Showing posts with label brother. Show all posts
Showing posts with label brother. Show all posts

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Pop Culture



Today, for Father's Day, my brother and I took our father out for lunch. It was a rare opportunity for the three of us to spend some time together. I guess the only real difference between my relationship with my father and my brother's relationship with him is the names we call him — I call him "Dad," and my brother calls him "Pops."

I don't want to dwell on the subject too long. I'm grateful to have both my brother and my father in my life, and I hope they'll both be around awhile longer.

I have no reason to think that they won't — but I know anything can happen at any time.

For some reason, lately I've been thinking about a time in the weeks after my mother's death in 1995 when I was having a conversation with my father. He had been temporarily disabled in the flash flood that took my mother's life, and he was experiencing one of the mood swings he went through that summer. I told him how important he was to my brother and me.

And then, I remember telling him that I wasn't ready to lose both of my parents.

Well, here I am, nearly 15 years later. I got caught in the economic meltdown last fall, and I've been unemployed ever since. And you know what? I'm still not ready to be without both my parents. I've missed my mother terribly since losing my job. I can only imagine how much more of an ordeal this would have been if I hadn't had my father. He's kept me grounded and focused as I've tried to find an answer. Answers are elusive these days, but I can't imagine them being any easier to come by if he were not around.

So I'm glad the three of us had lunch together today. And I hope, if your father is living, you were able to spend some time with him.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Gifts My Mother Gave Me

The Dallas Morning News reminds us of some great quotes from some great presidents about their mothers.
"All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother."

Abraham Lincoln

"My mother was the most beautiful woman I ever saw. All I am I owe to my mother. I attribute all my success in life to the moral, intellectual and physical education I received from her."

George Washington

The other day, I saw an interesting article from Real Simple magazine that was picked up by CNN.com.

In advance of Mother's Day, readers were asked to describe the greatest gift they ever received from their mothers. By my count, 60 entries were compiled in the article. A lot more than that probably were submitted.

My mother died a little more than a week before Mother's Day in 1995. There have been a handful of days since then — maybe — when I haven't thought about her and wished she was here.

Until this year, I have made a habit of taking flowers to put on her grave on the anniversary of her death — but this year, I am one of the millions without a job and I couldn't afford to do what I usually do.

Even so, I went to the cemetery today and spent a few minutes beside her grave.

And, as I did so, I thought about the gifts my mother gave me over the years.

Naturally, when I was a child, my parents gave me toys and other things I asked for when birthdays and Christmases came around. Things of that nature that come readily to mind are Hot Wheels cars, a GI Joe, a pair of cowboy boots that I remember desiring when I was in second grade. Stuff like that.

And there were often times when Mom gave me things that I didn't ask for, but I cherish today.

I don't think Mom ever went anywhere without picking up a souvenir coffee mug for me. I am not a coffee drinker, but those mugs have a lot of sentimental value for me now. Looking at them never fails to bring back memories that I hold dear.

I don't know if I could narrow it down to one gift that was the best that Mom gave me. The more I think about it, the more I'm inclined to think that the best gifts Mom gave me were the things that I carry with me — my love of music and good books and history. Most of the things that I appreciate.

Here's a good example. Mom absolutely loved Peter Sellers' movies, especially the "Pink Panther" flicks. I have watched those movies several times since her death, and they always bring back wonderful memories. I'm grateful for those memories.

But I guess, if I had to pick the one gift that I am most grateful for, it would be my brother.

When I was a little boy, I don't think I felt that way. My brother was born not long after my third birthday. I don't remember what I thought or felt at the time — although I do vaguely remember not being allowed to visit Mom while she was in the hospital in our small town, probably because I was so young, so my father took me to the window of her hospital room and held me up so I could see her and she could see me.

When my brother was born, I probably wasn't wild about the idea of having to share my parents with someone else. But that's normal for a 3–year–old, I suppose. I don't think either of my parents were familiar with that reaction. My mother was an only child, and my father was the youngest of two children.

I guess it takes a lifetime of shared experiences for people to fully realize what a special gift a sibling is.

Today, I don't think anyone could be as fortunate as I am to have the brother I have. I'm proud of his accomplishments, and I'm grateful for his support and encouragement, particularly at this difficult time in my life.

Thanks for giving him to me, Mom. I love you. And I miss you.