Thoughts for a Mother's Day

 Circa mid-50's: Dad and Mom before I came along. Probably at Ocean Beach.

I haven’t celebrated a Mother’s Day with my mom since she took her step in 1985.  Over the ensuing years I have many times thought about who she was, the way she lived her last few years and the things she gave me that I carry today.

My folks were as different as night and day. I”d have to say my Dad was more of a “speak softly and carry a big stick” kind of guy. My Mom on the other hand was a 4'11" firecracker that you never knew if she was going to go off being silly or if she would just fall asleep with her crocheting in her lap. Though I've nurtured my own warped sense of humor, I’m sure I get my goofy, cornball sense of the ridiculous from her. She was a study in opposites. She would tell me dirty jokes as I got older but still wouldn't say the word pregnant.  Whether it was someone we knew or one of their critters the reference was always, “she’s PG” and it always made me laugh.

She was born the 9^th of 10 children in a small New England town. She often referred to the house where she grew up as "14 rooms and a path". Unlike my Dad, who left home at 14, my Mom was the one who stayed at home and took care of both her parents in their last days. I never got to meet either of them.

No doubt coming of age during the Great Depression had a profound influence on how she lived her life going forward. She was a great saver of all manner of things, especially small bits of paper.  She would cut up envelopes or trim any blank parts left on any piece paper she came across; basically any paper that had not been written on was fair game.  She kept them in a small inbox-like container near our kitchen phone.  It wasn't uncommon to find a note from her on the kitchen table cobbled together with these little scraps. I would come home to find a jigsaw puzzle without a solution spread out before me.  I almost needed a decoder ring to follow the narrative from beginning to end while deciphering her left-handed scrawl. This I inherited, the scrawl not the jigsaw notes.

She was a switch board operator for several companies, both large and small and also did clerical work along the way. My Mom and Dad met while she was working the main gate at General Dynamics in the 1950’s. She did some clerical work part-time before I hit school age then became a stay at home mom until I went to junior high. Her last job was as a receptionist at a nursing home and she was there until she got sick.

She hated this motorcycle though still asked me to take a picture.

In 1980 she developed breast cancer. I remember her doctor telling me after the surgery that the cancer had probably made its way into her bones. I didn't find out until after she passed that he didn't expect her to last a year. She hung on for over 5 years. She never lost her sense of humor or her love of good food and friends. She lived those last years with as much dignity and grace as humanly possible. She suffered in silence often and rarely complained about anything except the length of my hair or that I needed to stand close to my razor in the morning. She was pretty close mouthed about a lot of things. Dick, the nice fellow she kept company with the last few years she was with us, filled me in on much of what happened those last few years while I was living in another state.

Anyone who has experienced going through a deceased parent or relatives stuff knows how surreal it is. I kept turning around expecting her to be standing behind me in the door. Her sense of humor outlasted her. She loved to clip stuff from the newspaper whether it was comics,cartoons or Hints from Heloise. I found an envelope with part of her collection stuffed inside a box of filled with plastic fruit. Knowing her I'm sure she left them that way because she knew I would get a laugh. It worked; that find had us in stitches. What is the deal with plastic fruit anyway, I've never understood it. 

Believe it or not I did actually pay attention once in a while and was fortunate enough to gain some useful lessons from her; treat everyone with the respect they deserve but don't swallow bullshit unnecessarily. Keep your cards close to your chest though don't be afraid to love. Appreciate little things and remember that happiness is not about having what you want it’s about wanting what you have.

I have been blessed with a teacher and mentor who decided I would heretofore be known as her adopted son.  I've also been blessed with a mother-in-law that is a great lady even though she repeatedly kicks my tail at Words with Friends. I think she lets me win sometimes just so I’ll keep playing. Any man would be grateful to be as fortunate as I.

If my Mom was around today she’d no doubt be sneaking forbidden people food treats to my cats, loving my pretty little wife almost as much as I do and telling me I need to cut my hair.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the Mom’s out there for doing what you do. We do appreciate you. My hope is we all make sure we show you that instead of just tell you.