Mama’s star burns even brighter

Just when I thought that Mama’s star had peaked and was beginning to fall, Reader’s Digest called.

“Is your mother really like what you write or do you embellish it?” asked a Hollywood screenwriter.

I laughed. “No, she’s not just like that. I tone her down a lot because if I wrote the precise truth, no one would believe it.”

Green, the color of envy, slipped across his face. “You’re lucky. I have to make up my characters and none of them are ever as colorful as Mama.”

“If you don’t stop writing about me, I’m gonna pinch your head off,” Mama will pretend to complain. Then, if two weeks pass and she isn’t mentioned in my column, she will call and say, “You need to write some more about Mama because it’s not nearly as good or interesting without Mama in it.”

This, of course, is simply the way it is with Mama – you can’t win either way. Still, I’ve been trying to slip her gently into the background. She isn’t going easily. First of all, she doesn’t want to go. Second of all, readers refuse to let her go. For some reason, many find her captivating. She, apparently, is also a marketer’s dream.

As in the case with Reader’s Digest.

My New York editor called one day with unexpected but happy news. “Reader’s Digest has just paid a very nice advance for the rights to your novel,” she announced. “They’re going to reprint it in their Condensed Books series.”

Now, any way you look at that, it’s good news. It was especially sweet news to me because I grew up reading Reader’s Digest Condensed Books so I thought it was really neat that they wanted to do my book in the series.

Then the bombshell fell.

She cleared her throat before continuing. I am old enough and wise enough now to know that a throat is cleared just before something is said that is going to choke you. I had a boyfriend once who always cleared his throat just before he started lying. In other words, he was constantly clearing his throat.

I chewed my lower lip and waited.

“Someone over at Reader’s Digest got on your Web site and found a picture of you and your mama. They want permission to use it in all their promotional materials.”

I rolled my eyes and wondered if I was going to have to pay Mama. Then, I decided to take my chances against a lawsuit and answer on her behalf.

“That’ll be fine,” I replied. Actually, I think my chances for a lawsuit would have been higher if I had denied them right. Mama has grown fond of her fame. When we bickered over a column that she thought was too harsh, I declared emphatically that she was out of my column for good.

She didn’t blink. She knew she had the upper hand and replied calmly, “If you do, you’ll lose readers.”

Once while eating out, a woman approached me in the restaurant and talked for several minutes of how much she enjoyed my column. Finally, Mama reached over and tugged at her sleeve.

“Hey,” she said, grinning broadly. “I’m Mama.”

The woman immediately dropped me like a hot potato and turned her attention to the real star.

“You’d better be careful,” she warned with a wink when she found out that Reader’s Digest was using her in their advertising. “I might get so popular that I shoot you out of the saddle.”

That’s a star for you. As soon as they make it big, they forget the little people who made ‘em.

In this case, the little people would be me.