It's actually dinner time on a Tuesday night, which is not standard blog-writing time, but I'll spend most of tomorrow driving back up to Jacksonville so I thought I'd delay my evening meal in order to start this blog. I'm not sure when I'll finish this, nor have I a clue when it will be posted, so it might very well end up being Wednesday before this sees the light of day. To me, that's better than not blogging at all...

When I last left you, I was hustling to write a quick installment on Monday morning, trying to wade through the pea-soup fog in my head to come up with some sort of coherent replay of how Sunday happened. Like any writer, I looked back on it later and wished I'd had more time, more wide-awake brain cells, or more talent (actually, all three) but at least I got it out there and a lot of people seemed to like the rushed and furious pace of it. That would be appropriate, in the end, because Sunday's pace did go from sleepy and leisurely in the wee early hours of the morning, to fast, furious, and unrelenting for the rest of the day.

And here's one thing I'm proud of... As many people have noted via email, my decal work looked good on TV. I can't tell you how much I hate it when I see the car in either photographs or on the tube and I immediately spot either a crooked one or something that just doesn't look right to me. When I finished this car, I stood back and was happy with how it looked and now I'm even happier, because it did turn out rather nicely, and I really appreciated the comments so many people sent my way. And, I suspect, decal placement and application was probably not something many of those who emailed had ever thought much of, before.

Most of those pesky decals also stayed pretty much in place throughout the weekend, which is also a good thing. Flames, vibrations, and 300 mph all conspire to do unbelievable things to little sticky decals, and it's impossible for all of them to survive all those elements, but I only had to get the razor blade out and trim a few flapping edges by the end of the day. I give credit to the Ford Shelby Mustang, for being so swoopy and sleek it doesn't put as much strain on the decals!

And speaking of people who have emailed me, I once again have to offer up a very sincere apology. I've never been so upside down and swamped as I am right now, in terms of even attempting to reply to people who have taken the time to drop me a note, and that eats at me like a headache. Since the first time I wrote one of these blogs I've done all I can to respond to as many people as possible, but the Gatornationals win obviously touched a lot of people because my in-box is overloaded, but at the same time my days are busy and my brain is mush, so it's all gotten me far behind. It may take a week, but I'm still going to give it a shot to respond to every note...

Anyway, once I finished the Monday blog I headed over to meet my sister Mary at the assisted living center where my mom lives, and we headed in to see her. I will say this: I am SO GLAD I went there and did this. Frankly, I was prepared for the worst and yet I walked out of there feeling so happy to be my mother's son and to have lived such a rich life because of what she and my dad provided for all of us. This is normally private stuff, but I've always been pretty open on this blog so I might as well be candid and let you know she has been moved to the hospice side of the facility and won't be with us for very long. That's why I went to Sarasota after the Gainesville race.

When we found her in the public area of her floor, she was napping in a big chair. Mary gently touched her on the shoulder and she woke up, said hello to both of us, and then looked me right in the eye. I haven't seen my mom for a while, but I thought that was remarkable and in my gut I felt that somewhere deep within her she knew it was me, her youngest boy. Perhaps, though, it was just my willingness to submit to my imagination... Mary lives close by and sees her all the time, and later, after we left, the first thing Mary said was "My gosh, she sure locked right on to you, didn't she?" So I hadn't imagined it. That's why I'm so glad I did this and saw her. Rather than the visit being as I had feared, wherein I'd be left with the image of a shell of my former mother, I feel like we briefly got to connect, and she smiled a very happy smile.

I got a post-race email from Sergeant Jim Olson, who works for the Cypress, Calif. Police Department, and Jim (whom I do not know) kindly wrote "Enjoy your time in Florida with your mother and sister. After reading what you wrote about your mother, might I suggest sharing in your blog what type of mother she was and what she means to you? All the NHRA stuff is cool; however nothing is more important than family."

Well Jim, I am a product of two of the most amazing people anyone could have for parents, and I'm equal parts both of them. Most people know my dad was a life-long baseball man, and I obviously got some of those genes (not quite enough to follow him to the big leagues, but a good enough amount to get a college education and a short pro career out of it). My mom, though, gave me what's between my ears. She was, over the years, a radio personality on KMOX in St. Louis, a writer, a PR expert with her own agency, a deep thinker, and a barrier buster in terms of gender equality in the workplace.

