Mother Material

My mother loved tulips. She even loved the tulips I handed her in my grimy little fist. Then I got a swat on my butt for cutting those tulips from her front garden. Oops. I'm not talking child abuse. My mother, all five foot of her, was extremely fair in doling out punishment. Generally it was a lecture about trust or right and wrong. As you stood there hearing, "You've disappointed me," you prayed for a swat just to get it over with. My mother truly did not give me dark material to write a heartrending memoir. Yes, I'm grateful and I suppose that's why I'm compelled to write humor or stories that harken back to innocent days.

My mother loved to read and I thank her for reading aloud to me as a child. I thank her for the weekly runs to the library and for buying me every Nancy Drew book in the series. I thank her for buying Mad Magazine. I think she'd be my biggest fan now and would put up with navigating the internet to read my latest on-line poem or even this blog.

My mom's been gone 17 years now. That's hard to believe, and I don't need Mother's Day to think of her. So this is my own little card of celebration.

I'll salute my mother-in-law, too. Joyce Faries is alive and well and has a green thumb, can sew, and is an amazing cook. Twenty years ago she had to acknowledge that her son was marrying a Yankee, but it's all worked out great ( I repeat, 20 years!!!). I truly couldn't be luckier, and again I don't have "mother-in-law" stories to write.

What the heck - I've opened the can of corn here - Mother's Day allows schmaltz and candy and flowers. In memoriam - my Nana Crowther, Nana Shutters, and Ray's Grandmother Ivy.

Much love.

Joanne