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On Mother’s Day

My mother was the daughter of a Vaudevillian, but never stepped softly. She had an eighth grade education,  eventually ran a business, then ran it into the ditch, put herself through college in her 40s and always found ways to take care of her family. She had a quick tongue, a big heart and held confidences and grudges equally. She loved the smell of lilacs. She wore a diamond in her tooth before rap was born and had an eidetic memory for drink recipes and 1940’s movies. She worked in a factory to make sure her little sister had school shoes. She swore like a stevedor, didn’t like babies but loved her grandson and told me to pretend I was Katharine Hepburn when I was scared. She made my first leather jacket, took me to see Woodstock and never cared what the neighbors had to say. She was my first best friend and gone before I really grew up.

Your mother has her own fascinating story. Write it down and tell her you remember.

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  1. Sarah V.
    May 9, 2010 at 10:54 am

    Gorgeous writing, just like you. Dr. Laux says hello. Won a big Weekend College Award last night. See you next week

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