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Community Corner

Something From Your Heart

Mother's Day is this Sunday. Don't forget the person who closely represents a mother for you.

May 8th is Mother’s Day.

When I was a kid, we told our mom to sleep late on Mother’s Day while four of us attempted to prepare her breakfast in bed. I’m certain we made a mess in the kitchen spilling pancake batter, scrambling eggs and squeezing oranges for juice. The aftermath of our loving endeavors made extra work for her, but she never complained. She ate everything we cooked no matter how it tasted or what it looked like (even the fragmented shells in the eggs).

Our cards were crayon scribbled notes with hearts and drawings and the words “I love you” on them. We made gifts. Gimp bracelets, potholders and handprints. It didn’t matter what they were, she always told us they were the best gifts ever.

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Looking back, I remember times as a teenager when I was mad at my mother. The only cards for sale had saccharine, floral verses and sappy sentiments. I wanted a card that said "I love you, but you’re still the meanest, strictest mother in the world." Or one that said "Today I don’t really like you – I’ll love you next week when I’m not mad anymore." But no one made cards like that. Now I’d give anything to be able to send her a card. I distinctly remember the moment I stood in front of the card rack realizing I’d never again be able to buy a Mother’s Day card for her.

When I had kids of my own, I saw the breakfast in bed ritual from the other side. I loved every morsel of those early morning labors of love–eggshells, burnt toast and all. They raided our yard and the neighbors’ for flowers to put on the tray. (They could have picked weeds; I wouldn’t have cared.) I still have some of the notes and drawings they penned. There were coupons for hugs and kisses, weeding (my daughter gave that one–the one chore she hated the most), walking the dog without being asked, setting the table and picnics in the park. I redeemed every one with a joyful heart, especially the hugs and kisses. There were store-bought presents too, but I don’t remember them as well.

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Now I have grandchildren, and I’m watching them play out the ritual of Mother’s Day for their mother, my daughter. They aren’t quite old enough to prepare food by themselves yet, but their dad helps. They painstakingly make drawings and cards and create projects out of beads and yarn and recycled objects. My daughter loves it all and tells them so. Lucky me, they make them for me sometimes too. 

It’s amazing how far from the original concept the holiday has evolved. Mother’s Day began in 1908, the creation of Anna Jarvis of Grafton, West Virginia, to celebrate her mother’s life. It wasn’t until 1914 that President Woodrow Wilson issued a proclamation declaring it an official national holiday–a day for American citizens to show the flag in honor of those mothers whose sons had died in war. It became so commercialized over the years that Jarvis spent the latter part of her life and all of her inheritance fighting against what she saw as an abuse of the celebration.

Today Mother's Day, dubbed a Hallmark Holiday, is one of the most commercially successful retail days of the year making it a marketer’s dream. It is the biggest holiday for long-distance calls and dining out in restaurants. This year revenue from sales of flowers is expected to be approximately $2.6 billion, from pampering gifts like spa treatments nearly $1.5 billion with an additional $68 million from greeting cards. Suggestions for gifts seem to get more expensive and elaborate with every year.

But it isn't about a gift. It's about letting someone know you care. Do something from your heart this Mother's Day. No one could have ever loved you more (or put up with you for that matter) the way your mother has all these years. Tell her you appreciate her. Scribble her a note (no matter how old you are). Whatever you do–whether you text, email, e-card or call–don’t forget your mother or the person in your life that closely represents a mother for you.

For me, I'm hoping for brunch at my daughter’s house followed by an afternoon at the park with my grandchildren–the two oldest riding their bikes, the youngest in his stroller. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do to celebrate the day. I’m also hoping I might get one of those scribbled “I love you” notes, and of course, hugs and kisses.

Happy Mother’s Day!

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