Everyone has heard the story about Mother's Day 1971 - when I was somewhat saddened by the fact that Bonny didn't give me anything for Mother's Day!! (Bonny was 7 months old!!)
When I queried Dad, his response was, "Well, you aren't my mother." Over the years, this story has taken on a little of the quality of "outraged" myth. Let me set the record straight - in case there are some concerns. Dad is not ungenerous or unthoughtful. He does, however, have his very own way of looking at things. And his way of looking at things is that gifts are given by individuals who want to give those gifts. I'm not sure how things worked out when he was a kid, but I suspect that his dad didn't take him shopping or give Helen gifts signed "love Harry Jr." Probably as soon as he was able to do something about it himself, he gave gifts to his mom on Mother's Day. (And certainly over the years he has given me a lot of lovely gifts for many different occasions.)
This approach to life is a constant with him. When our kids were old enough for sports and Scouts, his approach was, "Well, if he really wants to do it, he'll make sure it happens. And if he doesn't make it happen, he probably doesn't want to really do it." I, on the other hand, came from a family where you were sometimes compelled to do things like Scouting. And I'm not sure being "compelled" is all bad either. I'm pretty sure that neither Harry nor Noah would have gotten their Eagle Scout rank without my urging. And frankly, I enjoyed working with them on the goal. I'm not sure there were too many other activities that were so far-reaching that I could have done with them.
But Dad is also a quick learner. On Mother's Day of 1972, Bonny "gave" me my first Henckel knife - one I still have and use all the time. And the next year, in 1973, Bonny and Harry Francis "gave" me my treasured copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking.
So on this Mother's Day 2010, let me say that I wouldn't be a mother without Dad. Or without our great kids. The gifts and cards and calls over the years are treasured memories. But the best gift of all has been your well-lived lives. (Even if some of you don't wear your retainers anymore!!)
And Dad gave me a Mother's Day bouquet today - one he'd ordered ahead of time from Margit Holokai.
When I queried Dad, his response was, "Well, you aren't my mother." Over the years, this story has taken on a little of the quality of "outraged" myth. Let me set the record straight - in case there are some concerns. Dad is not ungenerous or unthoughtful. He does, however, have his very own way of looking at things. And his way of looking at things is that gifts are given by individuals who want to give those gifts. I'm not sure how things worked out when he was a kid, but I suspect that his dad didn't take him shopping or give Helen gifts signed "love Harry Jr." Probably as soon as he was able to do something about it himself, he gave gifts to his mom on Mother's Day. (And certainly over the years he has given me a lot of lovely gifts for many different occasions.)
This approach to life is a constant with him. When our kids were old enough for sports and Scouts, his approach was, "Well, if he really wants to do it, he'll make sure it happens. And if he doesn't make it happen, he probably doesn't want to really do it." I, on the other hand, came from a family where you were sometimes compelled to do things like Scouting. And I'm not sure being "compelled" is all bad either. I'm pretty sure that neither Harry nor Noah would have gotten their Eagle Scout rank without my urging. And frankly, I enjoyed working with them on the goal. I'm not sure there were too many other activities that were so far-reaching that I could have done with them.
But Dad is also a quick learner. On Mother's Day of 1972, Bonny "gave" me my first Henckel knife - one I still have and use all the time. And the next year, in 1973, Bonny and Harry Francis "gave" me my treasured copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking.
So on this Mother's Day 2010, let me say that I wouldn't be a mother without Dad. Or without our great kids. The gifts and cards and calls over the years are treasured memories. But the best gift of all has been your well-lived lives. (Even if some of you don't wear your retainers anymore!!)
And Dad gave me a Mother's Day bouquet today - one he'd ordered ahead of time from Margit Holokai.
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