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From WWR

Created: Mother's Day 2006. Please add for 2007

Listener tributes to Mom

Jimbob's Mom

Jimbob's Mom

There's so much I could write about my Mother. I grew up knowing women are men's equals as scholars and business people. My mother and her mother were both successful independent business women before there was such a thing. My Mom went to Stanford, studied foreign languages and graduated in 3 years with top honors during WWII. She is a Phi Beta Kappa and the most curious person I've ever known. She has run several family businesses and continues to keep close tabs on financial matters both local and national at age 81. As a kid I remember seeing her read the Wall St. Journal and the local Court Reporter every day. And if I brought home anything less than an "A" on a report card Mom would do everything in her power to insure it wouldn't happen again.

Yet Mom also knows that scholarly pursuits and finances are not the only things, or most important things, in life. She raised 3 kids, has maintained a family cabin in northern Michigan since her childhood, has traveled extensively around the world, has been to more Sunday church services than all of us put together, was married to and loved my father for 30 years before he died and has taught herself everything from calligraphy to computers to home canning to real-estate to tax accounting. I often sit at my desk and wonder how she has done it all. And she almost always did it smiling. People would call her on the phone just because she could cheer them up simply with the joy in her voice.

When I was a kid, Mom always had the perfect balance of discipline and love. You would do everything possible to make her happy, but if you messed up (as I often did) and were sure she was gonna kill you, she'd often say "Did you do the best you could?". If you said "Yes", and she believed you, then she would be as warm as a goose down blanket, as forgiving as a flower and as loving as a tropical breeze. And if you hurt yourself, there was no doctor in the world who could heal your ills as fast and as well as Mom.

All of our Moms are special. But, excuse me for saying, mine is the most special to me. big_old_hug Mom and Happy Mother's Day!

Bisbonian's Mom

QuiltMama at the organ

My earliest experiences are laying at my mothers feet as she played the organ, and directed the choir. I gained an intimate appreciation for Bach, and music in general. My mother raised three kids as a single mom, working nights, sorting mail by hand at the Post Office, before the days of automatic sorting. In her spare time(!) we made latchhook rugs together, and leather purses for sale, and of course, quilts. After she remarried, and while raising a fourth child, she decided to go back to school and finish her degree...we worked on Fortran and Statistics together! She travelled completely around the world using local transportation, and I gained an interest in the world's different cultures through her experiences.

She always encouraged studying hard, doing well in school, and working hard. Growing up in a rural/suburban setting, I learned to raise chickens, goats, pigs, rabbits, ducks...and of course we had dogs and cats. We gathered eggs, milked the goats, sold or butchered pigs (and made everything that can be made from them), as well as raising an extensive vegetable garden. Mom canned fruit and vegetables, salsa, chutneys, pickles. We raised far too many zucchini, ate it, sold it, fed it to the animals, gave it away, couldn't give it away! We also experimented with solar and wind energy. Not only did I grow up with an understanding of what it really takes to raise food, I gained an appreciation for sustainable living that, sadly, most of our society doesn't have a clue about.

Mom is still at it...gardening, playing the organ, canning peaches and salsas (she won a Blue Ribbon at the county fair last fall), studying western history and Icelandic geneology, and most of all, quilting. Her quilting has really taken off, and she is learning new skills, and passing them on through a local group in her town. She shares an interest in the music at Whole Wheat Radio, and once in a while she joins the chat as QuiltMama. Thanks, Mom, for all I've learned from you. Happy Mother's Day!

Terri's Mom

Terri's Mom, c. 1949

Anagram's Mom

QuiltMama with Anagram in her arms - always!

My Mom can do anything.

She can raise children, build a house, teach me how to build a deck, and help me build it. She can teach me to grow and can peaches, tomatoes, apricots, salsa, anything. She can play any music ever written - the first time she sees it. Mom knows how to run a Skil-Saw, a chain saw, a Saws-all. She can make a scrumptious dinner out of just about anything you might have in the fridge.

Mom knows how to sew beads on a fancy dress to make it beautiful, how to walk upright and confident to show her own beauty, and teach me to do the same. She delights in feeding large crowds of people, and tucks her love into all her delicious food. She is smart, and is confident about letting people know that. She makes friends with so many people, and helps them all.

