Mother Superior Jumped the Gun

Mother memories, shooting first and reclaiming your narrative.

Happy Friday, readers!

Consider this your reminder to order flowers or do something nice for the woman who birthed and/or raised you. Maybe take her to brunch somewhere with a good mimosa situation, and let her tell you (again) about how she ate Christmas dinner that one year and thought she had indigestion, but it was really labor pains, and then out you (okay, I) popped the very next day. Let her tell you about how you never made her mad, or disappointed her (except for the swearing), or gave her a hard time, even though you know better. She is drinking mimosas, by God, so would it kill you to let her see motherhood through rose-colored glasses for just one day? I say it won't. Besides, you can tuck away the outlandish stories or preposterous claims for a later date. You never know when you might need them.

I'm being rascally, I know. It's because I'm thinking about my beloved mother as I type these words, and she has a tendency to bring that out in me, whether she likes it or not. How about a bit of family lore to prove my point? Here goes: One year, my sister, brother-in-law and I took Mom to Thomas Jefferson's Monticello for a milestone birthday. Mom has read maybe every volume ever written about TJ, so for her, this was quite a pilgrimage. It was like going to Disney World after seeing every film Walt had made, or visiting Paisley Park because...Prince..., or you know, going to the White House after you read and fully understood the Constitution of the United States. You see what I mean.

So we're taking the tour of Jefferson's home, Mom's happy as a clam, and then we get to the library. Another visitor asks a question about Jefferson's writings that the tour guide can't answer...but my mother can. I don't even remember the question, but as soon as the guide essentially says "yeah, I have no idea..." my mother steps in to save the day, dropping massive Thomas Jefferson knowledge bombs left and right. She was on one hell of a roll, so much so that another tour group arrived for their turn in the library, only to realize that there was an impromptu college history lecture going on. My sister and I are giving each other looks like, "wow, she really is on a tear" and "go, Mom" and also "stop, Mom" but mostly go, I suppose. At some point, my poor mother realizes she is holding up tours, and abruptly snaps back to reality, only to say "oh, um, anyway...you can Google it!"

There was absolute silence.

The biggest mistake my sister and I could have made in that moment? Looking at each other. As soon as we did, we broke out in uncontrollable laughter, barely able to spit out the words "you can...Google it?" We were laughing so hard we were gasping for air.

Irritated, my mother turned around and hissed "What is wrong with you two?" as if we were in our teens, which we were most definitely not (on paper), but her fussing only made us laugh harder. To this day in our family, the phrase "you can Google it" is not just helpful advice, it's a punchline that's at least guaranteed to elicit an evil smirk, because I'm pretty sure none of us will forget that day among Thomas Jefferson's books, even though Mom was the only one of us who had read them all, perhaps even multiple times.

Stories like these are one of the many reasons why I love my mother so much, even though now she will probably find a way to ground me for sharing this lore. She makes me laugh, she makes me want to do better, be better, and I'm so grateful she is mine.

Hug your moms this weekend!

Paige

Writing prompt: What's your favorite story about your mother and why? Spill all the details you can recall, and write about how these memories make you feel.

Collect books, even if you don't plan on reading them right away. Nothing is more important than an unread library.

-- John Waters

Endnotes

What I'm reading

Amy Griffin's The Tell is a powerful, poignant memoir about facing one's past and then healing from it, which is no small feat. For Griffin, relief didn't come from seeing an abuser brought to justice (spoiler: he wasn't), but from ultimately understanding that the abuse didn't – and wouldn't – define her. Ultimately, she would reclaim her own narrative. Griffin writes: "Even if facing it is hard, it's also so important. I thought of this as something I was running from. But in running from that, I was also running from the best things this life has to offer – freedom and happiness and real relationships with the people around me. You can't have light without any of the darkness. You have to feel it all in order to feel any of it." This is one of those must-read books, and I promise you it's not just because Oprah Winfrey said so. Every woman will be able to relate to at least some of what Griffin recounts in these pages.

What I'm watching

"Harry Benson: Shoot First" is a fascinating and funny documentary about the life and career of the acclaimed photographer, Harry Benson, a Scotsman who captured iconic celebrity photos like the Beatles pillow-fighting in the Georges V hotel in Paris, as well as some of the most evocative photojournalism of the 20th and 21st centuries, including the civil rights movement, Robert F. Kennedy's assassination, Richard Nixon's resignation, Hurricane Katrina and more. Though his photos are stories in and of themselves, Benson shares even more tales about the people he's photographed, the moments he's experienced, and the gumption it took for him to get the shots he did. It's fun, illuminating, and inspiring all at once, so go check it out. Also, I may or may not have spoken with him this week for a story, too, so I am really, really excited and will share the piece as soon as it runs.

What I'm listening to

"The Spy Who Dressed the Queen" podcast, which tells the true story of Hardy Amies, a fashion designer who worked for the Special Operations Executive (SOE) during World War II. Formed in 1940, the SOE conducted espionage, sabotage, and reconnaissance in German-occupied Europe and aided local resistance movements. Though Amies worked for a couture house, he was of particular value to the SOE because he knew how to speak French and German. Before he knew it, he found himself coordinating the killings of Nazi collaborators in occupied Belgium. He never talked about what he did during wartime, but this podcast draws on various official documents and personal writing to piece his story together.

What I'm thinking about

According to the Guinness Book of World Records, 115-year-old Ethel May Caterham is currently the world's oldest person. Some of her longevity advice involves having a positive attitude, and doing things in moderation. My favorite bit of her wisdom: "I never argue with anyone. I listen and do what I like." Good for her!

Where I hope you'll donate this week

Your local NPR or PBS station really could use the support right now. Please consider a gift, and thank you.