Thanks, Mom!: encore readers share their favorite memories of their mothers

Sophia Loren once said, in Women and Beauty, “When you are a mother, you are never really alone in your thoughts. A mother always has to think twice: once for herself and once for her child.” The double lives that moms across the world lead aren’t anything new to familial sustenance. When a child is anxious, a mother picks up on the worry, too. When a child’s laughter permeates the rafters, a mother’s reaction is sure to follow. When children succeed and fail, mothers find joy and heartache with them. That bond is one continuously praised throughout our lifetimes with our mothers. And in honor of that one day a year, when we’re all forced to recognize the strengths of our matriarchs, Mother’s Day, May 11th, we have asked readers to send in their favorite memories of Mom. To all the mothers reading this, thank you, and Happy Mother’s Day!

OODLES OF POODLES
“In the fall of 1972, my sister, Stephanie, turned 6, I turned 4. Eighteen days later my parents divorced. Mom’s money was tight due to a very angry ‘Daddy,’ who wasn’t paying child support correctly. At the time, both Stephanie and I were obsessed with Poodles.

“Looking back I’m not really sure why Poodles were our favorite canines, but nonetheless, we both wanted one oh-so-badly. So that year, when it came time for our birthdays, Mom asked us together what we wished for. We both replied, “An apricot-colored Toy Poodle, Mama!” Mama told us they cost too much, so it was not an option unless the Poodle was also what we asked for from Santa Claus that year.

“After discussing our options at length, late night under the sheets with a flashlight, we decided to forfeit birthday gifts and wait for our big gift from Santa. Christmas came, and so did ‘Susie,’ our first pedigree Toy Poodle. She wasn’t apricot-colored; apparently that one was the pick of the litter.’ She was brown instead, but we loved her so much for many years.

“My Mom came through for me then and has never stopped. She is the best part of me. I am Chet Fisher, 39, and my mom is Frances Lynch, 64.”

ALUMINUM CHRISTMAS
“I have a lot of fond memories of my mother, Pauline. The one that stands out the most is the Christmas of 1969.

“She invited our family and my husband’s family to her house for a Christmas party. The tree was not a typical green tree but a silver aluminum one, with a turning color wheel, decorated with blue and silver balls. The children thought it was the best tree ever!

“Mom loved to give, so of course everyone in attendance—family, distant family or not—received a gift. Even if it wasn’t much, all that mattered was it was a special gift from her.

“Yes, that was definitely one of my favorite memories of Mother. I can still see her running around with her new 8mm video camera with no sound and no zoom, filming everyone.

“I am Judy S. Carver, 59, and my mother, Pauline Miller, passed four years ago, when she was 76.”

PAINT THE TOWN CHICAGO!
“When I was in high school, I completely skipped over the whole ‘it’s not cool to be seen with my parents’ phase. In fact, for many years now, my mom has been one of my closest friends. We have always shared mutual interests that have allowed us to connect on many levels, while her youthful energy and spirit make our age difference seem nonexistent.

“My fondest memory of spending time with Mom was when she surprised me with a vacation to Chicago for my 21st birthday in 2001. She planned everything absolutely perfectly. We stayed at a gorgeous hotel downtown called the Hotel Allegro, just walking distance away from the Magnificent Mile. The first place we decided to visit was the Art Institute of Chicago, where I snapped her photo next to one of the famous lion statues outside. Immediately after, a security guard politely asked us to not climb on the statues (oops!). We giggled about it for the rest of the day.

“One of the things that Mom was most excited about was a Blue Man Group concert. She had seem them before, and could not wait for me to witness their amazingly wacky and creative antics. I was beside myself when we even got to meet them after the show, and they autographed our programs with big, blue kiss marks.

My favorite adventure (amongst many) from the weekend was when we took the L Train to a nightclub called Biology Bar. We really didn’t know what to expect of venturing out into downtown Chicago at night, then we ended up staying and dancing until 3am! I have photos from that evening in which there are huge smiles spread across our faces, and they’re not fake picture-posing smiles, either. We had an absolute blast.

“Now I live more than 600 miles away from my mom, and needless to say, that stinks. But she is an awesome penpal, and we laugh about the fact that we can talk on the phone for an hour without realizing it. I am very fortunate that when I decided to move from Ohio to North Carolina, she was completely supportive of my decision. I am Susan Zedella, 27, and my mom is Loretta Zedella, 47.”

GARDEN OF DREAMS
“I have so many fond memories of my mother, but nothing compares to times I spent with her in her garden. To say that my mother was a passionate gardener is an understatement. Throughout my life my mother constantly toiled over seed, plant and bulb brochures. Her planning process for her four enormous gardens was meticulous.

“Every year of my life, I eagerly awaited the full garden and the surprises that it held. As was our custom, even as a small child, my mother walked me through the garden describing every seedling and what it would soon become. When in bloom, she walked me through as we embarked on a tour of senses: touching, smelling and tasting. I remember learning about herbs from their unique smells and tasting them fresh from the plant. I remember late-night walks to embrace the sweet smell of Nicotinia.

