The one true statement that can be made about any human being is that HE, SHE, IT, THEY, YOU have/had a mother. And quite of few of us are married to one. Today I’m not writing about my kid’s mother, I am going to write about our biological mothers–wait a minute, I guess the person that you consider to be your mother doesn’t necessarily the same person that gave birth to you–so I’m going to write about the person that you call Mother.
Now, according to Hallmark card company and frequently reinforced by my mom, Elizabeth, AKA Betsie, MOTHERS are good-natured, MOTHERS are selfless, MOTHERS are nurturing, and MOTHERS are kind, sweet, protective and well–saints.
But mothers are also human beings. At least mine was. She was strong when strength was called for and caring when kindness was needed. But she was also imperious, testy and judgemental.
In modern vernacular, she was old school. She grew up in a rural area. Her mother–my Grandma–didn’t speak English. When they had chicken for dinner the chicken came from the backyard, not a grocery store. My mother could sew and she knew how to can fruit. That’s old school.
She had rules and they were inviolate. My dad was terrified of her. We all were. She had a withering stare and she didn’t mind threatening us with a wooden ruler that sat on top of the refrigerator.
She was feminine. She was fussy about her clothes–she liked loud colors, like purple–and her hair was never out of place. She had a weekly hair appointment that she never missed, not even for the funeral–of her sister.
She died when I was young, in the early 90s.
I loved her. Three reasons:
1) She was as tough as nails. She got hit by a car when she was in her early 50s. She flew about 20 feet in the air and broke nearly every bone in her body. She never complained about the pain or the years of physical therapy nor rued the bad luck that put her in front of that car.
2) My mother believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. I didn’t want to go to college. She wanted me to go to college. We fought for a solid year. She enrolled me in a college, drove me up to the college and dragged me into a dorm room. I screamed and moaned and cursed at her, but I stayed…and it turned out that college was the good thing–actually the best thing–for me.
3) My mother was tolerant. I came home stinking drunk one night when I was visiting from college and a passed out on the floor in front of her–after barfing on her nightgown.
I hated her. Three reasons:
1) She was never wrong.
2) She used to brag to anyone who would listen that she only gained 11 pounds while she was pregnant with me. I don’t know why exactly, but that really bothered me.
3) She was vindictive. Piss her off and you were cut off. And she wasn’t difficult to piss off.
TASK:
Buy a Mother’s Day card or make your own. Then, inside write down the three things you loved about your mother and the three things you hated.
Be brutally honest. Then put the card in your notebook.
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It’s never too early to start talking about Father’s Day on The Good Men Project. We’re looking for sponsors and contributors for our #ModernDayDad campaign. https://t.co/WJvKqq2kTe pic.twitter.com/j66LNCY0VG
— The Good Men Project (@GoodMenProject) March 11, 2019
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We celebrate Gay Pride all year long. But this year, we’re doing some special programing for a large-scale campaign #LoveEqually. We’re looking for both sponsors and contributors. Check it out! https://t.co/tkraXFPxLL pic.twitter.com/X2FlBEZb8Y
— The Good Men Project (@GoodMenProject) March 11, 2019
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