By Alex Berger
Your Berger’s Burg man offers a special Mother’s Day service for moms with “too-busy” adult children. Do as big business does — adjust your personal telephone greeting for best results. A suggested greeting follows: “Thank you for calling. Please listen closely to the following menu as my choices have changed. If you have a Touch-tone phone, choose from the following options: If you want baby-sitting services, press one; If you want a freshly baked apple pie, press two; If you want to retrieve some of your belongings, press three; If you want to know what I look like, press four; If you want to know how I am feeling, you must be calling the wrong number. So, stay on the line and your father will assist you.”
A man is lying on the operating table about to be operated on by the surgeon, his son. The father says, “Son, think of it this way — if anything happens to me, your mother is coming to live with you.”
Mothers, I am only joking. You know that I love you all and to prove it, read on.
Mother’s Day is the most “loving” holiday of the year and deservedly so, since everyone loves mothers. So, who was the mother who gave birth to this cherished day, I hear you ask? Allow me to elucidate.
The idea for picking a very “special” day to honor everyone’s very “special” mother originated with a very “special” daughter. She envisioned one whole day in the year devoted exclusively to thanking all mothers, in general, and her “special” mother in particular. You can argue that everyone’s mother is special. Yes and no. How about my neighbor’s mother-in-law who came by for a cup of coffee three years ago and hasn’t left since?
You again can say that anyone could have invented Mother’s Day. Yes, but it took a special person, Anna Jarvis (1864-1948), who grew up in West Virginia immediately after the Civil War ended in 1865, to do it. She wanted to express to the world how very special her mother (also named Anna Jarvis) was. When the war between the North and the South ended, dissension and animosity flourished among members of some families. Brothers, who fought on different sides during the war, remained bitter enemies.
The persistent intra-familial rancor disturbed Jarvis’ mother. She envisioned a holiday for mothers because she believed that brothers, to please their mothers, would make peace with one another on their mother’s day. Regrettably, her fervent wish never materialized during her lifetime.
However, on the first anniversary of her death in 1907, her daughter Anna vowed to carry out her mother’s wishes. Thus began a difficult and lengthy campaign to establish a day dedicated to all mothers. Thanks to Jarvis’ heroic efforts, Philadelphia became the first city to observe the day on May 10, 1908.
Flushed with this success, Jarvis continued to write to national and world leaders requesting that they also make Mother’s Day an official holiday. Soon Texas and Pennsylvania began observing the day. By 1911, there was not a state in the nation without some observance of Mother’s Day. In 1914, President Woodrow Wilson finally designated the second Sunday in May as Mother’s Day “in memory of the best mother in the world, your mother.”
Mother’s Day eventually grew into an international celebration with annual festivals held in Canada, Africa, China and Japan. The remarkable growth of Mother’s Day in a relatively short period of time is attributed to the fact that everyone has a reason to celebrate it — everyone has, or had, a loving mother.
Sadly, Mother’s Day has become very commercialized and more of a celebration than an observance. Greeting cards and gifts (flowers, but usually candy or cake) are pushed on the mothers. The sweets, I think, are given so that the children will have more mother to love.
Children living away from home return for the occasion and traffic on the roads of major cities develops severe cases of hardening of the arteries. Restaurants, with prices so inflated you would think you were buying a partnership in them, are filled to capacity while the perpetually smiling mothers, with inexhaustible perseverance, wait patiently to be seated. With so much attention paid to them, many mothers wish the day were over so that they may return to their normal lives. Mothers though, make the best guests. They’re so appreciative of everything.
I enjoy relating two stories that demonstrate that mothers are marvelous. A friend was congratulating a woman after her son and daughter were married within a month of each other. “What kind of boy did your daughter marry?” asked the neighbor.
“Oh, he is wonderful,” gushed the mother. “He makes her sleep late, wants her to go to the beauty parlor every day, won’t let her cook and insists upon taking her out to dinner every night.”
“That’s nice,” said the neighbor. “And what kind of girl did your son marry?”
The mother sighed. “Oh, I am not so happy there. She’s lazy, won’t cook and insists that they eat all their meals out.”
The second story involves my mother. A few years ago when my sister Anna was beginning her acting career, she had a small part in a TV show. Not informing anyone, Mama called the TV station and, in her European dialect, requested to speak to the producer. “That actress who appeared in last night’s show, I don’t know her name, was marvelous. She stole the show. I want you to also know that my daughter also sings and dances.” The producer told Anna about the phone call the following day and both had big smiles on their faces. That’s a mother.
I end my tribute to mothers with a few “mom-ilies:” When you go to the doctor, don’t wear good underwear. Your bill will be higher; There are millions of less fortunate children in this world who don’t have wonderful parents like you do; Will you look at the dirt on the back of your neck; Shut your mouth and eat your dinner; You can’t ride two horses with one tush; Never swallow a pit. A cherry tree will grow in your stomach; and, Just wait until you have children of your own.
One morning, a tired, young mother answered a knock on her front door. The caller told her that he was seeking donations for a new children’s home to be built in the community. “I hope you can give what you can,” he implored.
“Why, certainly,” the harried mother replied, “I will give you two boys, two girls, or one of each.”
Mothers know that a child’s real growth is not measured by height, years or grade, but by the progression of “mama” to “mommy” to “mom.” And a mother’s love is measured and reflected in her children’s smiles. So, moms, enjoy your children, enjoy your day and let the world enjoy your smile.
And to my own mom:
If tears could build a stairway,
And memories a lane,
I would walk right up to heaven,
And bring you home again.
Thank you and sleep well.
Reach columnist Alex Berger by e-mail at timesledger@aol.com or call 229-0300, ext. 140.
