May 10 2009
Mother’s Day
It’s probably Psych 101, but maybe because I had such a conflicted relationship with my mother, I’ve always sought out older women in my life. Since my mother is no longer with us, I thought I might pay tribute to some of the other “mothers” in my life.
First up is the one and only Genevieve. She had the cool elegance and beauty of Grace Kelly, despite her humble beginnings. She was one of thirteen children, and never went to high school. She married and was widowed young, and when I met her, she was somewhere in her 60s. She managed the beauty salon where I worked during college, and carefully planned my work schedule around my school schedule without my asking. If it weren’t for her, I would never have gotten my degree, and my life would have been very different. It was as if, not having an education of her own, she was determined to make sure I did. We stayed in close touch, and I though I was devastated by her death, I am so glad I had her in my life. She was a gift.
Next is my beautiful stepmother, Margaret. Always on the go, always perfectly groomed and dressed, but always had time for me. She was the love of my father’s life. They were incredibly happy together, and she was as calm waiting for a broken-down bus to be repaired in the African desert as she was shopping at Harrods. She built up what we laughingly referred to as “the empire”, buying up houses in London after the war, renovating them, and selling them at a profit. She was flipping houses long before it became fashionable. She learned to drive when she was forty, bought a car and then told her husband* about it, when it was too late for him to object. She always made me laugh. She, too, is gone, but will never be forgotten.
Now, there’s the appropriately named Joy, who really is one. We met each other through my very talented friend Mike, who is her son-in-law, and over time, I have come to rely on her unflagging friendship, cheerfulness, and good advice. I’m always delighted to hear her voice on the phone, with its charming accent, and when she’s away, I miss our near-daily e-mail exchanges and on-line Scrabble games. She’s made me a better Scrabble player, and a happier person, knowing that I have a little Joy in my life.
In fact, we recently exchanged views about Mother’s Day, and I said that although it may be commercial, it’s nice to thank the person who gave one life and gave up so much along the way. Being a parent is sacrifice and hard work and should be appreciated. It’s good to stop and tell someone how much they mean to you, even if takes a made-up holiday to do it.
*I hasten to add that this was her first husband, who died many years before Dad met Margaret.