Today I've spent most of the day under the influence of drugs as I seem to have developed a head cold in the last 24 hours. And, in between blowing my nose and excessive sneezing I've been doing a lot of pondering on my mother since tomorrow is celebrated as Mother's Day. As a disclaimer to this blog, I would just like to say that though I am in a semi drug-induced existence at this time, everything I write about my mom is true to the best of my current knowledge and belief.
There is something to be said about being born on the first wedding anniversary of your parents. You get to kinda grown up along with them and being the firstborn gives you a certain insight into your parents. I think more so on my mother since we are so much alike in personality. I feel very blessed to have had a wonderful relationship with my mother. We have done things together that have have afforded me the opportunity to have a wealth of memories for the rest of my life. There have been the road trips we've taken primarily in the entire southeast region of the U.S., but we've also made it all the way into Canada, flown to Pennsylvania to visit Nancy's family, Washington, D.C. to get Nancy's marriage license, and most recently her flying with Joe and me to visit with Corey, Nikki, Ally and to meet the newest member of the family, Derek.
It was Charles Dicken's who wrote..."It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..." That was one way to describe our trip, but I wouldn't want it any other way. It was a privilege and an honor to have Mom along with us knowing that this was most likely her last trip off to anywhere. I know that I'll look back on these pictures with a great sense of appreciation and love.
My mother has often said that she always felt that she lacked talent and ability to contribute anything beyond motherly duties. And, she has expressed on many occasions that she could have been a much better mother. She has felt an inadequacy when it came to imagination and creativity. Oh, how wrong she was and is about that and nothing could be further from the truth. Looking back on my childhood, my mother was always there for me - caring for me and my needs and even many of my wants. I remember I always had a nicely ironed dress to wear to school (back then you wore dresses to school everyday). I don't ever remember being ashamed of what I had to wear. I remember on the days school pictures were being made, that she took special care in making sure I looked just perfect. My hair was combed and fixed and my dress was just so. Because of my mother, I won prizes and awards for things she'd helped me complete. There was the dinosaur peep box which won me a ribbon at the Science Fair, there was the fire prevention essay which won me a cash reward and I was the absolute envy of my class one Valentine's Day when my shoebox was decorated with doilies and cards. One of my fondest toys was a doll she made from an old dried-out corncob when we lived in Virginia. Using scrap materials, she made me a doll with a stuffed head, round buttons for earrings, striped material for a skirt and drew me a smiling face. (The doll was later tossed into the trash a few months later when she was cleaning out for our move to Japan). Mom took painting lessons, she did needlepoint, she did crochet, she could do anything she set her mind to and do it well.
I'm quite certain that when it came to the gift-giving in the family, it was Mom who knew what we really wanted and somehow we got it. Let's see, for me there was the telescope so I could watch the moon; the pink Bakeolite radio that I used to listen to late night mystery theaters under my covers; my first record albums i.e., The Rolling Stones, Gary Lewis and The Playboys; but, my biggest prized possession was my genuine Barbie doll circa 1961 which I still have today as well as many of her clothes. She understood the urgent need for these desired gifts and they were fulfilled. I don't ever remember not getting something I wanted and I remember that we always had what we needed.
My mom was the disciplinarian of the family. She was the one who administered the punishment, but it was always justifiable in my case. I lived my life by my motto which was "have fun now, suffer the consequences later"! And, I did suffer the consequences later, especially when I had conned my sisters and brother into joining me. But, you know I don't remember her ever yelling or screaming at us, but only softness. I remember Mom giving me so many chances to confess to a lie I'd told. She'd say "I won't punish you if you tell me the truth", but I'd never confess and she would unwillingly have to punish me. I remember my Mom praying for me on many, many occasions most notably when I was shocked by lightning inside our home one time. I remember coming home from school and she would have milk and cookies and a willingness to listen to what happened at school that day. She never had to work outside the home and I never recall a messy or dirty home (except in my bedroom which was my responsibility). Meals were always prepared from scratch since there were no microwaves then and she was always a fantastic cook. I remember her comforting me when it came time to throw away the Christmas tree one year and it was breaking my heart. I remember how she let life teach me lessons she'd tried so hard to teach herself. Case in point, the day I was hit by a car driven by two little ladies. Knowing that Mom was going to be really upset, I gathered items which had fallen from my cigar box and hurried home. The ladies followed me home and I knew I was in serious trouble because I'd not looked both ways like she'd taught me to do. Instead of the spanking that I'd expected, she gathered me in her arms and consoled me and reminded me that that was why we looked both ways - a lesson I remembered after that.
