Memory of my mom part I: The Bomb

(I remembered this the other day. It happened many years back, when we were still living at our old house in Edgebrook Towers. Classic mom tale).
My mother received a cake-sized unmarked parcel wrapped in generic brown paper in the mail. So of course she then was convinced it was a bomb. Oh yeah, why target an up-n-coming young and brash politician, when instead you can terrorize a 68 year-old Korean woman who still pronounces naked as a monosyllabic word? She rendered her suspicions to me on yet another occasion where she had entrapped me into endless conversation/aka. life lessons in our kitchen. When I asked her what she did with the package, she lightly pattered off one of her “me-I’m so silly, but always still a genteel lady” laughs, while informing me that when she finally was convinced it was indeed a bomb, she calmly walked out into her backyard and threw it out into the great beyond with a rigor of a pro-baseball pitch. She said she got nervous and felt that at the very least, it wouldn’t be staring at her from the dining room table.