Whatever

Writing in the April 2015 Vanity Fair, A.A. Gill issued a fair warning of things to come (or not come) with the article, "Goodbye to Hello," because the phone is dead and, at best, being replaced by text, sometimes spruced up with emoticons, the graphics of "those grins, winks and dangling tongues ... a lexicon of our cavemen ancestors ..."

So, how does this communications development affect Mother's Day, that admittedly commercialized day to express love to one who nurtured you?

Happily, the trend didn't stop my children from calling me on Sunday, and, as always, it was great fun talking with them. Each year, I am touched when I hear them say, "Thank you for having me."

In Florida, one can overhear passing remarks in the nail spa and hair salon. It seems retirees are learning not to expect much in the way of mail, email or phone calls on any given day and also how to interpret the shorthand in texts that may shoot our way. Best not to expect too much. As writer Anne Lamott said, “Expectations are resentments under construction,” and who wants to go there? 

The May day continues to celebrate the new mother with some fanfare; The one photographed in profile with a baby bump - and then, next thing you know, holding that bundle of joy: The mother who is invariably sleep deprived, overbooked, pressured to be a perfect mate and parent, hanging on every word of a good mommy blogger's site. The one who advances nonstop as the planning center of her solar system up to the moment the band plays, "Pomp and Circumstance" for her last child.

Face it, if you were good at your job, the kids long ago flew out of the house, screen door slamming - to make the most of life - from school to work to relationships and adventures, all we had wished for them and more.  

Still, comics score points with guilt jokes centered on having to call, "Ma." Advertisers sell products mocking this back seat driver of our lives. Eyes roll in conversations about her exasperating expectations or habits or characteristic signs of aging. Yes, one day, mother, you discover you're a joke on the comedy circuit.

"Whatever!" I say to the chuckling comics on the screen and direct my energies to the moment and place in which I exist. I thank my mother in my thoughts; the mother I haven't seen since her death when I was 31. Much as I loved my mother, I wasn't always there for her; not when I was sleep deprived, overbooked, pressured to be a perfect mate and parent, hanging on every word of a good mommy newspaper column.

Yet, she always sounded delighted when we did connect, and that was such a relief. So, I go on about life, and anytime I connect with my children, it is a delight. Reminds me of a shout out heard long ago on the prairie, "The stagecoach came to town and, Mercy Sake, look who's on it!"

That Waltons' view beats any irksome second guessing that can plague a mind between calls. Almost makes me want to rustle up a hog to roast, break open the canned pickles, and bake a cake. Or, it would if I were an old-fashioned mother. Fast forward: "How about I microwave something for you?"

These days, I get to apply my nurturing bent to spoiling our cat, who is suitably unimpressed, and to feeding a sapphire-blue beta fish, who, with an undulating, total body-wave, seems deliriously happy when I appear. I am content to water a hanging ivy, fanning schefflera and other houseplants that respond to my green thumb.

So, Ma, if your mailboxes (real and virtual) were empty and your phone was silent, if you deem yourself among the invisible despite the warnings about the death of the phone and all, I wish you a belated Happy Mother's Day. Remember our buzzword, "Whatever!"