I've always admired my mom. Especially when we moved to Japan. As a child of nine at the time, I remember how she came into her own during that time. My mother developed a sense of confidence I had never recognized before and so admire today since I became a mother. She was only 27 years old when my dad received orders from the Air Force to move overseas. Here was a young mother with four children ages 2-9 who had been born in a very rural section of south Georgia, had hardly been anywhere in her life and was now moving her entire life and family on the other side of the world. We moved off base in a little cul-de-sac next to a little town called Fussa. My parents were able to afford to hire a maid since wages were very minimal, who was also like a babysitter, and this gave Mom the opportunity to explore. She had a bicycle and no command of the Japanese language, but that didn't stop her. She would take off on that bicycle into the little town where no one hardly spoke English and go exploring. She managed to make it back it back home with some exciting story of her adventures, but I don't know how. She was never afraid to try anything whether it was food, trying something new, going somewhere, etc.
After five months in Japan, my dad was put in the hospital because of severe back problems and was there for almost a year. During that time, Mom managed everything. She took care of the home, the children, everything that Dad would have handled if he could have done so. I remember lean times, but I don't remember neglect or doing without. I remember her introducing me to my first real experience at organized religion when she took us to church for the first time. I especially remember her love and devotion for my dad when he was in the hospital. The same kind of love and devotion she has even to this day. This is a real love - a real commitment - the kind of love that serves as an example to me and to countless others.
My mom taught me to drive. My mom taught me the love of reading as I can remember her reading to me as far back as my mind can recall. My mom finally let me shave my legs when I was a senior in high school. My mom loves music - whether it's singing or listening. She introduced me to so many types of music growing up. She's world famous in our family for her rendition of "The Chocolate Ice Cream Song". My mom relied upon me so much while Dad was serving in Vietnam and I let her down so many times. But, she never let me down. (Will we ever forget picking up bottles along side the road to earn Dairy Queen money for a treat when going to visit Grandmother and Granddaddy McGhee?) Will I ever forget the night I told her I hated her and even with sadness and hurt in her eyes, she told me it didn't matter that she still loved me and always would? Will I ever forget knowing how much my mother loved me by forgiving me of things I'd done wrong and embarrassed her for? No, and for those things she made me a better person.
I especially cherish those various Christmas weeks when she and I would be out all night long in the 24-hour stores picking out just the right present for the right person and not coming home until the wee hours of the morning. I loved the all day matinees, the various restaurants and Wednesdays at the Golden Corral so she could have her steak, I loved the late, late nights getting ready for the weekend craft shows or flea markets, I loved her giving Corey his first bath and teaching me how to scrub his head so he would get "cradle crap". I treasure the handmade items she lovingly made for gifts - I've loved our talks about everything and nothing. I loved how she cradled me like a child after Les left me devastated and alone. I loved how she would lay Corey on her chest and how I smiled through my tears when she did the same thing for his own child. I loved her being able to be with Joe and I when we were sealed for time and all eternity. There are so many things I love about my mother. After almost 56 years, how can one compile it all into just a few short paragraphs? I can't, unfortunately.
What can you say about the woman who gave you life? Absolutely everything and at the same time, nothing? How can you put into words what she means to you now and forever and how can you ever imagine what it would be like not to have her around? How great will be my blessing when, and if, hopefully someday my own son loves me as much as I love my own mother.
So Mom, on this Mother's Day though you may not get a flower corsage, taken out to dinner, given a beautiful card or any tangible symbol of my love, I can only say this to you...I love you Mom and am so grateful that you have been my mother all these years. Thank you for loving me.