Beyond that, she not only gave me the communications skills I possess, she also instilled in me the fairness, tolerance, and appreciation for diversity that I am proud carry on as a Wilber. It was my mom who raised me to be color blind, to be tolerant of other people's differences and their own agendas, and open to ideas that might not specifically help only me. I cannot recall a day in my life, even as a very small child, when I was not firmly aware of how lucky I was to be born into this family, and how clear my mother made it that others might not be so lucky, and that we should all be willing to help, willing to understand, and willing to share.

She also raised me and kept me alive. My dad was gone so much with his baseball career that most of us were raised more by Mom than by Dad. For me, as the fifth and final kid, I just happened to also be born with horrible asthma, very bad allergies, and just an overall lousy bill of health, and it was my mom who gave me the shots (sometimes daily, always weekly), hauled me off to the wide variety of doctor's offices I had to visit every week, and made sure I had my medicine and could breathe. It's not fun to be five years old and gasping for every breath while all the other kids are outside playing "kick the can" in the street, but she was always calm and there's no doubt that helped me. When I got through each bout and started feeling better, she would always take me to Steak 'N Shake, so perhaps it's now more clear why I love those delicious steakburgers to this day.

In a nutshell, that's my mom.

Mary and I both left her feeling really good about our brief visit, and for the rest of the day I was in the hands of my near-twin sister. We were born only 11 months apart, so all the years before college consisted of the two of us helping each other grow up, and we only wished we'd have been born in the opposite order. That would've made it so much easier in terms of finding dates for each other during high school... LOL. As it was, none of her friends wanted to date her "little brother" and all of my friends were intimidated by older girls. So, during those times when we both were "between dates" we'd basically just hang out with each other. I probably went to more concerts and movies with Mary than I did with any other girl in high school... That's why it's always so easy to see her, and her family.

She drove me all around the area, along the beaches and through some wonderful neighborhoods (both she and her husband Lonnie are in real estate, so she knows all the cool places) and then we had "Grouper Fingers" at a place called The White Elephant (where we watched dolphins playing just a few yards out in the open water) followed by dinner at wonderful little waterside restaurant called Pop's, where we were joined by my niece Kim and her boyfriend Brad, who have just recently moved down here from St. Louis. For the record, Grouper Fingers, just like Walleye Fingers at Shorty's place in Minnesota, are delectable. And no, Grouper fish don't actually have fingers either...

Today, I got up at the crack of 9:00 (still recharging after the race) and headed down to Fort Myers to meet up with the Finkster and attend the Twins game at Hammond Stadium. You know, when Barb and I moved to Minnesota in 2002 the Twins were one of the teams MLB was considering for elimination. They weren't drawing well and they weren't playing well, so the commissioner picked them (along with the Expos) as teams to be "contracted" and sent off to baseball heaven as nothing more than a memory. Fortunately, some Minnesotans in high places kept that from happening and what has occurred since is nothing short of remarkable. Since 2002, they've always been contenders, they've developed an incredibly loyal fan base, and now we're getting ready to move into Target Field with the prospect of the Twins actually selling-out the entire season before the first pitch is thrown! Who'da thunk...

That same wonderfully loyal and devoted fan base is also on display in Fort Myers, and I discovered that when it took me 40 minutes to get from the freeway exit to the ballpark, which is all of five or six miles away. They fill Hammond Stadium for every game, and gosh it was fun to be surrounded by Minnesotans, all decked out in their Twins garb, down here in Florida. The PA announcer also takes great joy in announcing the current weather conditions, for both Fort Meyers and the Twin Cities, just so everyone feels just a bit more comfortable down in sunny Florida.

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It's great to be in Sarasota!

 

Tomorrow, back up to Jacksonville and then I'll get to fly home... It will be great to hug my wife, pet Da Boyce, and see how the bathroom project is coming along. Barb has been sending me pics of the new tile in the shower and the other parts of the job, so I'm really looking forward to getting back home.

Then, next week I'm off to Charlotte to see if Mr. Wilkerson can stay hot and win some more rounds. It's great to have gotten that first win under our belts so early, and now we want more! Somehow, I'll find room for more Wally trophies in my office... Even if we have to build an extension.

Back in a few days, gang. Thanks for the support, the great emails, and for letting me write about my mom.

Wilber, out!