I don't remember the exact years, but I was young. Definitely before 1984 when the place closed. She took me there on Saturdays and sometimes on the 4th of July. 

Imagine my Mom back then - Long hair always in a bun, streaks of gray - formal. Polyester pants - black - no jeans (she never had a pair) and a blouse. A short, plump, pleasant Puerto Rican woman always with a smile.

Now put her in a small NASCAR race track. She was the opposite of "where's Waldo"! You can find her any where in the track. Not just because of what she wore, but more because of her howling at the cars - "ooooo....aaahhh...watch out".

I may have been young but I knew she was different; even back then. Nearing 50 years old and taking her young son to the races. I would sit back and look at her. She was different than the rest of the t-shirt, blue jean wearing fans. But she loved to take me to the races. Sure, my Dad would come to the races sometimes, but I think my Mom made a point to take me alone - just the two us. My Dad had fishing, she had the races!

The memories are clear and great. The action was incredible. The smell, the noise, the screaming, the heat and even cold (at night). The figure-8 races were nerve wracking! Mom loved them the most. I couldn't stand to watch! But the demolition derbies were at the end and my favorite. We never left early. She was there to the end. Enjoying my enjoyment. "A boy and his cars" as she would say. 

I cherish the effort and the memories she created with me. It wasn't easy going to these races. She never complained. She always had a smile on her beautiful face.

Thank you Mommy for the memories. It meant the world to me back then...and to me now.  

The seasons were changing. Fall was upon us in about 1980. Mom had a migraine so she was in bed. Me, the only son and the only one home that day, was bored. 

So what does a 10 year old boy do when he's bored? Yup, play with matches. This time it was lighting paper airplanes and throwing them into the covered hibernating swimming pool. Nice amount of water on top of the cover. No problems, right?

Wrong! 

Plane #4 took off with a good launch, but a gust of wind took it; a hard right turn and it shot into a large bush. This bush was about 5 feet tall, full, round, and of a nice shape. It appeared to be an ever-green but looking back, probably not based on the forensics. 

Anyway, Wichy Flight 4 from Commack took a flaming crash landing in the very dry bush. At first, I clapped and kicked the fire out. Just smoke. I took a step back and wiped my brow "that was close". Just as that little voice said those words, boom -  the bush lit up like a match in to a full inferno with fames 15+ feet high. 

Time to get the hose! The fires out! Whew - accident avoided, I thought. But then I heard sirens. Oh Crap!

Little did I know, although my Mom appeared aloof in the parenting department, she actually always had things going in the background. Our neighbor Joan, was watching me the whole time from her backyard. When she saw the fire - she called the fire dept. 

Boy, I was embarrassed. Fire department, police, neighbors - but no Mom. I had to get her. I was shaking in my sneakers. I wake her up and tell her some people need to speak to her. "About what?" she asks. "An issue in the backyard" I said. 

My Mom's hair was wild back then - long, wirery, jet black with silver streaks. And when she had these headaches, the hair was electrified and stood out what seemed 3 feet around her. 

As we get to the back door, I tell her the police and FD are here because I burnt a bush. She opens the back door, wild hair, WIDE eyes, puts her hand over her mouth and.....starts laughing...that infamous cackling laugh and says "My little baby Moses!!"

Awkward silence from all but the laughing woman with the crazy hair. The fire chief, slapped his arms by his side and left. The policeman asked a few questions and left. Joanie stayed to explain to no avail. My Mom still thought it was funny. I didn't because I was so embarrassed. 

My Mom refused to let my Dad or anyone else remove that bush for at least 2 years so she could re-tell the story of her baby Moses. It burned my every time but she had a laugh every time she told the story. 

Loved her sense of humor, compassion and understanding.