If I have a question about anything, I call Mom, because she knows the answer. "Why does...." "How does..." "I can't figure out..." "If I want to do this, what..." "How come..." "Help!" Mom has the answer.

And she's a pretty cool lady.

Esther's Mom

Esther's Mom with Baby Esther

Esther with her Mom in September 1966

My mother, like me, and like her mother before her, is a Great Laugher. If there is one gene I'm glad I got, it's the laugh-gene. My mom can throw her head back and laugh like cascading bells. It's a wonderful thing. Especially at the Passover Seder, after a few glasses of wine. I think that's what I always picture from those family gatherings, is my mom's laughter increasing in frequency and delight as the night goes on.

My mother has an amazing voice. It's like a song. Her voice sounds young and feminine still to this day, with a lilting shape to it's tones. When she answers the phone, her "hello" is a 3-note melody, buoyant and almost coy. This is all colored by an absolutely endearing Israeli accent. She has lived in the U.S. since her mid-twenties, so although the accent is still very much there, it is grammatically perfect, and without harshness... and it's just, well, cute. Hearing her occasional messages on the answering machine always puts a big smile on my face just from the sound of her voice.

My mother most definitely wanted to be a mother. You can see it in these pictures of her with me as a baby. Such joy and pride in her face. And speaking of pictures, she has always loved having her photo taken. Someday I'll have to post some wonderful photos from her youth... she was very pretty then, and I think she's very pretty now.

My mother likes to speak in proverbs. They still resound in my head. "If I do not laugh, I will cry". That's my favorite. Some others:"Life is a series of ups and downs." "You give them a finger and they take the whole hand." "The apple does not fall far from the tree." "Life is not a bowl of roses." "To treat a pig, you must be a pig." I think this tendency came from her mother, who emigrated from Poland to Palestine in the 30s. My grandmother's proverbs were darker though: "For mankind, life is to suffer." or "Youth is vaysted on the young." And "Vat can we do?" always accompanied by a shrug...

Esther's First Birthday with Mom - 1967

Esther with her Mom in Nikko, Japan, 1992

My mother has always had a tendency to worry about me. It used to drive me crazy growing up. I'd yell at her, "Don't WORRY Mom!" She'd say, "If I do not worry, who will worry? Will Mrs. Flynn worry? Will Mrs. Burns worry? You are lucky that I worry for you!" That was always the answer. I suppose she's right... it's awfully nice to have someone who loves you enough to "worry" about you... What I called worry, she practiced as dedication to her children. She gave all of herself to our upbringing, and I am indeed grateful for that.

Thanks Mom. heart kiss2 Happy happy Mother's Day!

LuAnna's Mom

My mother was special, briliant and talented. She knew early in her life that she was put on this earth to dance and dance she did! She began performing st the age of three, started teaching dance at age 18 and taught dance until she was 72. Meanwhile she raised her own three children, two of whom were guite brilliant and one that... well, she always said she "enjoyed" me, along with two stepchildren. Like so many midwesterners, she had a quick wit and a wonderful sense of humor. She returned to school and completed her Master's degree the same year that I completed my Bachelor's degree. We were in the same graduation ceremony! Her formal education went on for more than 60 college hours on top of that, but she never stopped learning. She taught me what it meant to be a student of life.

I can honestly say that my mother was NOT the Mrs. Cleaver of the nieghborhood. She saw nothing rewarding about cooking or cleaning so I guess I come by that honestly. Those were things she could hire done. But she taught me early the importance of feeding my soul. She read to me. She gave me dance and music and so totally supported me in every dream I ever dreamed. The real dreams, that is. She believed that people helping people could make a difference. She gave of herself, sharing time, talents and treasure a hundred and ten percent. She was energetic and youthful well into her later years.

My mother was strong and independent. She thought that every woman should be able to change a tire, have her own money and make up her own mind about things. She never used the word feminist nor preached it to me. She taught by example. She was extremely opinionated which was only sometimes a good thing! I did not always agree with her, but we were always very good friends. When I was ten years old, I came home from school begging her to please dye her hair because I was the only kid in the fourth grade whose mother had gray in her hair. She did that for me and it was years before we got to see her beautiful white hair. I still feel bad about that.

