By Patsy R. Brumfield/NEMS Daily Journal
My lawyer son got an interesting tweet earlier this week. It said, “I didn’t know your mother was Norma Fields!”
Frankly, you have to be a person of a certain age to write that comment.
Then again, you have to be a person of a certain age even to know what that means, which in this case was incorrect.
Perhaps the tweeter thought I had passed on to my great reward, as has my professional forebear.
Perhaps he was serious.
Or perhaps he was paying me a compliment with the comparison – suggesting that I am some pioneering, tough-talking, a$%-kicking reporter.
I’d like to think it was the third option.
It’s also a bit difficult to process the fact that I am old enough to be the mother of probably half our newsroom.
Our food editor, Ginna Parsons, paid me a supreme compliment earlier this week as we enjoyed delicious Indian food east of town.
As I suggested my own possible retirement in three years or so, she said, “Oh, are you taking early retirement?”
“Ginna, dear,” I said, “I am 63 years old. This wouldn’t be early retirement. It would be the full deal.”
My goodness, she sputtered, I thought you were in your 50s.
In your 50s … now, that’s sad when that’s a compliment, isn’t it?
Nonetheless, it comes with great appreciation, Ms. Parsons. Thank you.
Frankly, I agree with former ’60s pop-star Connie Stevens, who dated Elvis and may be remembered for the quirky hit, “Kooky, Lend Me Your Comb.”
In her later years, Connie advised older women to keep on a few pounds because it is more face-flattering.
We all have our excuses.
Anyway, I imagine Norma would have a big, loud laugh at the suggestion that I am she or something like that.
I’d like to think I’ve made some small contribution to the profession, as Norma did when as the Journal’s correspondent she was the sole female reporter in the state Capitol during legislative sessions, when she was hardly taken seriously to begin with.
Boy, did those ole boys learn otherwise later on!
One of my favorite, funny Norma Fields moments was a story I heard from my former boss, Dick Molpus.
He said that in 1979, when Gov. William Winter announced Dick for his first executive appointment as director of federal-state programs, Norma was at the news conference and offered him his first question.
“Son,” Norma said, I’m sure trying to keep a straight face, “does your mother know where you are?”
Molpus was not yet 30 and perhaps was one of the oldest members of Winter’s inner circle at that stage.
Norma always was good for an inside joke, especially a political one, but she could deal misery when she chose to do so. We all can, I suppose.
So, thanks for whoever suggested my dear son had such a colorful mother. I’m working on that.
Patsy R. Brumfield writes a Thursday column. Contact her at (662) 678-1596 or email@example.com.