On Mother's Day

On Mother’s Day I reflect upon my mother, God rest her soul. She passed on Christmas Eve of 1994 and is someone to whom I owe a lot.

She was born on a farm in the 1920’s in the Midwest, one of eight children. And like many children of the depression, her goal was to have a job, a home, and food on the table. And she achieved those things.

But, she made a poor choice for a husband, marrying a violent alcoholic when she was 16. That lasted until she divorced him in her early 20s. She replaced him with another alcoholic, one who wasn’t violent, and remained with him for over 40 years.

Though no one in the family had much more than a grade school education she thought it’d be good if my brother and I got an education - maybe went to college. So we both attended Catholic high schools.  My brother left there for the Air Force. I left in my sophomore year in handcuffs - accused of a series of burglaries.  Most of my higher education was obtained during the ensuing 16 years I spent in locked up because of my addictions.  I didn’t get any formal higher education until I was over 50 years old.

I owe my mom a lot because she taught me about hard work. I watched her show up at her job in the electronics industry for many years.  She taught me faith and loyalty because she never gave up on me through my decade’s long struggles with addiction, jails, and legal problems.  

And she said things I haven’t forgotten. Once she asked why the police kept coming to the house looking for me.

I think my lame response was, “I don’t know, Mom, they just have it in for me.”

“I wonder why they don’t have it in for me?” she asked. Anyway, I got the point.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom…