said

to me this morning he said I was surprised Scott is really is really pretty good at the pool table you know he takes his time and he he measures and he

does what he has to do.

I was going to say, my friend Scott Flansberg, the human calculator, who's been on this podcast before,

he has a level of coordination that is on par with

his ability to see angles.

I don't think Scott does, but it's not that Scott's, my brother, is uncoordinated.

It's just that

most people can't do what Flansberg can do.

He'll run 30, 40 balls at a time

routinely.

Really?

Yeah.

He's just a lights-out pool player he can shoot uh free throws like

in basketball or even some tougher shots at the top of the key he'll just hit them one after the next one after the next he's a great basketball player he's only like 5'9 or 5'10 but he's super coordinated and golf good grief golf he can hit a ball 330 yards and he's basically a scratch golfer he's like an engineer he can see the angles but he can also you know throw throw bullseyes with darts just all day long.

And yeah,

Scott doesn't do that.

In fact, do you remember when we were giving him crap years ago about

either playing baseball in the backyard, playing catcher, throwing a frisbee, and he was making a mess of things.

And he said, well, whatever, golf is my game.

He plays once a year with the company when the company has their golf tournament.

He plays once a year.

But he always said growing up that golf was his game.

But he never played it.

He never played it.

Yeah, just never played it.

Golf's my game.

Just hoping nobody would call his bluff?

I guess none of us were golfers, so there was no danger.

There was nothing we could say.

It was like, well, who knew?

Who knew?

But yeah, the pool thing was so much fun for us.

There was a place, I don't know if we've talked about it here before.

We probably have, but Chuck and I used to to shoot pool in North Hollywood at a place called North Hollywood Billiards, which was

really just a great pool hall with a great jukebox.

But I think 99% of the people who played were migrant workers and Mexicans who came in.

We used to call it the, what do we call it, the Trumpet Palace?

Trumpet Palace, yeah.

Because of all the mariachi that they would play.

And then as soon as we came in, there was a very eclectic jukebox.

It had everything from mariachi to prince.

So yeah.

Did we tell you this story before, mom?

It sounds vaguely familiar, but I can't, I don't know where you're going with it.

So it's been a while.

It's just so inappropriate.

You have to imagine this happening at the pool hall at the home.

This is not really a pool hall.

They got three or four pool tables, but this place probably had, I don't know, 40 or 50 at least.

And they were all lined up.

And you got to imagine maybe 100 guys in there all day laborers, you know, and they're drinking corona and they're shooting pool and they're talking.

There's everybody's smoking, everybody's speaking Spanish, and everybody's shooting pool.

And the sound in the air is pure brass band.

It's just trumpets, just like the smell at the ball was mothballs.

The sound here was trumpets.

And Chuck and I would play and we liked it.

And then we discovered all the different things on this jukebox.

And

we started playing a song by Prince, which I'm sure you're super familiar with, Mom.

It was a big hit back in the 80s, I believe, called You Sexy Mother.

Oh, yes, you know what?

It's all coming back to you now.

Yeah, he does.

Do you remember this story?

We sing it in church frequently.

Chuck, sing a few bars.

How's it go?

Oh, well, you.

Really?

No, don't.

You don't have to say that word each time.

Well, we'll bleep it out, but I just want you to hear what our Mexican pool-playing brothers heard out of nowhere.

Ladies and gentlemen, Charles Klausmeyer.

You sexy mother.

Sexy mother shaking that ass.

Shaking that ass, shaking that ass.

Sexy mother, shaking that ass.

Shaking that ass, shaking that ass.

You sexy motherfucker.

So you have to imagine.

I mean, all these guys, it's just nothing but trumpets and trombones for hours.

And then this this happens, and they all just start looking at each other.

Yeah.

And then they start looking around.

But did they speak English?

Did they know what the lyrics were?

I think a lot of them did, yeah.

Oh, I think they were conversant.

Yeah.

It wasn't, where did that song come from?

It wasn't, why is that song being played?

It wasn't, hey, we've never heard that song played in here before.

It was,

who played that song?

