Ever get the feeling that parents steal your spotlight?
I only felt that way every single year.
Me and my mother were best friends growing up. We used to always spend amazing time together.
Although there were a few complaints celebrating mom’s race day with my birthday.
How could such a day be shared with a mother?
Well, My mom hurt deeply twice for 2 children who are now becoming adults.
Mom unknowingly did celebrate a holiday. As she raced my fathers 10/4 police code code. 104.
When I heard my name being cast out by the loud loud speakers at the races, celebrating my birthday, I couldnt help but feel a few things at once.
First things first, this is about my mom racing. Second of all, this IS my birthday and I’m so happy that its celebrated here. 3rd thing was how simple it was that all they did was call my name. I guess I wanted more than the fireworks at the end of the show and my name painted on the car all pretty and white ; with hot hot pink underneath.
Did I know anything about this day that I know now? I was clueless.
When I was younger, I didn’t understand why mom didn’t keep all of her trophies. A few trophies were given away to women who had breast cancer and I didn’t fully understand the meaning of that.
My mother’s ex friend, who was a race car driver on the same team, High Risk, is a fighter and survivor of breast cancer.
It really hurt me and all I could do was empathize.
High Risk really stood for something for me and my family.
I didn’t realize how it tugged at my whole family’s heart that my grandma went through and survived stage 3 breast cancer.
Her breast was cut shorter. She is a red head and was going to be a model when she was younger. She has always been very good with currency, says my mom, who told me the most beautiful story about mom’s efforts of rent being put away for when she was older enough to move out.
My grandparents are divorced. There was a family accident the same time John Wayne Gacey was in prison and caught for all his murders.
Grandpa was scared.
Nobody really knows what happened that day.
My mother fortunately is not the same person as my grandfather and in no way shape or form did he ever try to destroy a family he worked hard for.
From the stories, it sounded pretty rough.
My grandpa was a racecar driver. He was in the newspaper in the 70s. I remember being so happy to hesr that a grandfather won. Family pictures confirmed. A first place winner at a few points.
A huge family surrounded him. My grandmother had at least 7 siblings. My grandma’s side loved to be accepted at the track.
My uncle carried through and forward came a legacy, as a racecar driver. Full Throttle, painted in purple. My mom’s cousins built the cars.
They all raced for years. Separate teams, but that was the way my family found their light, their passion, their drive.
All of this happened at Santa Fe Speedway and the Dirt Oval, Route 66 in Illinois.
What a beautifully destroyed family.
Everyone grows up, everyone moves on.
Everyone got old,
And now im an adult,
I’ll tell their story.
