I’ll see you tomorrow, right? For the “9th Annual Information Fair” at the Port Angeles Senior Center, between 10:00 and 2:00, right? Good!
But that’s not what I’m here to talk about today; no, today I want to point out that where there’s life, there’s hope – And here’s why.
This Sunday will the eighth day of May, 2011, which will make it “Mother’s Day;” if that’s news to you, I’m going to guess that you’ve either just completed your annual hibernation OR you are a young, single male.
Now, granted: I, too, find it difficult to envision young, single males zipping right by the sports section and the comics to get to this particular column, but on the off-chance that has actually occurred, allow me to point out that you are in VERY SERIOUS TROUBLE, and it would behoove you to figure out what you’re going to do about this potentially lethal mega-faux pas RIGHT NOW.
Most of us live in the “hump of the bell-shaped curve,” which refers to a graphic representation of most polls, research and studies of whomever doing or thinking whatever. It just means that most of us aren’t “outliers” – “Extremes,” if you will.
Most of us aren’t fabulously wealthy and most of us aren’t totally poverty stricken (although I readily agree that it can often feel that way). Most of us aren’t engaged in the “right wing conspiracy” and most of us aren’t contributing to, or steadfastly implementing, the “left wing agenda.” And most of us aren’t perfect people who routinely appear on the covers of magazines that are strategically situated just above the breath mints, nor do we scare crows at 1,000 yards; no, most of us are somewhere in-between: Basically, good, decent, reasonably sane people who are just trying to make our way without seriously hurting anyone else in the process.
And it’s for those of us who are perfectly imperfect, residing obliviously in the hump of the bell-shaped curve, that I’d like to share a few quick “pre-Mother’s Day” thoughts, remembering that we started with, “…where there’s life, there’s hope.”
Sure, I know all about the commercial hype and it’s “…all just a bogus promotion to boost retail sales…” and blah blah blah, but the fact is, here we are – And the fact is that mothers expect something to happen today. Now, Mom, tell the truth: You do. You’d like your “kids,” who could range anywhere from 5 years of age to 68 or whatever, to do something to recognize the fact that you changed your entire life to accommodate her, him or them.
Whether or not it was “planned,” you went through nine months of physical discomfort, to grossly understate the obvious, not to mention the emotional and financial toll that is routinely taken and routinely ignored, then who-knows-how-many-years of trying to keep her, him or them from (a) killing themselves (or somebody else); (b) fed; (c) clothed; (d) warm, and (e) becoming a reprehensible reprobate, the latter often being the most challenging.
I suspect you were not always successful, and I suspect you screwed some of it up. I’m absolutely certain that if you could replay the tape, you’d do some things differently – And since you (and most of us) see yourself as the primary “source” of said offspring, you feel responsible for the result; you were, I can guarantee, perfectly imperfect.
Those of us who were produced by mothers managed to sleep through the nine-month part; then, we just assumed the food/clothes/warmth/part, because we had no idea who else to hold accountable – Since you were THERE, it must be your job – Thus, most of us kid-types tend to focus most of our memories on your less-than-perfect attempts to make us be as close to “perfect” as possible, and here’s what we know: You failed.
You, Mom, dropped the biological ball and failed to make us rich, happy, healthy, sane people who would attract rich, happy, healthy sane mates with whom to produce rich, happy healthy and sane families. We manage to remember things that we thought you did “wrong,” which may or may not be the same things that you remember as “wrong,” but we’re pretty sure we know whose fault it was.
So are you.
But where there’s life, there’s hope – We’re here! We actually have an opportunity to achieve relative happiness – To perfect our imperfection! – To do whatever it is we need to do in order to say, “It was worth the ride.” And we’re pretty sure that we know that WE are solely and uniquely responsible for our successes and achievements.
Stop laughing, Mom.
You gave us life, which gave us hope so, in exchange, we’re going to give you…chocolate! (Doesn’t really work, does it?) How about a card that somebody else wrote and produced? Or roses that somebody else grew? Hey! Let’s go to brunch at a restaurant that someone else owns, where someone else cooks and someone else makes money doing it??
Yeah, OK, any or all of those beat-the-heck out of nothing, but here’s what we all know that only a very few of us will actually say: The real gift is the time spent – In-person, on the phone, going to get this-or-that and delivering or sending this-or-that – The time spent. The only thing you have less of than money – The time.
It will always be about the “time,” because that’s what Mom gave away – The time.
So, on a day that could be any day, less-than-perfect people from less-than-perfect families will get together (one way or the other) and, in a perfect world, exchange “time” for time, while we nurse our guilt, our delusions, our illusions and our “memories,” none of which make much real difference for most of us, because we still have tomorrow.
We have time. We have life.
And where there’s life, there’s hope.
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