I’m not sure my mother has ever been interested in popular culture. I think she was a fan of Perry Como in the 1950s and 60s, but that’s about it for the extent of her fandom. She and I share few – maybe no? – popular culture references. I’m certain she doesn’t know her Paul from her John, George or Ringo; she’s more a Matthew, Mark, Luke and John kind of gal.

The last movie I remember her going to see, one of the handful of movies she went to see in a theatre in a my lifetime, was Chicago. She went with a church social group, and it was an interesting choice for them to have made. My mother was by far the oldest attendee. She had fun, as she always does, but said after that, “she now knew what Sodom and Gomorrah looked like.” Indeed.

You can imagine my surprise when I went to check on my mother after supper tonight. She was watching TV and I asked what was on. She replied, “I’m just catching up on all the Taylor Swift news.” I was beyond amused. Tay Tay hits Toronto tonight and my 102-year-old mother is here for it.