47: Week 16

Today is mother's day, and while my cynical self used to declare this day a Hallmark manufactured holiday for people to buy cards, it is now a day that is usually marked with missing my mom rather than struggling to find a card that might reflect the complicated emotions I felt.  The shmaltzy I love, you're the best mom types of cards felt insincere, and even though I am certain my mom would have loved getting one from me, I never sent that type of card. I'd often look for one that said Happy Mother's Day. Perhaps the inside might say Celebrating you today. I would always call, and I would usually send flowers or ask my dad or a sibling to buy a nice hanging plant for her on that day. 

My mom (and dad) took me to my first protest--an antiwar march during the Vietnam War era. Even though I don't have particular memories, since I imagine I was probably around 9 or 10 years old, I do know that it was something my mother would sometimes relate to me, marking days when she stood up with others to protest and not be silent. I do remember, probably years later, attending a talk by Russell Means, and even though I probably didn't fully understand all the particulars of the American Indian Movement, I did understand that he was an activist, and fighting for justice and educating myself about movements was necessary. Many summers were spent with my family attending the Clearwater Great Hudson River Revival, listening to Pete Seeger and other folkies sing and urge for action to clean up the Hudson River. 

Today, I thought about some of these memories, grateful for the values instilled by my parents, and especially my mom when it comes to politics and using your voice. I have no doubt that if she were living and my age, she'd be making phone calls, gathering with friends to protest, and being outraged many times a day. During the late 60s and early 70s, my mom wore the necklace pictured here. When it stopped being a necklace, she kept it in a vintage printer's rack that held various tsotchkes and sentimental items. Now, I am so glad to have it, its message a deep part of my being.

This morning, when I opened my email and read Robert Reich's Sunday thoughts, "Moral clarity in the time of monsters," I thought of my mom, and knew that in these times, she would not be silent.