Page 14 MAY 2018

My mother moved us from Washington to the real countryside of Maryland, when I was five years old in hopes of breaking my father away from his mother’ s apron strings but it didn’ t work. My father worked two jobs, attended college at night and stayed tied to his mom. My mother found herself stuck in a house that was a mile down a dirt road and surrounded

by woods and water and with no car. Eventually, she was accompanied by four children.

My mother struggled with a period of being in a depression, where she drank cokes, read hundreds of romance paperback books and held and caressed one of our cats always. At times she stared off into space. My mother was not a housekeeper, but she could take hamburger meat and turn it into so many dishes. I figured that the old A & P store must have sold cans of tuna packed in oil, for about 20 cans for a dollar because she also fixed that greasy tuna in so many ways. To this day I still can’ t stand tuna.

My mother never spared the use of the rod to the point of sometimes using it too much. My mom told us if we misbehaved when we were out somewhere we would pay the price when we got home. She never forgot. I just learned that if I was going to get it anyway, I might as well do what I wanted all day. Most of the time, I did. Unfortunately for my mother, I had the same personality as she did. When I was 14, I worked at the local newspaper, and when I was 16, I moved in permanently with my grandmother. I realize now that this broke my mother’ s heart. I don’ t think she ever quite forgave my grandmother or me for this decision.

Later when my brother and sisters grew older, and my mother had her own car. She started working with disabled children, and for 20 plus years she gave love and encouragement to hundreds of these kids. She also headed the( Confraternity of Christian Doctrine) CCD program at her beloved Catholic Church, which she continued to do until her late 80’ s. It just about killed her when she had to give this up. My mom suffered from dementia in the last few years of her life. In my heart of hearts, I was always proud of my mother. She had so many talents that she never pursued for different reasons. I have some beautiful sketches that she had done. I now know her dream was to go to Vanderbilt University. I am what I am today because of my mother. Everything I have done was done subconsciously to win her approval. I always wanted to make her proud. My mother was never happy with my decision to be involved with newspapers. Her desire for me was to be a lawyer so I could be a Judge or more.

When I was a teenager, I had to register for the draft, but because I had lost toes in a lawnmower accident, my classification was 1Y, national emergency only. After I graduated from school, I received a letter that I was reclassified to 1A. When I was taking my physical, I was given a packet with all the forms. They said I was unemployed and wanted to go into the service. After examining me, I was reclassified 1Y. Later I asked my mother why she did that. She claimed that she did not and stood by it. Like I have noted, mother was not only stubborn, but she was determined I was not going to make my career in newspapers. Mother loved it when I married Molly. She loved her like a daughter. I think she thought she was going to be the stabilization I needed in my life.

After 35 years I have to admit my mom was almost always right. It took me until the end of my mother’ s life to realize that I hadn’ t needed to accomplish things to make Mother proud of me. The last time I saw my Mom, we were walking down the hall to a Thanksgiving dinner. She turned to me and said,” What do you do?” I told her I was a newspaper publisher. She looked at me and said,“ I have a son that owns a Newspaper.” I told her that I knew that, as she smiled. The same night, she also proclaimed to all that were there that I was conceived in New York City. Something I always wanted to know. I knew right then that in spite of living in the dark hole of Dementia, my mom was proud of me and loved me. I did not cry when mom died, and I did not cry when we interned her with my

L O C A T E D A T T H E B R I D G E S A T C O N Y E R S

N E S T L E D I N C O N Y E R S, T H E S U G A R M I L L B A K E R Y O F F E R S C A K E S, C U P C A K E S, C H E E S E C A K E S, T A R T S A N D B R E A D. S T O P I N T O D A Y F O R A T A S T E!

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father at Arlington Cemetery.

Later after I had time to look at all of the paperwork, I found carefully cut out accounts of all my ventures. She kept a diary when I was a baby. In the same diary, she stated what she wanted to accomplish in her life. I then cried because I realized that my Mom was gone and that her love was always more than bittersweet, I could go on and on to tell you about my mom. I don’ t smoke to this day because of her. I never quit trying to be the best I could because of her and I always still have dreams of achieving anything I want to do because of her even now at my age.

If your mom is still alive, tell her how much you love her right now. Don’ t wait until tomorrow. Do it now. Remember that tomorrow doesn’ t always come.

Happy Mothers Day Mom. I love you.

Till next time.