The editor? He’s her fault …
In honor of Mother’s Day, I asked my mom, Linda Boegle, if I could interview her. Quite reluctantly and nervously, she agreed—although she will go down as one of the more hostile 15 Minutes interviewees in quite some time. The Gardnerville native, a 1962 graduate of Douglas High School, has been married to my dad, Allen, since 1963. She is currently a housewife, and she has worked as an office manager, a retail clerk and a postal employee. She lives in Steamboat, where she is raising her “second son"—a miniature schnauzer named Bonz.
Why are you so nervous?
Come on, Jimmy.
Seriously, why? It’s just me.
I just don’t like doing interviews.
Really? So, how often do you do interviews?
There’s no secret interviewing life I need to know about?
I refuse to answer you. You’re not going to put this all in there, are you?
I think I am.
Jimmy! You’re going to make me look like a fool!
Trust me, I will be the only one looking foolish. So, which one of the kids is your favorite?
You are, because you are the ONLY kid.
Whew. It’s a huge relief to be the favorite, as an only child.
I am sure.
What was the most embarrassing thing I did as a kid?
I don’t think you ever did anything that embarrassed me.
Until the News & Review …
Yeah, until right now.
Now, I would never do anything to humiliate you.
Nope, not until now. But this is going to be in print, and people are going to read it.
Well, how has the interview been so far?
It’s kind of like being cross-examined in a courtroom.
I may have to consider you a hostile witness. So, what’s your most embarrassing moment?
When your dad kissed me through the veil on our wedding day. He was so nervous, he forgot to lift it.
What was going through your mind when he did that?
It’s been 38 years, Jimmy. I can’t remember.
So, what do you want for Mother’s Day?
I’ve already got it: you and Allen. I don’t need presents.
Come on, now. None of this mushy crap.
Well, flowers are always nice. I like flowers.
Well, thank you for fitting me in your busy interviewing schedule.
Oh, and next Sunday, you get to fix me dinner, since I always fix you dinner. Your turn. Ha ha.
That is, if you’re still speaking to me after this comes out.
Heh. You’ve got that right.