Mama likes the roses


Over the years in the newspaper business — 35 and counting for those counting — much has been written in this space concerning the second Sunday in May, more commonly known as Mother’s Day. 

There have been comments on hair — particularly my moms that was huge when my two brothers and I were small, and would be wrapped up similar to a hornet’s nest with toilet paper and bobby pins at bedtime. Yikes, just thinking about it brings back nightmares! My wife’s “do” has also made the news, especially one year when it was an extra light color and a shifty car salesman called her Mrs. Bleach during his spill, and kept right on talking.

We’ve also discussed orchids as corsages for moms going to Sunday morning church, and the more elaborate “backyard” variety of nosegay for moms lounging by the pool on Sunday afternoon. Back in the old days, the A&P Grocery Store, where I  practically grew up since both parents worked there, sold the church-going variety, in little white boxes with cellophane windows, that moms like Rachel, who I’m fortunate to claim as mine, proudly pinned to their bosoms. 

In the 26 years since she gave birth to our daughter, moms like Danny, who I’m fortunate to claim as my wife, have enjoyed the backyard variety that in most years have to be tied on to the top of her shoulder, since they tend to be a bit more elaborate, elongated, enlarged... than the those from the A&P!

The fact of the matter is that this week I’m hoping the very large, red, cluster rose in the side yard holds on ‘till Sunday so that it might become the center piece of this year’s floral delight. Some rather showy wisteria will likely serve as the base and there is a China Berry Tree in full purple bloom across the street sitting on ready to be used as filler.

I’m certain that the talk of allergies and itchy eyes I’ve been hearing at the breakfast table this past week is simply an attempt to use reverse psychology on me, and as of this writing it is working very well.

We’ve talked of scrapes and bruises and how mom’s special touch, topped with a kiss can pretty much heal all. And, of course, that sometimes the healing process takes a bit longer on some injuries than it does others. I’ve got plenty of scars to prove that fact, and seem to continue to add to those on a regular basis so I’m hoping that process is still working!

We’ve talked of other folk’s moms, and grandmoms, and moms that have gone on to heaven. We’ve talked of moms-in-laws, of which I had the best one, and we’ve talked occasionally of moms who didn’t do such a great job. All in all, I would say, our talk of moms has been centered mostly around the positive and what a great job they have done rearing their kids.

So once again the second Sunday in May is upon us and it is our duty as children, no matter our age, to celebrate the women who brought us into this world. You may be sitting beside yours on the pew at church, or you may be sitting across from her at the dinner table Sunday evening. You may be visiting in the hospital, or the nursing home, or even the cemetery, or you may only be able to visit by phone. 

Whatever the case may be, understand that a text message, an e-mail,  a card in the real mail, or even a silly post on social media, may seem, at the time, to be enough, but nothing beats a visit in person, or her hearing our voice when she answers our call. Remember that a moment of our time and the words I love you are the only gifts that a mom really needs.

That said, I love you mom. You too hun. And Danny, you better go ahead and break out the Visine ‘cause them Mother’s Day roses are still in bloom  and I know that Mama likes the roses!


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