Mother's Day. . . again

Tomorrow is Father's Day. So Happy Father's Day to all the Dads out there. However, I'm going to write about Mother's Day. . . again. Why, you ask? Because tonight as I vacuumed out my car, I was still vacuuming out dried beans. Still. 

They were left from my preschooler who brought home a vase of paper flowers for me for Mother's Day with things like, "This is good for doing the dishes" and "This is for hugs & kisses" written on them. Cute. And I'm sure her teachers meant well. It's just that I didn't realize that the popsicle stick stems were stuck in a cup full of dried beans. My preschooler set it on the seat and we went merrily on our way. We even ran several errands. It wasn't until we were almost home that I took a corner a bit fast and the beans went flying everywhere. Everywhere. When I saw them fly across our minivan I said to myself, "And that, is a Happy Mother's Day to me." Beans all over the car, that I'm still vacuuming out a month later. What fun.

Oh well. Happy Mothers Day still and Happy Father's Day, too. May you get grills and tools and ties, instead of messy minivans. 

Empathy

Yesterday was the birthday of writer Nikki Giovanni who said:

"I resent people who say writers write from experience. Writers don't write from experience, though many are hesitant to admit that they don't. I want to be clear about this. If you wrote from experience, you'd get maybe one book, maybe three poems. Writers write from empathy."

Now, mull that over. 

Cake & Dreams

In college I read the poem "Questions of Travel" by Elizabeth Bishop. There is a line in it that has haunted me ever since I read it:

"Oh, must we dream our dreams and have them too?"

I'm still trying to figure out what, for me, is the answer to that question. Is it like having your cake and eating it too?

Today I got a phone call from a high school friend. We haven't talked in a while. (It's amazing how much more interesting your life sounds when you're summing up two years worth of living.) She said the one thing she admires about me is that whenever she calls to catch up, I'm always pursuing my dreams. Hmmm. Am I? 

I hope so. 

Who I am.

I loved this quote so much I put it on a bookmark.

"I'd rather have roses on my table than diamonds on my neck."  ~Emma Goldman

I'd change the word "roses" to simply "flowers," because I love more than just roses: tulips, daisies, lilies of the valley, lavender, well, I love all kinds of flowers. Then I was thinking this weird thing. I think if you knew just two things: a) that I love that quote and b) that I put it on a bookmark, well then you'd probably know almost all there is to know about who I am. 

Tips

If I were rich I'd leave bigger tips.

Many years ago my husband and I went to dinner with Doug. Doug was married to my husband's cousin, Jill, before she died from a brain tumor. In his mid-twenties, Doug was adjusting to life as a young widower with a new baby. He'd been working for a while at his first job since graduating from college. For the first time in a long time, Doug seemed good. 

We went to Ruby River in downtown Salt Lake City and we arrived just minutes before closing time. Our waitress was very annoyed, especially after we ordered only an appetizer to share and dessert. Our bill was not large. When the bill came, Doug paid (for us, too, I think) and then left the waitress an extremely generous tip.  Her tip was over 5x what we'd paid for dinner. We left. We were still in the parking lot when she ran out to tell us there'd been a mistake with the tip.

"There was no mistake," Doug said. Then he smiled, "have a good evening." 

She was shocked, but she did mumble a genuine "Wow, thanks."

In the car, Doug smiled, "I've always wanted to do that," he said. 

We then drove to the hospital where Doug's good friend from high school was dying of pancreatic cancer. He and his wife asked Doug for advice on losing one's spouse while their two toddler boys climbed on the bed rails and pulled on IV lines. 

Sitting there, amid the heartbreak it was nice to know that the waitress, at least, had had a good night. 

Shout Out

I'm giving a big shout-out to my sister-in-law, Kaylee, who won the Idaho 4A girl's state title in the 3200 meters. (That's the two-mile, for those of us like me, who can't remember). We're so excited for her. She's worked very hard. We're so proud of her, win or lose, but I'm sure she's just ecstatic to have won. Way to go Kaylee!! 

(After you follow the link you have to scroll down to Session 3, #3 Girls 3200 Meter Run 4A to see her name and time in print, but there it is!)

Mothers

Lynne says in her comments that I haven't been writing enough. Lynne is a dear, dear friend, who is also sometimes mother-like to me. She knows I need both a friend and a mother. Sometimes she is one and sometimes the other. She knows just what to be in the right moment. After my Mom died, there were several people who volunteered to sort of "be there" for me when I felt I needed my Mom. Most were women in my ward at church, or friends of my Mom. All meant well, and I love seeing them, but none are continually in my life enough to be that person for me. Very likely, there is no replacement for one's Mom. But I have cherished friends who are there for me. Lynne is one. My mother-in-law is wonderful. I have two great friends in my neighborhood: Lauren and Janet. And, of course, my sister, Jenny (Too bad, we live far away from each other). One thing about all these women: they all serve those around them in remarkable ways.

My own mother hated Mother's Day. She said it was a day that reminded her of all her inadequacies. She had few. My mother-in-law claims my Mom was a saint. She probably was. But my mother-in-law fails to see her own wonderfulness. I watch her serve her family, her neighbors, friends, and strangers. The same is true of my sister Jenny and my friends Lynne, Amy, Janet, and Lauren. They are all kind, and generous, and true (which according to Winston Churchill is all you need). I learn a lot from each of them, just as I learned a lot from my own mother. So Happy Mother's Day. All I ask is that you follow the link below and read this poem which I love, love, love. I can't copy it here because I don't have permission. But go read it and think about it and have a Happy Mother's Day.

The poem is by Julia Kasdorf and is called "What I Learned from My Mother."

And now Lynne can be happy that I at least wrote something. :)