Happy Mother's Day to Moms of a Lesser Model

Mother, my mother, this drizzly May morning set aside to honor women, whose uterus has produced, calls me to ponder you.

The duty call made at eight on Saturday, not too late, just in time to say,

 “Happy mother’s day; enjoy your day. You sound tired; I’ll let you go.”

You must have done something right; after all, I still call.

Over the years and beyond the tears we know each other very little and love even less. One of the few stories you ever told me of your life was the one during the Great Depression about getting relief shoes, the girls at school teasing you, and how you would polish those shoes. You hated what you had because it wasn’t enough.

Your mother, my nana, a young widow, dragged her gimpy leg to work as a Walgreen’s waitress in Chicago’s Loop to support her five children. That had to be depressing.

Nana told me her childhood stories of cold Michigan winters, hanging noodles indoors on a clothes line attached at one end to a big stone fireplace in the center of the house, the dishes she learned to cook at her mother’s side.  Nana was the most fervent Catholic I have ever known; she gave definition to the word innocent. 

As the daughter of a deceased Chicago Detective Captain, my mother must have had many eyes on her behavior; until she went to San Francisco to meet the marine she married in WWII.

In all of my years I’ve never met another policeman’s wife as naïve as my nana, but during an emergency, like the time I cut my thumb on a butcher knife while drying dishes, she did what had to be done without histrionics, simply matter of fact. A family crisis with yelling and screaming she endured by sitting small and sweet with a dazed expression. Nana never talked about pain or suffering.

Mother never shared more than a detail here or there. She seemed to fear her older brother, Henry, but handsome younger brother, Bobby had her heart.

The Great Depression and World War II must own many screwed up lives; certainly, yours, my mother, is one. The Great Recession has gratuitously given me plenty to be pissed about, so mother I have more empathy than I ever cared to have.  

Because of you I’ve endured great physical and emotional pain, but I absorbed it; all of the family’s rage is dissolved. I let it go.

When you search your body for the pain of a daughter’s anger, mine won’t be there. I’ve struggled to understand and forgive you for most of my adult life. To say the least, you weren’t the mom they write sonnets for, but given your circumstances I believe; well, we do what we do.

To my Grandma, my dad’s mom, Happy Mother’s Day! You are the best!!

To Nana, I loved your stories; thanks for sharing about our family. You are so special.

Aunt Margaret, I know it comes as a shot we’re not as great as we think we are, but please know that you inspired me to greatness. You’ll always be great in my life.

Mom, you had a hard life; mine turned out so much better.

Thanks, I mean that.

God loves us all!! Hip-hip-hooray, have a good day!