“But I am determined to do some reporting as well. And question my mother. My mother is the half-hugger. Whenever I see her, she can only give me a one-armed hug. It’s like having that guy from The Fugitive for a mother. I land at O’Hare in the early evening and call her. “Last American,” the only words she says, even though this has been the drill for the past twenty years when I come home at least three times a year and walk out to the curb and stand under the last American Airlines si...gn and maybe ten minutes later the Regal pulls up. I hear the tunk! of the trunk popping as she sits inside. I drop my bag in the carpeted cube, note that her emergency kit is still there: flares, Band-Aids, an orange distress flag to hang on her antenna in case she is buried in a snowdrift—even though she has no antenna. I slam the trunk and walk around, open the door. I lean over, peck her cheek. “Hi.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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