And in that room, when you look around, two obvious suspects come to mind.

Yeah, we were routinely the only white guys in there.

Yeah.

Oh, boy.

Well, I'm

glad you didn't break out in song here yesterday, Mike.

That would have.

No.

They had a Santa Claus there.

There were Carolers.

Yeah, he took our picture.

Yeah, that song would have been amazing there at the home.

Oh, my goodness, Michael.

Don't even think about it.

That song would have killed at karaoke the other night.

Yes.

Yes, we had a company Christmas party.

Mom took the gang out.

You know, people flew in who don't work in California for us, about eight or nine, or I guess maybe 10 of us.

Took everybody out to a nice dinner, and then we went to some karaoke joint not far from the office in Santa Monica.

but a unique karaoke joint it wasn't just recorded karaoke it was a live band so you came up and sang karaoke with a live band

no pressure pretty great i mean so the band is pretty tight and people are coming up and they're doing their thing and chuck of course used to run a karaoke bar years ago what was it called like the bombay bicycle club Yes, which was a restaurant and bar, but they did karaoke on the weekends and I hosted it.

Yeah.

So

Chuck puts his name in, and he's going to sing, what it like, La Bamba or something?

That was like the only song that I thought.

I think I could sing that with a band because it's different.

You know, you don't, you have no bouncing ball or anything.

Oh, you don't have to know the song.

You're just in front of you.

Well, you have the lyrics, but there's no bouncing ball to let you know when you're supposed to come in or when you're not supposed to come in.

So you better know all that because all you have is the lyrics and you got a live band playing.

Yeah.

So there's like an iPad on a C-stand.

So you're looking at the lyrics.

There's a real band around you playing and a room full of people watching.

So it's a, you know, it's much more of a performance.

And so Chuck is going to sing La Bamba, or so he thinks.

How's that go?

Just so my mom understands.

Barabaya, La Bamba, Barabaya, La Bamba.

Senesa Sita, una poca de grazia.

You get the idea.

I recognize him.

Which would have worked very nicely at the Trumpet Palace, by the way.

Very much so.

Yeah.

But at the last moment, we're looking at the song sheet, and I don't know who it was that suggested it, but...

Well, what really sparked it, Mike, was that a certain someone there by the name of Jade

had a coat that she wasn't wearing, but it was there.

And this coat was white and fur.

like fake fur.

I got a picture of it in my phone somewhere.

See if you have one.

Yeah, I'm looking for one right now.

It looked like a costume that the abominable snowman would wear if he were being cast, right?

It was just a shaggy...

I mean, Jade's fashion is unbelievable.

Oh, so Chuck wore that?

Yes.

It was like, well, wait a minute.

If you put this jacket on, would that make Labamba somehow funnier?

And it was unclear.

But what was very clear would be if he sang a song by Rick James.

Now, if you go out as Rick James in that coat, well, that would be something.

And Chuck, that song was what?

Oh, Super Freak.

Sorry, it's called Super Freak.

Super Freak.

Did you do that one, Chuck?

I did.

I did.

And

I barely knew the chorus to it.

But yeah, there I am again.

There's another.

Did you bring the house down?

Totally.

Totally.

Yeah.

Yeah, that was a great moment, man.

That was good.

We don't hear much profanity here at the home.

And of course, I'm not.

Is that true?

I'm not famous.

My books don't have a lot of profanity or violence, language, or nudity, or porn.

I read a post recently where people

took umbrage with your book because of the profanity.

Wow.

I think it's your first piece of hate mail.

You know what?

I've got it here somewhere.

Oh, I would like to hear this.

For those of you who don't follow my Facebook page, I actually posted this.

My mother sent me a picture of it, and it's written in longhand

on lineless paper by somebody we'll call J.L.

Look at this thing.

Dag.

Oh, and at first I felt kind of badly because he takes me to task for using.

Apparently, I quoted.

There's an author who lives across the parking lot.

His name is Dick Elwood, and he's he's written six books or so.

He was a career Baltimore City policeman, and his books are good.

I mean, he's not a polished, accomplished.

