Long ago, someone asked me about my family, and I told them, “My mother is an artist. My father is a genius.” They each could do so much, and the both of them together could do most everything that needed to be done. They built the house in which I grew up. It was a great house (still is, I’m sure, although I only get to see it next door when I visit my mother now). It was a great home, because somehow two adults and six kids lived there and managed. I remember some things about it so clearly, although I bet if I went inside now it would probably seem smaller.
I remember my parents from as long as I can remember anything, but there was a time that I actually became conscious of how old they were. For my dad, it was 42. Sure, i’d been around since he was 32 (he turned 33 in November of the year in which I was born), but I never knew him to be, say, 35 (my son’s age right now!), or 38. It was 42. And my mother was only a month and a half more than two years younger than him, so she would have been 40 at the time…although — funny thing — the first age I can recall for her was…42. But I’m gonna stick with 40 right now, because nice, even numbers work for me at my age (although I told her once I’ll always think of her as 42).
I’m sticking with 40 though mainly because of another nice, even number — 50. Fifty years ago today, my mother turned 40. The math is easy.
Now, I said my mother was an artist (still is). But she was so much more. First off, of course, she was a mother — one of the most demanding and important jobs in the world. With six kids! And every one of them is absolutely fantastic…and I don’t even think I’m being biased (or arrogant, because I figure if my 5 brothers and sisters turned out so incredible, then I must have turned out pretty good too). I’m just telling the truth here. And of course, I think the person that made us most so is our mother. Yeah, our father was a genius, and he had a huge part in it; but our mother gave us all a sense of warmth and love, all while juggling just about everything, and set such a great example for us in life, that we couldn’t help but be formed in a way that sees the world a bit differently (each in our own ways, but every one thoughtfully).
But what can anyone really say about their mother that isn’t already pretty obvious? Still, for me, it’s all that and more. To keep it simple, though, I think this picture sums it up best:
I rest my case. My mother is pretty cool if you ask me. Certainly one of the best people on the planet. And I love her a lot.
Happy 90th birthday, Ma.