Missing Mom

Dear John Walsh-

Its official: my mom is missing.  She was last seen boarding an airplane in San Antonio on June 2, 2012.  It was a short trip to Atlanta—only two hours long.  At some point during the flight, my mom excused herself to use the teensy-tiny airplane bathroom.  Moments later, a highly-skilled mom-impersonator came out of the bathroom wearing my mom’s clothes and took my mom’s seat.  My mom simply vanished.

After landing in Atlanta, the mom-impersonator stepped off the plane.  The mom-impersonator—we call her M.I. for short—looked and sounded like my mom.  She knew our names and seemed happy to see us.  None of us suspected that the woman we were looking at was not our mom. 

The M.I. is a professional—she imitated our mom perfectly.  In the beginning, we noticed only small discrepancies.  Where Mom wouldn’t have been caught dead in a two-piece bathing suit, the M.I. had half a dozen of them.  Where Mom never wanted to be in pictures, the M.I. was single-minded in her effort to capture hundreds of pictures or herself.  Where Mom sunburned easily, the M.I. had a twice-weekly membership at a nearby tanning salon.  Those first few weeks, the changes were noticeable, but not alarming.   

Over time, the differences became more dramatic.  The M.I. suddenly wore liquid eyeliner, refused phone calls from family because she was updating her facebook status, and donned artificial fingernails and synthetic hair pieces.  She lost about a hundred pounds.  Most disturbingly, she took to dressing in princess costumes.  Her attention-seeking behavior was unmatched even by even the angriest of fifteen-year-old girls.   

The tone of the family script also changed.  When visiting home before June of 2012, conversations with Mom went like this:

Me:     Hey Mom.

Mom:  The dead has risen!  I'm so glad you're up! 

Me:     Me too.  What's for breakfast?

Mom:  Cinnamon rolls are in the oven.  Do you want your eggs scrambled or over easy? 

Me:      Over easy please, and then I'm going to move back home. 

Since the M.I. took over, the same conversation goes like this:

Me:    Good morning Mom.

MI:     I curse your father's name every morning at this time.

Me:    I see.  Hey, do you want to go grab breakfast together?  I'm starving.

MI:     I drank a protein shake for breakfast.  I won't be hungry all day.  In fact, I've lost so much weight that my stomach has eaten itself and I no longer feel hungry.  Ever. 

Me:    That sounds like you have an eating disorder.

MI:     I'm very happy.  I've never been happier.

Despite her training, the M.I. is clearly not a convincing substitute for our mom.  Worse, the M.I. is actively revising the positive memories I had of my mom.  Two months ago, for example, the M.I. indicated that her children (including me) had never brought her any joy.  When asked what did bring her happiness, she confessed, “Well, I just got an iTunes account and I’m discovering that I really enjoy music.”

Only an M.I. could make such a ghastly statement.  I know the M.I. is doing her best to be our mom.  I try to be appreciative.  (I even sent the M.I. an iTunes gift card for Mother’s Day.) But when someone who looks like your mom and sounds like your mom, tells you that iTunes makes her happier than you do, it’s hard not to get upset.  It’s even harder to remember that it isn’t really your mom talking. 

I’m tired of all of it.  The M.I. is not my mom.  My mom did enjoy her family. I have thirty years’ worth of birthday cards and letters and pictures to prove that we gave her some measure of joy.  The M.I. is not working out.  She’s not happy.  We’re not happy.  We just need our mom back.  

If my mom had run away on June 2, 2012, I don’t think anybody would have blamed her.  It had been a hard year for her.  Perhaps more than anyone, she was entirely consumed by trying to compensate for the glaring absence of another missing family member. So, maybe Mom needed a break?  That’s fair, but she’s been gone nearly a year now, and it’s time to find her.

Since Mother’s Day is around the corner, I thought this could make a timely sort of news story you might be interested in.  My mom isn't America's most wanted.  But she's my most wanted.  And if that's ever enough for you or your show, please call me.  We have to find our mom and bring her home.

Sincerely,

SEE