My favoritest mama, The Mater, who just happens to be MY mama, had a birthday today. I won’t say which birthday, but I will say that 1) the lady is a veritable font of eternal youth and 2) she gets lovelier every year.
Mama, you are one of the great blessings of my life.
Mom with the girls on one of many lazy mornings:
Mom with me (pregnant with H.) and my brother, Joe. It was a very, very happy day—Joe’s graduation from his Family Practice Residency at UW-Madison as one of the Chief Residents—and she was positively glowing with pride:
Mom on one of our England trips, this taken in a coffee shop in Brighton after she (as usual) had splurged, not on herself, but on me: bright blue suede shoes.
To the woman who flung bologna rings at tigers (me and Joe) in the living room so we could catch them in our mouths,
to the woman who played the theme song from “The Lone Ranger” 40 times straight on the Lowry organ at wall-shaking volume while my brother and I galloped up and down the hallway whipping our imaginary steeds with red Twizzlers,
to the woman who poured lemon iced tea into my open wounds on a bike trip,
to the woman I have wet my pants laughing with more times than I can count,
I love you. Please stick around for at least another half century, lady. Life wouldn’t be the same without you. You are the reason I have hope, you are the reason my DNA twists toward the light, you are the reason I come up for air. Polka on, mama.
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