“One specific memory that I hold close to my heart was waking up one morning on a visit to my parents’ house and looking out the window as my mother walked the garden with my toddler in her arms. I could hear her in my heart describing each flower and leaning my daughter in for each fragrant smell. My gardens may not be as grand as my mother’s once were, but they do exist. My daughter helps me plan and tend to them, as she hopefully will for many years to come. After all, we are our mother’s daughters.

“I am Lisa Layman, my mother is Jane Vetere and my daughter is Abigale Layman.”

TAKE ME HOME, MOUNTAIN MAMA!
“My family and I often took road trips to West Virginia to see our humongous family—singing songs, talking, laughing. I loved my mother’s views on life; they were unreserved, spunky and courageous.

“Unfortunately, my mother passed in 2002, and at her wake, the whole congregation started singing, ‘Country road take me home/to the place I belong West Virginia/mountain mama/take me home/country road.’ She always said she wanted a party when she died, and that is exactly what we gave her.

“I am Nicole Lindsey Ferguson, 29, and my mother is Linda Lindsey Ferguson.”

MEMORIES OF COMFORT
“One of my fondest memories of my mother is watching movies with her—just she and I. We wouldn’t just watch any movie but the real classic tear-jerkers. We would lie on the couch with our pajamas on, eating ice cream or popcorn, and really getting into the movie. I remember all the times we would look at each other at the end of the movie, and we both would have tears pouring out of our eyes. I felt such a connection and a level of comfort that I no one but her could fill.

“I am Kris Beasley, 41, and my mother is Barbara Adams, 74.”

WAITING FOR DAN
“My memory isn’t really my memory. It’s the story about my birth that I’ve heard for years and years. My mom has a reputation for being real frugal—you know, willing to drive an extra mile to save a penny. And so one of the stories that makes me most proud of my mom is the story of my birth. Right here in Wilmington in 1973 at New Hanover Regional Medical Center, which I’m told used to be ‘way out there’ even though it’s not any more, and they haven’t moved it either.

“I have an older sister named Haynes. When my mom went to the hospital to have Haynes, it was like 10pm—kinda late at night. When my mom checked out the next day, the hospital had charged my parents for an entire day even though my mom arrived late at night. I guess they charge like most hotels, not by the hour.

“So it was the summer of 1973, and my mom was pregnant again. This time with me—and again, late at night, she went into labor. My dad drove her to the hospital in some kinda cheesy 1970s car. Then my dad got out of the car and headed for the door, but my mom didn’t follow. She had her eye on the clock, and she wasn’t going into the hospital until midnight. My dad pleaded, and begged and sweated some more. He went in to try to get the nurses to come out and get my mom. But there she stayed—with me in there waiting to be somebody. My mom went into the hospital at midnight, and I was born 24 minutes later on July 14, 1973.

“I am Dan Brawley Jr., and my mom is Hannah Vaughan.”

A MAMA FOR THE BIRDS
“I recall my mom always threatening to leave us ‘for good’ one day. ‘I’ve had it!’ she would say, slamming some pots and pans around an incredibly unorganized and unsanitary kitchen.

“‘Who needs the aggravation?!’ she would ask herself, as me and my brothers could only laugh at her, barely realizing the absurd reality of fending for ourselves. Hence, we’d turn up the volume on ‘Welcome Back Kotter’ or ‘Hogan’s Heroes,’ just to annoy her more by blaring the silly dubbed-in laugh tracks of TV sitcoms. We would laugh right along with the psuedo studio audience.

“You see, my dad didn’t come around too much—who could blame him, really?—so as a matter of survival, we developed rather brash senses of humor, which I think made my mom wonder, Well, why the hell should I be stuck with these lazy smartass brats!?

“‘This is for the birds!’ she would add, which always seemed to me a rather cruel thought. What did birds ever do? I’d wonder.

“Well, one day, a particularly humid and hopeless day, I figure, she left with me to run to the store for cigarettes (I was then about 5 years old), and without telling my older brother where we were going. The store was only a half-mile away, and just as my mom was coming out of the store, lighting up her smoke, my brother could be heard sobbing in the distance, bearing down on us on his bicycle.

“‘I thought you were leaving me for good!’ he said, as she hugged him. ‘You’re always saying you’re gonna leave us for good.’ I’m sure the thought of her taking me with her—her baby and clear favorite (my brother was an early pubescent with hyper-active glands that made him a bit oily and kinda smelly)—had to be particularly painful.

“Once she had eased his fears that she was not leaving for good, she offered to put his bike in the trunk so he could ride home with us, but with the resilience of a child, he said with a tear-stained smile, ‘I’ll race you home.’ And thus we returned to our life of television sitcoms and the lingering, looming doom of being abandoned.

“Over the years it has become clear my mom had always had real ‘staying power.’ Even after my father admitted to all the extra-marital affairs, the illegitimate child in Kentucky, the blackmail payments, she still hangs in there to this day. I think she’s staying for good.” —JP Garnett

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Thanks, Mom!: encore readers share their favorite memories of their mothers