Happy Mother’s Day to all mothers reading this column. Mother’s Day is a special day, but it doesn’t seem right to thank and praise mom on just one day a year.
While looking at a waffle recipe in one of my cookbooks, I came across a page from a 1987 Ladies Home Journal. It was the winners from a contest for the best and worst advice your mother gave you.
One woman said the worst advice her mother gave her was, “Never wear torn underwear in case you get hit by a truck.” How many of us have been given that same advice? I think it’s pretty sound myself. Another mother’s worst advice was, “If you want to attract an athletic man, wear Ben Gay behind your ear.” I’ll offer no comment on that one. A mother who must have been related to my dad offered this gem, “Don’t waste time entering contests; they’re all fixed.”
The list of best advice from mothers was what we expect from our mothers and their wisdom. “Like yourself before worrying if others like you.” Or this one, “Never judge your mother until you are a mother yourself.”
I guess time doesn’t change how we see our mother as much as our maturity. If young women are like young men, they probably don’t pay a whole lot of attention to advice from their mothers. I don’t think my wife did, or she wouldn’t have married me.
My mother died when I was eight years old. My dad re-married and moved away and I didn’t get to know my stepmother until I was in my forties. I was raised by my grandparents and my grandmother doubled as my mother and grandmother. I don’t mention this for sympathy, rather that I’m not really a good person to write about mothers. The few things I remember about my mom are mostly pleasant but they are small dots on the canvas of life. When I say mostly pleasant, I’m omitting the time an irate father carried me to the door to yell at my mother because my girl buddy and I poured sand in his son Rex’s hair. I don’t remember my mother understanding that Marcy and I thought it was unfair that Rex had a sandbox and we didn’t, so we thought we’d get even, and that Marcy could run faster than me (which has been the story of my life).
I feel that it’s my duty to give the rookie cooks out there an important tip that I picked up recently. When you cut the cellophane wrapper off a unit of microwave popcorn be darn sure you don’t cut into the bag! Occasionally I have popcorn as a treat for supper. (Well, yes, it’s easy too.) Last Saturday as the popcorn was popping away in my faithful zapper, I noticed a sliver of the bag on the counter. Hum I thought; I wonder where that came from. When the microwave dinged and “Enjoy” popped up on the screen, I opened it and saw what had happened. This gave a whole new meaning to the term, “Kettle Corn.” I don’t think I need to describe the mess I encountered.
A blessed and happy Mother’s Day to you on this nice day.
Al Owne is on Facebook and Twitter with a new photo see him at email@example.com