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05.23.13Personal

Mom




W
e celebrated mom’s 80th birthday last Monday. Family and friends gathered to share old stories and memories of the good times past. It’s really hard for me to believe that she’s actually 80 years old and that I’m really not that far behind. You know, I grew up in a different time than kids today. We didn’t have political correctness or a real concern about building self esteem. The line between right and wrong was clearly defined and if you crossed that line, then you knew without a doubt what the consequences were. Oh you could play dumb but it very seldom worked. I’ll tell you this and I promise I’m not exaggerating, most of my summers from age 8 to age 12 I usually got a “whupping” at least twice a week and deserved every one. I probably deserved more but I was pretty sneaky. By the end of the summer if I happened to walk by mom and she reached up to scratch her nose I hit the floor with both hands wrapped around my head. I wouldn’t take anything or trade places with anyone for my childhood, it was the best it could possibly be. My mom was the one most responsible for that. She loved my sister, my brother and me as good as any mother could and I believe she did her absolute best as a mom. She’s always been a giver, I only hope I can learn that from her. As I looked across the room that night, I wondered how many people had sat at her table sharing a meal or a cup of coffee. Mom’s kitchen has always been open and has always been the heart of our home and still is today. I challenge anyone to visit her and walk away without eating something. It always seemed that anyone who was down and out or hurting in some way, always found their way to our house. Mom had an easy ear to talk to, I guess it was a strong sense of empathy from growing up in a difficult environment. Her eyes have seen it all, the light and the dark, the good and the bad. She never got a college degree but you can trust her judgement almost all the time. I love her and she will always be one of the two most inspirational people in my life. Thank you mom for being who you are and for always being there for us ... Happy Birthday, again!

A Son Remembers

It’s just a kitchen table, much the worse for years of wear,
With MEMORIES in each scratch and stain from all that happened there –
The paint that never would come off,
a scissor nick or two,
the dent where something heavy dropped,
a bump of dried-up glue…
the scorch left by a cookie sheet,
worn and faded where HANDS WERE HELD
and elbows propped and countless stories traded.
It doesn’t show the teardrops,
and it has no voice to tell
the SECRETS shared, the JOYS revealed,
but those are there as well.
Around the kitchen table,
Life was HAPPY and SECURE,
and my heart will feel that love as long as memories endure.


Hallmark








 

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