He ain't Shakespeare, I say, in my book, but he can tell a story.

That's nice.

He can tell a story, and he's had many interesting experiences.

in his career.

And I quote him a little bit, and I use a couple of bad bad words in my book.

So I think that might be what Mr.

J.L.

was referring to.

But I mean, he wasn't nasty.

He just says to Peggy Rowe,

in Oh No, Not the Home, as in your other books, I have been shocked.

Wait a minute, as in my other books, I have been shocked by your obscenities.

Misspelled, but that's okay.

Especially from a woman who seems too dignified to set such a poor example.

Do you use that language with your children and grandchildren?

Or did you learn it from them?

Do you do that to make your books R-rated so they can sell better?

You come across as a woman who could be more respected except for your foul language.

I don't use foul language.

I take umbrage at that.

Just keep going.

Well, as you described on page page 202, well, okay, that's with the former sentence.

I looked at page 202, there's nothing on there.

I'm also on the edge of my seat when I read your books, wondering when I will come across one of your obscenities, misspelled again.

Please clean up your language so that I can sit back and enjoy.

Now, this is the good part.

and enjoy your funny and amazing experiences without being shocked.

On page 278,

you say that you were shocked by the language in the movies, and right after that, on the same page, you shocked me again.

It's very disappointing, Peg.

I only read your books because my daughter keeps sending them to me.

I doubt that she knows about your obscenities.

Misspelled again.

I really do wish that you were the kind of person I would be happy with for a neighbor.

Is this the real Peggy Rowe?

J-L.

He gives me his last name, but I don't know.

Or hers.

How do you know it's a him?

Well, I don't know.

I think

I looked him up on the internet, and there is somebody, a man with that name,

who is 78 years old.

And this looks like maybe a 78-year-old man might have written it.

But anyway, I think it's funny.

I'll cover up his name up here.

I think it's funny that he would take the time to sit down and write this letter in cursive

and then put a stamp on it and send it to me across the country.

Well, anyway, I don't want to hurt his feelings.

He sounds like he likes my writing except for the obscenities with a C in it.

But he only reads it because his daughter sends it to him.

I know.

Why does he keep reading my books if he's so shocked?

That's what I don't get.

Shameless plug.

Gosh, you know, I hate to interrupt my mom like this, but she'll probably understand that I'm interrupting her to remind you that it's a great time to pick up her latest book.

It's called Oh No, Not the Home.

It really is great.

She writes with such honesty about the people that she's met at this place.

People just love it.

Her other books are available as well over at my website, micro.com slash momsbook.

And you know, her pop was Carl Noble, the man who inspired Dirty Jobs, and then the MicroWorks Foundation, and most recently, a line of whiskey with his name proudly festooned upon it, K-N-O-B-E-L.

Noble, Tennessee whiskey comes in half a dozen different flavors now.

They're all available at noblespirits.com.

You buy a bottle online, it helps out the foundation.

It's a great cause.

It tastes delicious at noble spirits.com.

K-N-O-B-E-L Spirits.com.

Now, where was I?

Ah, yes.

Mim.

Soon may the noblemen come to bring a bottle for everyone.

One day when the waiting is done, we'll take a drink and go.

Because people love to be shocked.

People love to be offended.

And then they love to complain about the extent to which they've been offended.

That was not a thing when you were my age.

Today, that's new that's changed people delight in being scandalized and mortified and they especially delight in sharing their disappointment yeah

well you know i grew up in a home you knew your grandparents they did not use obscenities at all their language i kids sometimes that i grew up in a quaker family there was no language at all i mean sometimes my dad painted the air blue with, go to war, Miss Agnes.

Well, we knew it was something really serious.

Yeah.

So last week, I talked to my sister.

I talked to her every week, a couple times.

And she was down.

Janet's had a lot of physical problems this year, and she can no longer walk.

She relies on a wheelchair.

And she said it just kind of hit her all at once.

Or maybe it was the season.

season.

But she said she was getting teary and kind of weepy a lot.

And it just upset me because she's such an upbeat person all the time.

