My Mom taught me how to ride a bike in the Hutzler’s parking lot at Westview Mall in Catonsville, Md., on a Sunday afternoon. We had the whole place to ourselves because of the old blue laws. We missed the first half of a Baltimore Colts game while we were out there. I think they played the Buffalo Bills or New England Patriots that day.

When I worked at Harborplace in Baltimore during high school and college, I made friends with some people who worked at The Fudgery. I brought home a big block of fudge one night and my Mom ate it in one sitting. My Mom went to 7-Eleven and the grocery store on the morning I turned 16 before I woke up to continue the family tradition of 16 presents on that day. We had returned from Ocean City late the night before and she almost forgot. My father, who died in 1996, told me not to complain about any of the gifts because my Mom felt guilty for almost forgetting. I loved every present I got that year, especially the new razor.

My Mom almost caught me sneaking a peek at the Strat-o-Matic hockey cards I was getting for Christmas one year. They were hidden under the bed in my parents’ bedroom. She had to have known because I didn’t get chance to straighten things inside the box. She never said word.

My Mom wouldn’t let me go with my brother to see The Who on their first farewell tour because I had a geometry test the next day.

During my senior year of college, I wrote a column for the school paper called “One Guy’s Opinion.” Most of my columns focused on the college’s decision to discontinue the wrestling team after I graduated. My Mom wrote a letter to the editor about all the things wrestling taught me, but she would only let the paper publish it if they used the headline “One Old Lady’s Opinion.”

I never would have watched “Doogie Howser, M.D.” if my Mom hadn’t told me she liked the show.

For my 21st birthday, my Mom and Dad gave me cab fare home.

After my final wrestling tournament in college, my Mom and Dad had my entire team over to our house for a huge feast.

When I was a kid, my Mom used to have her bridge club over once every few months. She would always make a pitcher of whiskey sours in the same pitcher she usually used for lemonade. I hated pouring myself a glass before I realized it wasn’t for me.

My Mom yelled at me across the gym when I threw my headgear after a frustrating loss in wrestling during my freshman year in high school. I don’t think I ever threw my headgear again.

One summer when I came home from college, my Mom let me blow right through a new stop sign near our neighborhood just to prove how much they didn’t need a three-way stop at that intersection.

My Mom died last Saturday in her sleep. She left eight children, all married, and 22 grandchildren, three of whom have married. Six days before she died, she walked down the aisle on the arm of one of her grandsons to watch her oldest grandchild get married. She was 77.