BeBe Jo's Pom Pom

You’re looking at a picture of a horrid, horrid man. And yet – my mother is crazy about him. She affectionately calls him “Pom Pom.”

Pom Pom’s picture was once tacked up to a school bulletin board with the caption “Joann’s Dream Man.”  That about sums it up. She has a t-shirt with Pom Pom’s image on it. She ordered mailing labels that use his picture, too. She even calls herself by the nickname he gave her:  BeBe Jo! BeBe Jo!

She’s obsessed.

Over the years, she has tried to impose her fascination with Pom Pom onto me.  She has hidden his picture inside my shoe, and even went so far as to enlarge his picture to poster-size for one of my birthday celebrations.   The worst  assault was when she pinned his picture to the back of my jacket as I went on a date, as if it were a campaign button that she thought might influence me.

I once found Pom Pom’s picture underneath a slice of personal pan pizza while I was waitressing at Pizza Hut. Another time, his picture was tucked away in a book I was reading, as though he were a bookmark that I would peruse instead of words.

I’ve been finding Pom Pom’s picture hidden away in unexpected places for more than 20 years now. The only recourse I have is to return it to her. I know how lost she feels when she doesn’t know where Pom Pom is.

So I’ve graciously attached it to the sun visor in her car, where she squealed in surprise without wrecking. I’ve placed his picture lovingly into the cup of her bra, so that he could be closer to her heart.  I’ve taped the picture to her toilet seat (which is where I think he actually belongs). I’ve even included Pom Pom’s picture in her holiday decorations, as an ornament on her tree.

But every time she finds his picture, she is determined to give it back to me. I keep telling her I don’t want it. I’m not crazy about Pom Pom like she is.

Most recently I think she stuffed his picture in my suitcase while we were on a cruise, though I don’t have clear evidence of it. Or maybe she couldn’t bear to part with it after all. She’s crazy about the guy.

All I can do is sigh; it’s her heart. I can’t change how she feels about her Pom Pom. But I can give his picture back here, where she’s sure to find it.