Mom turns 70

[mgc1961]

Very much like the gift we gave my father when he turned 70, my sister is now compiling a collection of words submitted by family and friends to commemorate my mother's 70th birthday. Such as it is, this is my part.

There are five principle activities I associate with you, Mom. They are painting, travel, the preparation and eating of good food, photography, and gardening.

Painting springs to my mind almost immediately. Partly, this is due to the numerous works you've completed. Some of them are blue self-portraits. Others are still life water colors. And still more of them are outdoor scenes. The one painting, which I think was your first large-scale project, I always think of in connection with your painting is Shiprock in oil that hung in our living room for so many years. Equally important in my mind and perhaps the most outstanding photograph of you in our family album is the black and white photo taken of you at a painting class in New Mexico. It's not one of fierce determination to complete an assigned work. Neither does it display the deep contemplation of someone applying paint to canvass. It's just Mom, leaning back slightly, if I correctly recall, joyfully laughing. I see in that photograph the kind happiness someone experiences when they discover an activity which positively fills a void.

Mom's you never been one to shy away from adventure. How many trips you have taken? I don't know, but even putting aside urban sight-seeing trips the number is still considerable. A day hike to Clingman's Dome? You did that. Machu Picchu, Peru? Yes, please. A safari in Kenya? You were there with the mosquito netting and iodine. How about a Gauley River white-water rafting trip? "Where's my paddle," you asked? It's all been good for you hasn't it? Even now, as I write this gift for you on your 70th birthday, you're with Dad in Casablanca, Morocco on a excursion that began in Toledo, Spain.

As for food, who among your three children doesn't remember Ramen noodles and Spam or those delectable fish stick dinners during our adolescent years? I do. I also remember dramatically fighting your exhortation to eat my squash. Boy, things changed in that regard. Not only did I grow to like squash, we went from boxed dinners to gourmet dishes in just a few years. But let's not get carried away. You always preserved a few simple dishes to which we happily returned. Two of my favorites are chicken soup and the occasional meatless meal of fresh vegetables including turnip greens, black-eyed peas, fried corn, sliced tomatoes, and boiled eggs. Let's not forget the wine. Oh, no. Wine, as we got older, became an important part of many good meals.

Mom is also photo bug, having picked up both the camera and instructions on how to use it. Color or black/white, you employ them both in yet another one of your successful endeavors. Many of the photographs remain just that. For example, your shots of the mechanical lines of the engine on my Virago or that photograph of me wearing my plaid flannel shirt and the British driving cap I bought to accessorize my Austin-Healey Sprite. I think I was about 18. Other photographs however, went on to be rendered on canvass, including some wall hangings of Spanish haciendas that now hang in Melany and Steve's home.

Lastly, there's your inner horticulturist who organized the collection and placement of railroad ties around our driveway that serves as a garden border, the ferns on the front porch, and the parish poinsettias. All of which is a testament to your authentic understanding of the value of life's green spaces. Let's just call it your love of all life. What does that sign in the yard say again? You know the one. I remember it well. It says this: "One is nearer God's heart in a garden than anywhere else on earth."

Mom, if indeed there's a life everlasting you've earned it in spades. There's no question of that. So be happy knowing that your family proudly loves you.

[woodsprite]

1. What a wonderful statement to your mom,

and a wonderful life she's had so far. She sounds much like my husband's aunt, whom I affectionately call our "Renaissance Woman". His aunt is 73 and decided to take her 15yo grandson to Egypt to see the pyramids this summer on a camel caravan. I just can't get over how much living people like your Mom fit in during their lifetime compared to others.

Thanks for posting. Your story made me smile. :)