Art and the philosophy of life

Posts tagged ‘Moms’’

Moms…

when you’re little
it’s usually a good idea
to follow your mom
even if she’s lost
because she’ll
keep you safe
no matter
where you are
unless a heartless
and evil human
in hiding
gets her
with a high power
rifle
because no one
can keep you safe
from humans

Kids, Life, Moms and Conversations…

“The news is DEAD.”

“It is?”

“Yes.  It’s all propaganda and manipulation.  All media is owned by a couple of companies and the government.  They show us what they want us to see and nothing more.  They do not show us what’s real or what’s actually happening.  They lie at every turn and if people stopped watching, they wouldn’t have anyone to lie to.  And a German company, that backed Hitler during the war, has control of global publishing.”

“Tell me again why you had me.”

“I know, Baby, I’m sorry about the things I tell you.  I just want you to be informed and safe.  But no one is safe.  Not really.”

“Great.  Now I feel a lot better.  I’m a kid you know.  Maybe you shouldn’t talk to me about these things.”

“Then how will you know about them?”

“I don’t WANT to know about them.  Those things are scary.  Contrails, fluoride in our water and toothpaste, GMOs and all the rest.  It’s horrible.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you stuff anymore, even though it will be hard because I want you to be informed.”

“I’m too young to be that informed.  I know more than everyone in my class about the bad things.  I usually know more than my teacher.”

“So you don’t want to hear about the moon ringing for over an hour when something hit it?”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“What does that mean?”

“That it’s hollow or full of hollow spots.  And it shouldn’t even be where it is because in spite of several theories, it’s impossible for the moon to be exactly in the spot it’s in and it’s impossible to have the orbit that it has.  It was put there.”

“What am I supposed to do with that information?”

“I’m not sure but now you know.”

“Maybe I’ll become an astronomer.”

“Sounds like a plan.  But what about being a lawyer?”

“I don’t think I want to be one anymore.”

“Where did you send all the books you collected for the kids who didn’t have any?”

“There were so many they went to several places.  Some here, some to other countries.  And, best of all, the librarians from all over are going to save children’s books and give them to us so we can keep sending.”

“Excellent.  See, if you didn’t know about kids not having books you couldn’t have done anything to help them.”

“How can I stop the German publishers?”

“Maybe we can find out what names they go under and what they publish and boycott everything they publish, including magazines and and everything else.”

“Sometimes what goes on in your head makes me tired.  There’s always so much to do.”

“I know, right?”

“How can you stand it?”

“I guess I don’t know how to think any other way.”

“Am I going to be like you ?”

“I doubt it.  And I’ll only tell you fun things from now on.”

“Like what?”

“Uh….  I saw a black and white cat today.”

“That’s it?  Seriously, that’s all you can say that’s fun?”

“Give me a minute.”

“How do you even stay awake?”

“Spring is coming and we can keep all the windows open.”

“Nothing BIGGER than that?”

“Ummmm.”

“Mom?”

“Sorry, Baby.  I’ve got nothing.  Everything else seems so tiny and unimportant.  You could have picked someone else to be your mother but since you didn’t, I guess there’s a reason that you’re mine. ”

“What’s the reason?”

“To be determined.”

“Do you ever stop fighting things?  Like in your dreams?”

“Not sure about the dreams but no for everything else.”

“How did you get this way?”

“I woke up.”

“What if I can never think of any fun things either?”

“Tell me something fun.”

“Al brought her Alice in Wonderland book to school and set it on fire at recess.  The teacher called the fire department but the book was out by the time they showed up.  Al said that it was her way of showing contempt for being named after a stupid fictional  character.  She has a month’s worth of detentions and her parents have to talk to the principal.  Sandra offered to mediate her sentence with the principal and try and get the number of detentions reduced and Al hired her.”

“That was fun?”

“We got to see a fire and a fire truck.”

“Excellent. See, you can still find fun things.”

“Would that be fun to you?”

“I’m too old for that to be fun.”