So I called her.

And

toward the end of our conversation,

I told her about this guy's letter and how he,

you know what?

Let me.

I have this.

It's your episode, Mom.

You do whatever you want.

Just keep your shirt on.

Okay, and zipped up.

I was headed to the mail room today when I suddenly missed my 90-year-old sister a couple of hundred miles away.

Perhaps it's just the season, but I needed to connect with her.

Janet has struggled physically this year, and a few days ago admitted to feeling teary from time to time.

I'm pretty good at cheering people up.

So when we spoke this evening, I shared a letter I had just received from a mister L, who claimed to be shocked and disappointed by my obscenities with a C in it in my latest book.

It's my first piece of hate mail, I told her.

Obscenities, what obscenities?

Your books don't have obscenities, my sister claimed.

Now, Janet would know because we grew up in a Quaker-like home where the word crap would send my mother's eyebrows to the ceiling.

And Janet has carried on the tradition.

We decided Mr.

L was referring to my neighbor's book, A Career Cop in Baltimore City.

Dick tells it like it is, and I quoted some of his colorful language in Oh No, Not the Home.

Before saying goodbye, I went out on a wispy twig and signed off by wishing my sister a f mean good night.

Well, it's been a while since we shared such a belly laugh together, followed by another one when she responded, I'll try my damnedest.

I can only hope hope our parents didn't hear us.

Maybe you can lift someone's spirits this holiday, whatever it takes.

Oh, man.

If there's any justice, Mr.

or Mrs.

L

is listening to this right now.

That's fantastic.

Oh, God.

Well, you know, I don't use that word gratuitously.

Is that a good word?

Gratuitous.

Yes, gratuitously.

That's a great word.

For no reason.

Yeah.

That's an excellent reason.

I got a laugh.

Got a laugh out of everything.

It picked up

spirits.

Well, did you approve of my response on the Facebooks as I tried to defend your honor?

Well, I thought you used the word, an S-word, gratuitously, five or six times.

Well, I was quoting you.

You know what?

Honestly, it was more like 12 or 20.

I think it was a little bit.

Ho, ho, ho.

Just the season to be jolly and holy.

So maybe we should talk about something else other than.

I don't think so.

I think what we're going to talk about is a mother's attempt to delight her many fans and her son's desire to protect her honor in the wake of her first bit of hate mail.

I think there's a seasonal, joyful message in that, you know, beyond the language, anyway.

I think people would appreciate it, at least knowing, you know.

Well, as long as you know when and where to use it, it's okay.

Because I posted that letter.

I mean, I posted this on my Facebook page.

And I have hundreds of thousands of fans, not as many as you do, but.

No, no, we're close.

I read quite a few of the comments.

I mean, there are almost a thousand comments, and I read quite a few.

And nobody took exception to my language.

Nobody was offended.

I mean, if they were, they didn't leave a comment.

I didn't read the comments to this.

Chuck, do you want to hear this?

Should I read this thing real quick?

Yes.

Do you think you'll offend your listeners?

I doubt we have any still listening at this point.

But if we do, they're probably either all living at the home or related to you.

So I doubt it.

The other day, I watched you on a podcast where that word was used liberally.

It wasn't your podcast, but you were on with somebody else, Joe.

Joe Rogan, I believe his name is.

And you were, I mean, he's never heard of him.

He was saying the F-word, and you guys were smoking cigars like we're in a bar somewhere.

I'm glad you didn't invite me to be on that.

Look, the things that happen when you're not around, you know, sometimes,

sometimes Chuck is singing inappropriate songs.

Sometimes we're shooting pools.

Sometimes I'm smoking cigars.

This Joe Rogan guy is kind of new to the podcast game, but

I think he's got

some potential.

He's got jobs.

Yeah, for sure.

Yeah.

He'll be all right.

Does have a bit of a potty mouth, but his people seem to like him.

Does he have any following?

Not much.

No.

Not much.

But again, I think

with a little bit of luck, he could probably carve out a piece.

Anyway, mom sends me the letter she read from Mr.

or Mrs.

