Last year on Mother’s Day I did an “Ode to My Beautiful Mother” blog and told a story about one of the many lessons I learned from her. I had a topic for this week’s blog all ready to go about the “red dress” and what to wear at GCLS, and then I realized that it was Mother’s Day on Sunday, so there was a last minute scramble to write something different to continue honoring my mother and celebrating the impact she had, and dare I say still has, on my life today.
Since I readily admit that I am old and forgetful, I had to re-read last year’s blog so I wouldn’t become my father’s daughter and continue to tell the same old story year after year. Fortunately, I have a lot more stories about my mother and I want to share one of my favorites with you.
Some of you who are close to my age may remember an old seventies television series called, Wonder Woman, with Linda Carter in the starring role. My dad was a wonderful father, but as a husband…not so much. He could be a total pig sometimes and my mother had a way of handling him that was well…original and inspiring.
One night the whole family gathered around our 25 inch big screen TV (stop laughing because in those days a large 25 inch console TV was the equivalent of a 70 inch big screen) watching Wonder Woman. My father was going on and on about what a “fox” (come on people it was the 70’s) she was and how much of a knock out figure Linda Carter had. Drool was hanging from my father’s tactless mouth.
My mother disappeared for about ten minutes as my sisters and I were rolling our eyes so far back into our head we were blinking from the backside. My mother burst into the family room sporting gold bracelets, a wide belt cinching her waist to showcase her still gorgeous figure, and a wide headband, interrupting his incessant comments about the television version of Wonder Woman. She’d transformed into the living, breathing, real life Wonder Woman and my father got the not so subtle hint: “Shut the f*%$ up about a television mirage because the real version is standing before you in all her glory.”
Mom had turned her irritation into something light hearted and fun while getting her point across. I never forgot that moment because my mom was never the demonstrative type. She doled out love and hugs freely, but she always let my father have center stage while she faded into the background. On rare occasions, when we least expected it, she would surprise us all with her sense of humor that always had a touch of grace.
I loved my mother’s playful side and she taught me that I should never take myself too seriously. To this day, I try to find the humor and grace in almost everything. There are, of course, exceptions regarding topics we should never find humor in. Maybe that’s not the lesson that she intended, but it is the one that stuck. Next year I plan to tell the story of dad’s “f*%$ing roses”.
It’s been nearly five years since my mother passed away and I still miss her. I miss her quiet love and incredible grace. I did follow through with a dedication in my book, Asset Management, as mentioned in last year’s blog. One of my greatest regrets is that I didn’t start writing until after she passed away. She never got to read one of my published books. If there is a heaven, I do hope she’s proud that one of my books, Locked Inside, made it in the Goldie short list in my first year as a published author. As a former special education teacher, I believe she would have appreciated an inspiring story about a person with a debilitating illness who overcomes the challenges presented to them.
Of all the books I’ve written, Locked Inside seems to have had the most impact and so I’m going to slightly alter a phrase from two of my favorite authors Saxon Bennett and Layce Gardiner. Instead of “Making Lesbians Happy – One Book At a Time” how about “Educating Lesbians – One Book At a Time.”
Want to see what my books are all about…the links are below.