“So fun changes as you age?”

“Definitely.”

“I never thought about that.”

“I do have something fun.”

“What?”

“We’re having grilled cheese sandwiches with tomatoes and dark chocolate, strawberry sorbet bars afterward.”

“That is fun and what about applesauce and potato chips?”

“Definitely.”

“Ya, know, it’s okay if you tell me stuff.”

“No, Baby, it’s not.”

“I kind of like it.”

“That’s because I conditioned you to like it without knowing I was doing that.”

“Aren’t we all conditioned by everything that happens to us?  Gary ate something that made him sick and he said he’s never eating it again.  Isn’t that conditioning?”

“You’re a pretty smart kid.”

“I’ve got a pretty smart mom.”

“Love you, Baby.”

“Love you too.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mom…a very belated thank you.

My mother was a wee thing.  She was about five feet three, maybe four inches tall and she was, um, compliant and a push over.  She did what she could to keep things calm and running as smoothly as possible, which wasn’t easy, since my Italian father was demanding and selfish and I was, to use her own words, “A brat.”  Anyway,  she fed my father, which did absolutely nothing to add a single pound to his lean frame, but it kept him sleepy and contained. Believe me when I say dinner was on the table the second the garage door went up.  He came in, washed his hands and sat down to eat.

My father never raised a hand to my mother.  I never saw him do anything to her that would even suggest violence. He wouldn’t think of hitting a woman, an animal, or child, other than me.  He went for me now and then, because I drove him insane, when he actually recognized that I was there, that is, but my tiny mother  (my father was six feet three inches tall), would jump in front of him, hold her arms out to the side, usually in a doorway, and say, “RUN.”  I ran.  So, he never got me.  Came close once, but my mother and his sister stopped him.  I stayed away from him, not because I was afraid of him, I wasn’t,  I stayed away from him because I couldn’t stand him and he knew it.

But I was cleaning today and thinking about all the women I know who were beaten and hurt by their fathers and I suddenly realized that my mother protected me with her entire being.  She never would have let him touch me.  She wasn’t afraid of him and she would have done anything to stop him from hitting me.  I never understood that.  She never stood up to him, never, even when I begged her to do so.  But for me, she put her body in front of him and said, “NO!”  How could I not have understood that before today?  She was so small, compared to him. I could see him standing over her, his face filled with anger, his hands balled into fists and she would not move. She knew he wouldn’t hit her, but it didn’t matter, not really, she would do anything to stop him from hitting me.  I never thanked her for that.  I just ran out of the house, or upstairs to my grandmother’s and locked the door, until he calmed down.  It didn’t happen often, maybe just a few times, over the years, because I wouldn’t even sit in the same room he was in, so I rarely saw him.   Yet every single morning, he came into my bedroom, while I was still asleep, and woke me when he kissed me on the cheek before he went to work.

My mother told me that he changed after I was born.  He didn’t like having her attention taken away from him, so basically, he was just jealous.  Whatever.

But my wee mom, standing in front of my furious father was really something to see, for the two seconds that I saw them, before I ran away.  I’ll thank her next time I see her and I’m sure we’ll both laugh about it, because it was funny, at least to me, and then she’ll be on her own, because if she ever comes back with him, I won’t be with her to see it.  I told him that when he was dying.  I know he heard me, even if he was unconscious.  Never coming back with him again.

Anyway, mom was tougher than I thought/remembered and now I see her wearing a superhero cape, pushing big guys around and saving the world.  Yeah, I think she could do that.  She could save the world.  You don’t have to be big to take a stand.  You just have to know the right thing to do and then do it.

 

Marty, Virginia and Wags…

IMG_3550“My mom said that if you look for happy surprises everyday you’ll always find them,” chirped Virginia.

“My mom said that if you eat peanut butter your beak will stick together,” peeped Marty.

“Moms’ know everything,” woofed Wags

 

 

They all agreed, then went off the the Art Center to make puppets for their puppet show.

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