L,

and I just posted it.

And what I said was, Dear Mr.

or Mrs.

L,

I'm writing to inform you that my mother has noted your disappointment with her occasional use of obscenity in her various best-selling books, including her most recent masterpiece, Oh No, Not the Home.

Your letter attached, along with a brief note from my mother, arrived in my inbox this morning.

Dear Michael, well, I guess it was bound to happen.

I finally heard from someone who doesn't like my writing.

I'm not sure how to respond, but given the number of people that you've disappointed over the years with your own reliance on vulgarity and smut,

I thought perhaps you might have some advice, much love, mom.

Before we delve into my own reliance on vulgarity and smut, I want to say that my mother and I appreciate the time you took to express your disappointment.

Moreover, we were both impressed by your grammar, spelling, I said ironically, sentence structure, and overall syntax.

So many people these days, especially those who wish to offer the kind of gentle rebuke you have provided here, diminish their points with myriad mistakes.

Not so with you.

We were also impressed by the fact that you took the time to express your criticisms in a handwritten, cursive note.

Not only is your penmanship legible, it appears on a piece of paper with no lines, and yet your sentences remain neatly ordered and easy to read.

That's a real talent, Mr.

or Mrs.

L.

We also noticed the way your carefully chosen words filled every square inch of the page without a lot of unnecessary crowding at the very end.

Another indication that this is not the first letter you've written to someone you've never met to share your disappointment.

So far, so good, right?

Yeah, nothing offensive at all.

As for your primary concern, my mother's purported penchant for obscenity, spelled incorrectly, I can only tell you that the instances to which you refer do not reflect her actual vernacular, at least not in a way that should cause offense to any grown-up.

The fact is my mother, like her mother before her, would never use bad language in the course of expressing her own thoughts.

In fact, my mom and my grandmother positively deplored the crassness to which you object, and they both criticized it whenever they encountered it.

However, both women were far less scrupulous when quoting other people.

And that's the point.

This is precisely what happens in most of my mother's runaway bestsellers, including her latest triumph, Oh No, Not the Home, which can can still be purchased in time for Christmas at micro.com slash momsbook.

Now, as for my own reliance on vulgarity and smut, to which she so casually alludes, I believe my mom was referring to the many hundreds of letters I received 20 years ago that reminded her of yours.

Letters from angry viewers who thought I was cursing on dirty jobs when in fact, I was not.

The trouble began for me way back in season one when a large rat jumped into my lap while I was filming in a sewer.

In my surprise, I yelled, holy crap, before leaping to my feet, smashing my head on the top of the tunnel and falling face first into a river of filth.

Given the environment and the conditions, holy crap seemed a harmless and completely appropriate exclamation, but the network was concerned.

They believed the word crap might be offensive to a handful of their most sensitive viewers, so they bleeped it out when the episode aired.

Consequently, millions of viewers, including my own mother, assumed that I had said something much worse.

In fact, my mother called me immediately after that episode aired, demanding an explanation.

Michael, why did you say shit on national television?

What's wrong with you?

Don't you know that shit is a bad word?

I do, Mom, but I...

didn't use that word.

What I said was crap.

Mom was dubious.

Why would they bleep you for saying crap, she said.

Crap Crap isn't a bad word.

Are you sure you didn't say shit?

It sure looked like you said shit.

I'm positive, mom.

I definitely said crap.

But don't they understand that bleeping crap makes everyone think you're really saying shit?

She asked.

I don't know, mom.

All they told me is that every time I say crap, they're going to bleep me.

Great, said mom.

Now everyone will think your father and I raised a son who says shit on national television.

Do you have any idea how much crap we're going to get at church this Sunday from people who think you're saying shit?

Well, then, I said, if they're going to bleat me every time I say crap, I guess I might as well say shit, especially when I'm in a sewer and up to my neck in it.

Watch your mouth, Michael.

Shit is a bad word.

Please don't say shit.

See what I mean, Mr.

L?

We're Mrs.

L.

My mother deplores crass language and only uses it when she's quoting other people directly or referencing the word itself.

