In Praise of Mothers

"Men are what their mothers made them."
Ralph Waldo Emerson

To a large extent that's true. But I think the observation could be expanded to include all women who've played significant roles in nurturing and guiding a person. I can think of many such figures in my own life.

At the top of the list, of course, is my mom. Having successfully completed the job -- as a single mother, no less -- she should have been able to sit back and relax until the pendulum swung in the other direction and she needed some care herself. But fate has little regard for our expectations, and things took a different turn when ALS appeared on the scene. My mom is now performing many tasks she thought she'd seen the last of decades ago. And she does it without complaint, which is especially remarkable when you consider who she's dealing with.

It's far too late to thank her, but my maternal grandmother was a huge influence in my early years. She'd tell you that she was my nanny, cook, and chauffeur -- and she was. But she was also teacher, travel companion, and moral guide. She's behind my Quakerism, my love of travel, and my loathing of bullshit. Grandma called things the way she saw them. And she was usually right on.

Her younger sister, by contrast, rarely saw the need to call things one way or the other. Despite being the "frail" one, Antoinette outlived my grandmother by more than two decades. She too was a great presence in my life, but she saw only one role for herself: that of cheerleader. Although she had no children of her own, she encouraged and celebrated every person she loved, and there were many. Shortcomings just made her cheer harder. Everyone should have an Antoinette in their life.

Over the years, I've acquired even more "mothers," each of whom has nurtured me in her own way. Like Bonnie, my stepmother, and Terry, my uncle's significant other of almost 30 years, both unfailingly supportive, always asking what they can do to make my life easier. There's also Florence, a neighbor who's been a family friend for three generations now, and Mary, who took care of me when I was little.

And finally there are other people's mothers. I've always felt lucky to have exceptional friends, and sometimes I got lucky twice over. Several of their moms opened their wings and welcomed me right into the nest, often becoming friends in their own right. A great privilege in each case.

At this uncertain stage in my life, it wouldn't be surprising to feel dark and apprehensive -- and sometimes I do. But usually I feel warm and secure, in large part because of all that mothering. So thanks, Mom. And "Mom" ... and "Mom" ...

Happy Mother's Day!