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Everyday something new, and quite frankly bizarre, seems to happen in these United States.
Each morning “and as I rise” (Alabama) I no longer check to see whether there is “new” news. There doesn’t seem to be an original thought on television anymore and the humor has disappeared completely.
Everyday we have “journalists” who’ve never written a cogent sentence in their entire lives repeating nonsensical blather.
Every night we have “comedians” with writing staffs who believe Nazi references and literally crying is what Americans now find entertaining.
It goes even further than that as most of us in America have finally arrived at sensory overload and are now choosing to not listen to anything coming from the Boob Tube.
How do we know this?
Rating are horrible across the spectrum.
There will always be a “winner” when two or more entities vie for the same customer but interestingly enough, we the customer, have decided that poison comes in many shapes and sizes and this does include at least one square box in virtually everyone’s home.
Yet, as they say, time marches on.
We measure time in many ways. The most common is minutes and hours. Seconds move too quickly for most activities to matter unless you run track or did at Chico State and then you want less seconds not more. My superstar nephew will understand that better than most.
Although months are part of our measurement equation, we as humans, really look at time through two prisms.
Days and years.
We remember very specific days, that are important to us, or are important to others, that we do indeed remember.
There also appears to be subjects that most of us pay little attention, that some in our society believe, we should.
For a year to pass without a leap 365 days must occur. In those days we celebrate “incredible” feats like Chicken Dance Day, Root Canal Appreciation Day, and Nylon Stockings Day. Putting aside the nylons, who doesn’t like a quality chicken dance or appreciate a good root canal.
We just completed the month of April which began with One Cent Day, Peanut Butter and Jelly Day, and Find A Rainbow Day.
I wish some people had only one scent although I didn’t realize this was something that needed to be cheered. On the other hand Peanut Butter and Jelly Day, especially grape, could happen, at least for me, once a week.
It doesn’t but it could.
Find a Rainbow Day?
I prefer Melting Snowflake Week.
Fifty-two weeks of it to be precise.
Wednesday April 5th was Deep Dish Pizza Day followed by New Beer’s Eve and completed on Friday April 7th with Walk to Work Day.
That joke writes itself.
As April wound to a close Pig in a Blanket Day was followed by Malaria Day.
With the arrival of May it appears the build up to a maternal moment was carefully planned.
Both Mother Goose Day and Mother Ocean Day arrive early in May.
Not sure if the geese care and it seems a bit redundant to attach Mother to Ocean.
I’m pretty sure Mother Earth has this covered but then again what do I know? I’m just a guy.
Still every year, one day in May, we set aside a day to celebrate those that we call Mom, Mother, or in some cases “what’s up Gladys?”
We send cards, candy, and gifts. We take them out to breakfast, lunch, or even dinner if someone is running late or hasn’t planned properly.
We tell stories from years past that were funny at the time or have now become laughable.
We say Happy Mother’s Day and thank you. Thank you for the days of getting us out of bed before the sun rose and off to school with full bellies. Thanks for brushing our hair especially when we fought you the entire time. Thank you for requiring us to take bathes and later showers whether we wanted to or not.
Thank you for teaching us to read and “doing” our numbers with us.
Thank you for Christmas gifts that were wanted and the socks, nightshirts, and puppet show building that wasn’t.
Thank you for re-creating Aunt Millie’s fudge (I like yours better) making sure we always ate our fruits and vegetables (who knew it could snow on broccoli) and not freaking out when we hoisted the dogs into the tree house (and couldn’t figure out how to get them down).
Thank you for listening when I needed to talk and letting me be when I didn’t.
We thank the mothers of America who know that these United States are a Constitutional Republic and not a Democracy.
Who know the truth isn’t a sometimes thing and hard work doesn’t stop at the end of a ten hour shift.
That being a mom is so much more than a “job”. It’s an adventure. An adventure filled with success and love, sleep deprivation, Friday night collapses on the couch and crazy Sunday morning hair.
It’s filled with tiny bodies jumping on the bed begging to be held followed by the teenage years of “please drop me off down the block and stop trying to kiss me” moments.
There are moments of pride and relief with graduations and weddings, empathy and tears with divorce, and of course the ultimate “payback” as I’ve heard it said many times.
All of the fun and none of the calories.
So to all the mothers on this day, their ONE day, I say Happy Mother’s Day and thank you. Thank you for the bake sales, the car washes, the silver dollars in Vegas that were traded for stuffed animals at Circus Circus and for chaperoning the school field trips…I think.
Thanks Mom. Between Duffy Moon and the Little Engine that Could I always knew “I could do it” or at least “I think I can, I think I can, I think can.”
This I know.
I love you.
Happy Mother’s Day.