Over the years, I, and many other writers, have written columns thanking our mothers for being our beloved mothers. The overall tone of these columns tends to favour the sappy and romantic notions we see in greeting cards, and in Hallmark movies. And that’s great! Mom’s put up with a lot dealing with their kids and being a mom, and they deserve at least one day a year in which their hard work is acknowledged.
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There’s a link to my Annual Mother’s Day Tribute to my Mother at the bottom of this column, but I decided to do something different this year.
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It’s Mother’s Day! All around us, people are handing over mushy cards and hopefully some not too badly dented flowers to their mother or mother surrogate, loading up the kids and other significants into the car, eager to stand in a 90 minute wait line for brunch, or planning a visit to dear old mater at the familial manor or retirement home. Others are spending a day in maudlin pining for their dearly departed.
Ah ..Mother’s Day.
I may be a couple of months early, but it came to me that one of my all-time favourite recordings celebrated a birthday just short of 2 weeks ago. And in the midst of this sonic revelry I was reminded that during the first Friday of most every month throughout 1967 and into ‘68, I was formally excused from school so that my mother could take me all the way to Toronto for special orthodontic appointments.
My annual Mother’s Day Tribute to my Mom. I wish you all could have met her….
As most adopted children can tell you, one of the first things you remember being told is how you were chosen to be part of your adopted family, not a random act of passion borne to fruition by parents who sometimes weren’t really trying to make a baby. Any time this information was imparted on an adopted child, it was meant to soothe and/or dispel any doubts the child had of being loved or being perceived as an ‘outsider’.
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One of the first things you remember being told is how you were chosen to be part of your adopted family, not a random act of passion borne to fruition by parents who sometimes weren’t really trying to make a baby. Any time this information was imparted on an adopted child, it was meant to soothe and/or dispel any doubts the child had of being loved or being perceived as an ‘outsider’.
Bullseye Records of Canada
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 