Please send your letter of apology to the same address and have a wonderful holiday.

Warmly, Mike Rowe.

P.S.

Her next book, Seven Words You Can't Say on the Shitter, should be out later this year.

You can reserve a copy today at micro.com slash mom's book.

That's the one that sent me over the edge.

The P.S.

is the one that made me just spit my coffee all over my computer.

What can I say?

Lovely response.

Look, we're living in a weird time, Mom.

Content is a strange thing.

Social media is a weird thing.

I wrote that on a plane after reading the handwritten note that you posted.

I stand by every word of it.

People have just listened to it now.

They're still listening, in fact, dozens of them anyway.

I mean.

Maybe if they haven't turned it off.

Well, probably more than are listening to Joe Rogan now.

Probably.

Seriously?

I thought he had a big following.

Oh, you do.

You do.

Joe Rogan, I think.

You're putting me off.

Yeah, I think 12, maybe 14 million people listen to that conversation.

But it goes on for three hours.

I couldn't stay on to the end of it.

It just is too long.

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We're at 52 minutes and 54 seconds right now, and I got to think it's probably time to land the plane with that in mind.

Yeah.

Oh, really?

Have we said anything about Christmas?

Anything holiday related?

Why don't we start now with your warmest wishes to everybody?

What do you want to tell people out there this Christmas season?

Please say Merry fucking Christmas.

Don't hold your breath for that one.

No,

you know, living here at the home has really opened my eyes to

the fact that Christmas is a sad time for a lot of people.

I met a woman in the hall the other day, a friend.

I've gotten to know her well here in the last three or so years.

And she's known for being upbeat and happy all the time.

And she can make me laugh.

She's a funny person.

And she wasn't even smiling.

And then she wiped her cheek.

And I asked her, What's wrong?

She said, I'm sorry.

This is a rough time of year for me.

I miss my husband.

I miss my mother.

It's just a sad time.

So I told her about my sister.

I said, and apparently there's a very mild medication that you can take that relieves anxiety.

And a lot of people find that it helps them, you know, through a difficult period.

And somebody else, so that's three people that I've just come into contact with this week who are having a hard time this Christmas season.

And I'm a happy person.

But, you know, there are times when I remember Christmas is past,

how wonderful they were, and it's not the same now.

I have family and I love them and they love us, but it's just not the same.

And I think at this time of year, it's about the memories and, you know, they're just not the same,

you know, with children running around and gifts under the tree.

And

they were really special times.

Do you think people romanticize it in hindsight?

I I agree.

You know, when I think of the Christmases we had when I was a boy, I remember them the way I heard it, right?

But I wonder how much of a patina we put on it sometimes.

And I wonder if that is part of the reason why a lot of people get down this time of year.

Was it really as good as you remember it?

Is it really as bad as you think it is right now?

I don't know.

Well, it was as good as I remember it, and it's not bad now.

It's just not the same.

you know.

It's a different season, it's a different season in life

or the same season of the holidays.

It is, and you know what?

And the truth is,

we have three children, and we would be more than welcome at each of their homes over the holidays.

You know, traveling is just not very pleasant when you're older and you have to drag along a lot of medications and

Ho, ho, ho.

And it's metamucil at three o'clock and your

and your thyroid medicine half hour before breakfast and your

and your pills after dinner and your breakfast pills.

I love a good after-dinner pill.

I do too.

You know what?

You should decorate the tree with them.

That's another thing.

Our tree is a ceramic tree.

I have two of them.

We don't put a tree in it.

It's tough to get the things to stay on there, the ceramic tree.

You know what?

Living where we do, I don't know.

Mike, you were not here long enough last night, I believe, to appreciate the beautiful decorations for Christmas.

I've seen them.

They do an amazing job there overall.

It's pretty great.

Every lobby has a huge Christmas tree just laden with bulbs and decorations.

Every night of the week, there is a sing-along, a carol sing-along.

And

in every lobby.

There's a hot cider festival.

There's eggnog.

I mean, they do everything they can here to make people happy.

Because

for a lot of people,

the Christmas that we get here at Oak Crest is their only Christmas.