The day I became a mother, I realized what Mother's Day was all about. From then on, I gave my mother flowers every year on my birthday

When Mom died, we had no funeral. Instead we had a dance in her memory, just as I told her we would. We shared the song "Let it Be a Dance" with everyone who was there. It was a joyous dance. Mom would have loved it.

Onthebuse's Mom

Onthebuse's Mom

Onthebus & siblings at the Piano - Mom play that Boogie Woogie!

My mother taught school her whole life and can still remember every single name of each one of her students. She taught us to learn for learnings sake and not just to get a good grade or to please anyone. I often marveled how she could teach school all day to a classroom of fourth graders and then come home to the three of us children and still have the energy for her family. When she was pregnant with me it was in a time when a teacher was not allowed to teach when visibly pregnant. They asked her to leave one month before the school year was out which she thought was ridiculous. She fought the school board and the district. She lost but always said that's where I got my fiesty nature. When she finally retired, she simply said she wanted to retire while she was still having fun with the kids and before she became an 'old bag.'

Mom plays piano and as kids our favorite thing was to ask her to play boogie woogie. She does a great boogie woogie, dancing up and down the keys with screeches and yowls and can really get down. She loves all sorts of music from classical to bluegrass to blues and can even tap her toes to some rap.

Mom taught me about independence and adventure. She traveled and taught in Europe before she married my dad at the ripe old age of 29. She always told me that you should never wait on someone if you want to do something, just go ahead and just do it yourself. By far the most important thing mom has taught me is about unconditional love. Even when I have screwed up, I have always known mom would never turn her back on me. She's supported my dreams, and has always believed in me even if she truly didn't understand.

Dad died a few years ago as did several other friends and family members. Mom could have just withered away in Chicago but instead decided to embark on a whole new life and moved down to Arizona to be near her cousin. She has lost 50 lbs, walks, swims, square dances, volunteers at the hospital, goes to lectures, and movies and keeps learning and exploring life. Mom is a great friend, mother and grandmother to my daughter who affectionately calls her "Second Mom."

drumbilly's Mom

My mother was quiet, a teacher and had a gleeful laugh. When I was banging away on my drums during high school in the basement, people would call on the phone and while they were talking they'd ask her how on earth she could put up with THAT NOISE!!! which was going on. And she would ask them what they were talking about. Only recently did my younger sister become totally shocked when I told her, no, I didn't get strait A's in school. Particularly in Math. It was all in Mom's mind. She and Dad came to some God awful places to see me play over the years--everything from jazz to hard rock to country and folk rock--they'd come if they were in town. They were married almost 60 years and died 30 days apart. Dad had lung cancer and though Mom had been very feeble those last years, she suddenly gained new power. Then one night I suddenly woke up in the middle of the night around two in the morning. I was planning already to leave later that day but I KNEW I had to leave then. I drove like a madman and got to Kansas City in 8 hours. It usually takes ten. My sister and I went to see her. She seemed very far away. Pam said, "Mom, Bill's here." It was silent for a long time and then very softly she said, "Yes. Yes, I know." We went back to Pam's house so I could take a quick nap but she was gone before we reached Pam's house. Those were the last words I heard her say. I think she was just waiting on me to get there. Have the family together one last time. Dad had taken care of her so faithfully those last years that I think she saw he would hold on in pain longer than he needed and I think she made the choice to go ahead and get things ready for him wherever they would end up. I still feel them with me today. At this very minute. Whenever I see geese I think of Mom. Whenever I see seagulls I think of Dad. So I do a lot of thinking about them. They supported me in everything I did. They fly with the birds. Move with the wind. They'll be there when my days end.

Rubenerd's Mum

My uncle and mum in rural New South Wales (Australia)

As Jimbob said there are so many things I could write about mummy, none of which I could do justice to, but I'll give it my best shot.

My mum Debra was diagnosed with cancer while I was still a little kid and to this day I don't ever rememeber her feeling 100%. We're resigned to the fact that as long as she's alive and there isn't a cure, she will have it: an endless cycle of treatment and recovery. Despite this she is still the nicest, sillyist, cheekiest, and most friendly person on the planet, and even if she's not feeling very well she'll still put on her world face and not let anyone know it.

