May 11, 2003

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  Happy Mother’s Day, Mom,

  
  

   wherever you are!

  
  

  

  
  

  My Mom and I, Rider College Commencement, May, 1980

  
  

  My mother was a professor of Business Education at Rider, this picture is just before we left for the Commencement Ceremony, both in our ceremonial caps and gowns. She walked with faculty, School of Education, and I walked with the Class of 1980, School of Liberal Arts and Sciences.

  
  

  This photo was taken outside the breezeway door, in front of the same flower bed pictured in yesterday’s entry. Incidentally, the rose bush on the right is the same variety as the two I just got to go in this space.

  
  

  My brother and I both went to Rider (he graduated in January, 1977) and my mom not only taught at Rider for her entire career, she also had her B.S. in Secretarial Studies from Rider (and a Masters’ in Education from Temple University) She always joked that she only had to work until my brother and I both finished school, so we could get the tuition remission that went to children of faculty, and then she could retire.

  
  

  Ironically, one month after my graduation, she had the first seizure that was the indicator of the two cancerous brain tumors that took her life just barely 10 months later, at the age of 57.

  
  

  My mom was a very well loved and highly respected member of the community. She touched many people’s lives in her all-too-brief lifetime. Unfortunately, her desire to help the community and unselfish, ego less nature kept her so busy she was usually exhausted, and had limited time to spend with her family. It seemed that whenever there was a holiday or she had some time off, she would end up getting sick, mostly because she pushed herself so hard the rest of the time, that when she had a chance to slow down she just collapsed.

  
  

  My most vivid memories of my mom were the heart to heart conversations we had as I followed her around the house as she was getting ready to go to work or to one of her many meetings, or the precious stolen moments we managed to get together sometimes when she would take me out of school early for an orthodontist appointment or something, and we would make an afternoon of it, just the two of us, sometimes going out for a bite to eat, or to the Italian Peoples’ Bakery for a special treat.

  
  

  My teenage years were a very trying time, and I know I hurt her feelings and worried her unnecessarily, as most teenagers do, probably even more (the 1970′s were a very tumultuous time of social change, experimentation and upheaval, and there were bound to be some casualties between the generations)

  
  

  My biggest regret is that we never had the chance to relate to each other as adults, after I was out of school and “in the real world”. I also regret that I didn’t hug her and tell her I loved her more. Nevertheless, we were still very close in our way, and she taught me well and helped to shape me into the person I am now. From her I learned patience and compassion, how to listen to everyone’s opinions and then make my own decisions following my heart and what I knew was right for me.

  
  

  I still feel her presence very strongly, and in many ways, it is like she never really left completely. There are so many times when I need answers and don’t know what to do in a given situation, and then I see my mom in a dream and she helps me work out a solution. And so many times when I see something or do something and it makes me think of her.

  
  

  She loved nature, and flowers. Every year on Mother’s Day when we were little, the whole family would go to the nursery and pick out the flowers for the flower beds around the house. It was my Dad’s treat for our Mom for Mother’s Day. Then we would go home and plant them. She liked to dig in the dirt, and space the plants out carefully, all in nice neat rows, and would laugh and laugh when little hands would have trouble with hose nozzles and end up spraying the water on her instead of in the holes…

  
  

  She loved animals, too, especially baby ones. She put up with all the critters I brought home (almost, she was deathly afraid of snakes) and suffered through the oddest menagerie of pets, livestock, and rehabilitated wildlife. She told us stories of the animals on the farm when she was growing up, and how she and her sisters each had their very own calf to raise for a 4-H project. My dad never let me join 4-H, probably because he didn’t want any cows or horses in the yard – my little flock of 13 black chickens were enough!

  
  

  I think my Mom would really love the dogs I have now. I know they would love her. All animals seemed to gravitate to her. Probably because she was so generous with the treats…

  
  

  Mom always wanted to be a writer. She co-authored a typing textbook, but never realized her dream of publishing anything else. She was always so busy helping everyone else with their problems, she had very little time to pursue her own dreams. But that was okay with her, because she was one of those truly special souls who really cared, who really wanted to help in any way she could. She was not just a teacher, in terms of “her job is to teach”, she was an educator, in the truest sense of the word. Her career was who she was, and her office door was always open to students needing help, even after she was home from work for the day.

  
  

  I often feel that she is looking over my shoulder as I write these weblogs. She was always encouraging to me of any creative pursuit I took off on, even if she didn’t understand it. The written word she understood. She passed that on to me. I am just realizing since I started this site exactly how much she passed it on to me.

  
  

  I really had a hard time learning to type. No matter how we tried, I couldn’t get the hang of, or didn’t have the self discipline to stick to it. I even tried practicing with Mom’s textbook, to no avail. It wasn’t until I got a computer, and a “Mario Brothers teach typing” program designed for kids, that I finally learned how to type. I am sure Mom had a really good chuckle over that. I guess I have mentioned in the past that I was the “black sheep” of the family?

  
  

  Mom typed all the time. On a noisy little Smith-Corona portable electric typewriter on our kitchen table. She typed stuff for classes, she typed minutes of meetings, she typed the mimeo stencils for the weekly church bulletins (she was an Elder in our church and was on several Christian Education committees) she types our term papers, usually the day before they were due, as we were frantically editing our rough drafts. She typed anything anyone in our extended family needed typed up for anything. I think in the back of my mind I grew to think of that typewriter as a rival for my Mom’s attention, and that was why I hated it so much.

  
  

  One of the last things my Mom did at school was to learn all about the mysteries and complexities of the amazing brand-new invention — the Word Processor! It was such an amazing thing, with big old floppy disks, and a huge processor. Part of it was in one classroom, and part in the other. I didn’t pay much attention. I figured there was probably no reason I would ever need to learn that sort of stuff. Little did I know what would come to pass in the next 20 years or so.

  
  

  Now I spend most of my time at my computer, right here at home. This is how I stay in contact with my family and friends. This is where I work. This is where I meet people from places I would have only dreamed about back when I was in college. And even become good friends with some of them. And this is where I sort out my thoughts, and my memories, and my feelings. As I write in my journal. As I type. Yes, Mom, I type. Still not well, but it is how I express myself now. I guess you were right all along. Thanks.

  
  

  I love you, Mom!, and I wish I could hug you just one more time.

  
  

  

  
  

   

  
  

  *update (comment on a comment): Thank you, scrr, for mentioning to me how much I look like my mother now. I have never looked at this picture next to my profile pic (taken in 1995, but still pretty accurate, except the hair color) and your comment prompted me to take a good look. Now I see why everyone has been telling me how I look so much like my Mom lately. When I was younger I resembled my Dad more, but as I aged, my face has changed. I never noticed the similarity in the smile! Sometimes it takes a person you have never actually met to tell you what you really look like, I guess.

  
  

   

  • 8:45 pm
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