They don't have relatives or loved ones.

Anyway, so Christmas season can be a downer.

What was your question?

Do you remember?

My question was:

What's your wish to the audience in this Christmas season?

Oh, yeah.

And I think you've basically just said everybody to draw a warm bath and sharpen the steak knives.

So

you know what?

Well,

I wish everyone a Merry Christmas, of course.

And I hope that you can

spend it.

Be super freaky.

Merry freaking Christmas.

Merry freaking Christmas.

Oh, my God.

Well, I'll tell you what we'll do.

They'll have a special Christmas.

We won't be here for Christmas because some friends invited us to their home.

Some good friends invited us to their home.

They do every Christmas.

Where are you going?

Are you leaving the compound?

The reservation?

Well, yes, and we're driving four miles to our friend's house, Pat and Richard, and we'll have a lovely meal.

There'll just be four of us and then we'll probably play some games and just being with people that you enjoy and that you really like is a good thing and then we'll come home and if there's time we might play a couple of games of pool we might watch the Christmas story and of course throughout the day we will get phone calls from our children who miss us oh constant phone calls and wish we were with them

well that's for sure even when they show up late for a breakfast that they explained they wouldn't be coming for in the first place.

He managed to eat a lot.

It wasn't easy.

Because you were so late getting here.

It was more like lunch.

We call that a bang-bang.

Yeah.

Two meals back to back.

Back-to-back.

Well, for us, it was bang, bang, bang.

No, actually.

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.

Michael, that chicken salad they serve at Lakeside.

It's just wonderful.

And I brought one back, and Scott had it for his breakfast this morning.

It was, it has nuts and cranberries, and

it's just wonderful.

These guys, Chuck, can stretch a meal into a week.

They'll bring it home.

They'll triple down on desserts and whatever extras, and then they just proportion them out.

It's like the loaves and the fishes.

It's just, there's always stuff.

Yeah.

There's always stuff in the fridge from meals that, you know,

three, four days old.

It's amazing.

So anyway, Christmas goes on and I went to a Christmas celebration the other night at the Acorn.

I got out my pad and pencil because I was alone.

Your dad was playing shuffleboard.

And I sat at the bar with the ginger ale with my pad and pencil, just looking around.

I took some pictures, but Dan was there.

with his guitar and he played and there was a sing-along for like 40 minutes and then there were videos.

I just looked around at people's expressions, and they were, you know, having a drink with friends or and some appetizers.

It was just a fun time.

The place was packed, the lobby outside was packed, the lounge alongside was packed, Christmas trees visible out every little window.

It was

very festive, and I'm not complaining.

You know, Christmas is good.

And of course, your father is the liturgist at church in December.

So we'll be at church tomorrow, and that's always special fun over the Christmas season and Christmas Eve.

And if you recall, last Christmas night,

Christmas Day night, your father had a horrific heart attack.

That's right.

So whatever happens this Christmas will be better than last Christmas.

That's for sure.

You know what?

I guess that kind of rhymes a little bit.

That was the hardest Christmas ever for you, I'm sure.

Oh, yeah.

Certainly for me.

It certainly was.

It was horrible.

And here we are a year later.

That's my Christmas wish, too.

Would you just describe this idea that, I mean, it struck me the other day when I was leaving as I'm walking down these long...

hallways and you don't know what's going on behind those doors and you don't know who's grieving.

You don't know who's up.

You don't know who's down.

You don't know who's who's struggling.

But you have to assume that in a facility filled with people, most of whom are in their 80s and 90s, I guess, you know, older maybe, that they've had loss and they've had tragedy and that the holiday is tough.

And to be able to walk out and down a hall and past a holiday tree and, you know, Christmas caroling and to a place.

where a woman is sitting at the bar sipping her ginger ale, writing it all down, and a guy's playing his guitar and people are singing,

That's community.

That'll save your ass, I think, you know, when the chips are really down.

Beautifully said.

Who doesn't want his ass saved on Christmas?

Amen, sister.

Oh, gosh.

