Today's Mother

I feel compelled to offer an unrelated preamble today. The thing is that I've never been much for running posts on the actual day their subject matter might call for, and this is no exception. It occurred to me that if I'm going to write about mothers, maybe the thing to do is to wait until May, when the holiday occurs. I could even write it now and schedule it for then. I just figured that if I wait, I'll forget the idea I have, and if I write it now, I'll have to see it sitting there on the webpage for months. That sounds even worse to me. I'll just run it now, I reasoned, and no one's really got any standing to question that. It's really nice to be answerable to no one where this blog is concerned, although if I were it might be more successful. Such was F. Scott Fitzgerald's reliance on his editor, if I recall right.

Now then, I believe I was actually going to discuss mothers. This calls for some reminiscence. I was born in the early 80s, having my early childhood during that decade, with my later childhood and adolescence falling in the 90s. Throughout all of my childhood, a certain picture formed of what a mother was and looked like. She might or might not work, and while she might not look like June Cleaver, she didn't look like Joan Jett either. I'm speaking in generalities, you understand- not specifically referring to anyone in particular. When I think of all the women I knew to be someone's mother at the time, they were more or less conservative in appearance. Casual and formal wear did not veer too far from the offerings of Sears or L.L. Bean. Jewelry was restricted to rings, bracelets and earrings. There was no- and I mean no- body art of any kind.