Saturday, May 7, 2011

You've Heard of the Headless Horseman...., know, the old traditional Hallowe'en story by Washington Irving.

Well, now, in honor of Mothers Day, I want to introduce you to the headless mother. the one second from the left in the old, old picture. I can say old now,because if she were still alive I would be in a serious heap of trouble.

I'm sure she is watching down from heaven now and is already in forthright discussion with Saint Peter and his boss about what kind of a son I was since I didn't always live up to her expectations.

I have no idea what year the picture was taken but I would venture to say it was before 1910, but Mom was never one to discuss age. My mentioning age could be another thing she might be discussing with St. Peter. So to redeem myself a bit, I need to focus on some other sides of her life.

She was a wonderfully creative person. A prolific poet and short story author. I recall seeing poems shw wrote in very old issues of St. Nicholas Magazine. Like in the early 1900's. She wrote articles for the Villager Magazine of the Bronxville (New York) Women's Club, at the time - a group of very sophisticated and prominent ladies of the time. I believe the club still exists and perhaps the magazine as well. She also served as a staff member of a major magazine (I like to think it was McCalls) back before she was married. And I like to think it was her joy in writing that I inherited and still treasure. (Thanks, Mom!) I remember her prancing around the kitchen with ballet steps in our old house on the hill (when it was still primitive) and I remember her working for two days straight to get her recipe for spaghetti sauce just right. I remember her genius at putting together hilarious shows for Grange. And she had a real gift for restoring old dolls and doll clothing.

Apart from that, she kept wonderful flower gardens, and a lovely house (complete with a "French" room that was off limits except on special occasions. I remember one time that we could not leave her house to head home until she had finished watching her soap opera, and I remember her coming downstairs one time complaining that I had my bumpty bump bump music up too loud (she did not care for the boosted bass on my stereo). Most of all, I remember her love and support when I was a child and most surprising of all, when I was a teenager.

So, Mom, I send my love, and thanks. I hope I haven't turned out too bad and I offer thanks for all the encouragement she gave me 'back when'. She had real class and I'm still proud of her. And I hope the smaller picture will give you an idea of the beauty of a real lady - my Mom.

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