Well, this was odd, but I like it.

From Prince to Rick James.

to Labamba to Christmas carols to old traditions and new friends and all of it, Mom.

Yeah, here's to old traditions and new friends.

Mm-hmm.

What are you drinking there?

Wassail?

This is coffee with mom, isn't it?

Coffee with mother?

Oh, yeah.

Yeah, it sure is.

Okay.

I went with vodka with mother.

Vodka with Chuck.

It looks strangely like water.

It always does.

Chuck's going with I'm alone in my bedroom drinking vodka.

What's your Christmas wish?

Yeah.

And you should pick up the stocking part of your cap when you say that.

I would say,

oh, well, go ahead, you sign off.

No, go ahead.

You asked me a question.

I'm going to ask a podcast for me.

Would you?

No, no, go ahead.

I thought you asked me a question.

That's all.

What was the question you thought I asked?

Tell us about your Christmas, Chuck.

What do you wish for people?

My Christmas wish?

Just remember that the reason for the season, John 3, 16.

For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son.

Oh, what a nice way to take us out.

I would have said that.

You and Charlie Brown really nailed it.

I love Charlie Brown.

That's a good one.

Yeah.

All right.

That's it.

That's all I got to say.

That's it.

Good for you.

Good for you, Chuck.

Sharing your faith with people, jamming it down their throats and whatnot.

I think that's great.

Get in there.

But no one did it better than Schultz.

You know, Lee Mendelson tells that great story of getting peanuts on the air.

A Charlie Brown Christmas was a tough sell.

It was a tough sell.

And to have, I think, Linus quoting Luke.

Yeah, like a lot of it, the whole Christmas story.

Yeah.

Yeah.

The executives did not want that.

You know, and to get Vince Geraldi's soundtrack, that weird, jazzy thing, and that sad little Christmas tree that nobody wanted, but Charlie Brown would put one bulb on the top.

Remember, it pulls the whole thing over.

And Linus wrapped his blanket around the trunk, and that made everything good.

That's what this conversation was.

It was not a traditional ho, ho, ho, everything is going to be great.

It was an honest look at

the unexpected music of the season with some language you might not expect to hear in church or find in a traditional greeting card.

True detail.

True det.

With a little John 3.16.

Yes.

All right, guys.

Well, wonderful to see you.

Merry Christmas to everyone listening.

Thank you for making Coffee with Mom, my favorite episodes of this podcast and for making this podcast

so much bigger than Joe Rogan's.

I'm so grateful for that and so surprised by the many, many,

many, many millions of listeners we have now.

So that's what I'm grateful for, Chuck.

Awesome.

Goodbye, everybody.

Merry Christmas.

Goodbye.

Love you all.

Ho, ho, ho.

Merry Christmas.

Really?

Everyone?

You don't really love everyone.

You all three.

I think she was talking to us.

Yeah.

I was talking to you guys.

You know what?

You know who else I love?

Who?

Mr.

or Mrs.

JL.

I really hope they're having a great holiday, regardless of their relationship with the English language.

I hope so.

All right.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Here's to the guys who advertise and subsidize the podcast that I do.

They spend their dough, and you should know before you go.

That's why it's free for you because it's free.

I hope you see and then agree.

Their bottoms should be kissed.

Without the guys who advertise, this show would not exist.

There's no podcast without a sponsor.

Thank them for paying the frate.

Please don't fast forward through their commercials,

even ones that you hate.

There's no podcast without a sponsor.

Thank them for paying the frate.

Please don't fast forward through their

commercials,

even the ones you hate.

Well, we did it again, my friends.

We got through another year.

Unbelievable.

Thanks, of course, to the generous support of our many sponsors, who, in no particular order, include my friends at Pure Talk, BuildSubmarines.com, BetterHelp, Zip Recruiter, American Giant, Prize Picks, Aura Frames, Go Ruck, NetSuite, Noble Tennessee Whiskey, and of course, oh no, but not the home by Peggy Rowe, which you can pick up over at uh mike row.com/slash mom's book.

Merry Christmas to all

and to all a good night.

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