As a teenager growing up I would have my differences with her and we'd argue occasionaly but most of the time we were really friendly and especially in the years leading up to me leaving home to move back to Australia I would like to think we were best friends. Leaving home was the hardest thing I've ever done in my short life to this point.

She was also always so nice to my friends and would even go to the trouble of making her world famous Spagetti Bolognese for us even when she was too giddy to stand up.

Furniture shopping in Singpore :)

My mum just turned 50, and was definitely a hippie! She can paint and draw the most amazing art you have ever seen and can decorate a room like nobody else. Probably one of the biggest contributions to me was my taste of music (which eventually brought me to Whole Whear Radio all these years later!). While my friends were listening to the Billboard Top 40, I was playing my mum's Herb Alpert, Eric Clapton, Michael Franks, Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel and Van Morrison CDs.

Amongst all her other talents she is also fluent in Elvish (Lord of the Rings) and can write the most beautiful caligraphy; which made me really ashamed of my 8000 font computer!

My fondest recent memory of my mum is sitting at the Starbucks in the Paragon Shopping Centre on Orchard Road in downtown Singapore, enjoying a coffee and laughing about silly things, or sitting in the Oncology centre while she had her chemo playing Yiftico (a card game she taught me which has become a family institution) which she of course would nearly always win!

Now that I'm back in Australia I still try to call her at least four times a week, because I don't just consider her my mum now, but my best friend. I'm just sad that this mothers day I'm over 5000 kilometres away from her.

I love you mummy big_old_hug.

Atomic Robot Woman's Grandmother

Jimbob's mom is a hard act to follow, but I'll give it a go since she reminds me of my grandmother. When her health began to fail, the doctors told her she'd had a good run, but she was 94 years old now and it was time to let go. "It's true that I'm 94," she said. "Nothing I can do about that. But I want to be 95." She did indeed live to be 95, with five more years to boot, and she had all her wits about her until the last few months of her life. "I like a challenge," she used to say, and one day she decided to read the Bible cover to cover. She was something of a pantheist, but rural Texans were raised Baptist, so I guess she thought it was a worthy goal. However, she didn't get far into the Old Testament before she threw it down, saying, "This is a terrible book!" My grandmother was born on a farm near Dallas and went to college in Huntsville, Texas. One day a professor was giving a lecture on his recent trip to New York City. My grandmother, always curious about the world, attended. She said the man delivered a perfectly wonderful lecture, but he was so visibly nervous that she decided to go up to him afterwards and compliment him. The professor, a widower twice her age with three children, later proposed marriage. My grandmother's family objected, but she felt sorry for Mr. Longino and she didn't listen. My grandmother took on the job of faculty wife and mother to three stepchildren and then two more children of her own. Mr. Longino gave her only half his salary to run the entire household, so money was tight. She thought that a proper home should have a sofa, and so one day she decided to build one. She went to the junkyard and found some automobile seat springs and stuffed them with rags, built a frame and covered the whole thing with cloth. "No one would sit on it but me," she lamented. After Mr. Longino died, my grandmother had five children to support, so she got a job at the college and later became director of the Sam Houston Memorial Museum. When she took it over, the place had just two employees--my grandmother and the night watchman. When she retired the museum had several dozen. Every year she'd travel to Austin to request funds from the legislature. Her boss instructed her to ask for more than she needed because they never give you as much as you request. My grandmother refused to lie. Her boss threatened to fire her if she didn't. Still a single mother then, this was serious business. She went home and figured out how much money she could make selling flowers from her garden and selling eggs from her chickens in the backyard. She figured she could just barely make it. In Austin she stood up to make her request, and her boss quickly stood up and tried to drown her out. She told him to sit down and be quiet, and then she launched into her speech. End result--the legislature gave her more than she requested and she never had trouble with her boss again. In her southern way, she was a bit of a sexist. "I've never met a man who wasn't a liability," she said. "What about Robert?" I asked, referring to my husband. "He's an exception," she said. "He's a saint." (Because he put up with me, she meant.) I guess I've written enough, and I can't think of my grandmother for long without tears coming to my eyes. I wrote a short story dedicated to her. "Fishbone" is posted on my website at www.donnatrussell.com. If you were here, Munnie, I'd wish you a Happy Mother's Day. I miss you more than I can say. Grace Crawford Longino, 1901-2002