One of my favorite songs, by one of my favorite (albeit perhaps guilty pleasure) groups is "Yes We Can" performed by the Pointer Sisters and written by quintessential New Orleanian, Allen Toussaint. In the song, when talking about all the things we can do if we try, he uses the wonderful phrasing, almost as an afterthought... but not quite. "And do respect the women of the world, remember you all had mothers."That's kind of the way we are in the world... And it's kind of the way I've been for too much of my life as an individual. Remembering our mothers... remembering MY mother... is often NOT at the forefront of my mind. I think that's why Mother's Day is such a big day for the flower, card, and dining establishment; it's the one day a year when we REMEMBER our moms and all the other days of the year that we've taken them for granted.
My mother is amazing. She always has been, and the older I get the more and more and more I see of her in me. So much of who I am and what I want comes from this woman whom I have basically taken for granted for nearly 55 years. She was born in Philadelphia, raised in Manhattan and on Long Island, and then later in Miami. As a teenager she was the first female "copy boy" at The Miami Herald (there was even a columnist at the paper who wrote about his amazement at this confounded new development). She started a radio show with my dad (Time for Betty & Tom), she was a model back in New York, and the host of a cooking show in Cincinnati (no doubt the origin of my own fanatical obsession with food and things foodie). After I was born and my family returned to South Florida, my mom worked the late show movie on local TV (where I got to perform as Santa Claus one year) and as a freelance camera person for a TV station on Florida's West Coast. One of my most vivid memories from childhood is of standing on the tarmac at Palm Beach Airport as Air Force One was arriving with President Kennedy and my mom was dashing toward the plane, Bolex in hand, shouting to my dad "What's the F-stop Tom!?"
Later, when we moved to Arizona, she learned how to paint and she spent hours working in oils on scenes that brought the desert to life on our walls. My favorite of these (from a time in my life that was definitely not my favorite, but then what teenager ever likes their life!?) is still hanging on the wall in my little apartment in Petaluma. I have lugged it around with me to every place I have lived as an adult and it is always one of the first things I put up to know that I am home.
Through all of my life, my mom has been my champion and supporter. Five years ago when Jennifer graduated from college the day before I ran the Dipsea for the first time, mom and dad came out from Florida to be there for both. I still get an enormous amount of joy from remembering the way mom looked at me after the race, a combination of astonishment and pride, mixed with just a little bit (well, maybe a lot) of concern for the health - both mental and physical - of her first born. Throughout my life, I have certainly not been what she might have dreamed for me to be. I remember one time during that hellashish high school period when I wrote her a song called "I'm Sorry." I still feel that way a lot of the time. I'm sorry mom for the ways I haven't been appreciative, the ways I haven't "lived up to my potential" and the ways I've gone astray. I'm also thankful for the things you gave me that have led me (and still lead me) to do right, to be loyal, to try hard, and to live fully.
Thank you for borning me, raising me, loving me, and still... over and over and over again... supporting me in so many ways.
Happy Mother's Day Mom. I Love You.
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And to the mother of my daughter...As a post script on this Mother's Day, I also want to salute the mom of my daughter. Jean and I have been through 34 years together; some of them wonderful and fun, and some of the hard as hell. Though only 8 of those years were as husband and wife, she has been a great friend and a steady support for all the rest of the time as well. She gave birth to and mothered a grand and glorious girl/woman of our own, and I am grateful and proud of them both. Happy Mother's Day Jean!
