She should've been in front of a classroom, with an apple on her desk, kids lining up to clean the chalkboard erasers, and a stack of papers with gold stars she'd award to each student for their efforts. I say this because some of the most valuable, enduring lessons I learned were from her. Here are a few of them.
1. Always laugh.
Mom: "Do you see that? It looks just like a henway."
Me: "What's a henway?"
Mom: "Oh, about 3-4 pounds!"
Mom has a never ending arsenal of puns, riddles, jokes, off the cuff remarks, and a laugh that is so infectious it almost needs a vaccine. She taught me to appreciate everyone from Carol Burnett, to Richard Pryor, to Andy Kauffman, to Bullwinkle and Rocky. It's rare to find a picture of her where she's not smiling, laughing, or about to smile or laugh. Years ago, she had a t-shirt that simply said, "If you can't take a joke" on the front, but if asked, she'd show you the punchline, which was under the tail of the shirt with impish glee: It said, "F*ck you." Now my mom doesn't have a mean or malicious bone in her body. She does have a mischievious one, though, and that shirt summed up her philosophy in a way more blunt that she would: You have to laugh at the world sometimes. If you can't do that, then you need help.
2. Never stop wanting to learn.
When her mother died in 1991, my mom got the opportunity to train for a brand new career in health care after working for years in a tank assembly plant. She took classes for months, went through intensive on the job training, studied to pass certification exams, and became a successful certified nursing assistant. She was asked to help train new CNAs when they came to work on her floor and learned specialized wound care skills. It was a job she loved, but it was a hard, physically demanding job. About two years ago, she had to retire due to her health, but she quickly got bored at home no longer working. A few months into her retirement, her supervisor called her to ask if she wanted to train to become a unit clerk and return to work. She jumped at the chance, eagerly learned how to use a computer, quickly picked up the new skills, and proudly rejoined her team. She said both career changes were scary, but she loved learning something new, being at the top of her training classes. She said she was afraid she wouldn't be able to catch on quickly, glossing over the fact that when she was working in the plant, she'd gone from a janitor to material handling (inventory control and management) to assembling tank components to inspecting the components before they shipped. On all her jobs, people looked to her for leadership and guidance because she was one of the sharpest minds among her peers. She did all of this while guiding my sister and I through school. She encouraged us to read anything we could get our hands on. There were always books, magazines, and newspapers around. She'd get us puzzles, coloring books, notebooks, board games, anything that had a hint of educational value. She went out of her way to make sure our teachers knew her and how to reach her. She'd volunteer for events at school, come to all the afterschool activities we took part in, and sold more than her fair share of candy and trinkets during fundraisers. She checked homework, studied report cards, renewed library cards, typed research papers, and worked like hell to pay for private school tuition. She showed us how to be smart, how to tackle challenges - even when they scare you, and how studying hard can pay off.
3. Dance to the music.
My mom is crazy about music. For as long as I can remember, she was always singing and surrounded by music. My sister and I grew up listening to artists she loved, folks like The Temptations, Al Green, Otis Redding, The O'Jays, and Parliament. Later on, I remember her introducing my sister and I to rock, disco, pop, gospel, and even classical, simply by what she listened to on the radio, which always seemed to be on at full volume. She took us to musicals and plays so we could see and hear all types of performers and sounds. As my sister and I developed our own musical tastes, she never said the patented parental cliche, "Turn that noise off!" Instead, she listened, and became a fan of all sorts of new sounds. Today, if you were to check out her iPhone, you'd find all sorts of fun things on her playlist, everyone from LMFAO to Luther Vandross, from Brenda Boykin to Booker T and the MGs.
4. Be open and accepting.
Once, my mom and I were in a party store on Woodward near the Medical Center. In front of us in line was a man who looked like he'd been to hell and back. Dirty, smelly, shifty-eyed, he appeared to be the type who'd make you grab your purse, check your pockets, and run in the opposite direction. When he looked at her, she smiled and said hello. Soon, they were in a conversation about the weather, the lottery, how prices were going up, politics - it was like they were old friends, laughing and joking. Wherever we go, she manages to make a friend, spot an old friend, or make someone feel like a treasured friend. Many of our family friends have adopted my mom as their mom because she makes people feel comfortable and welcome around her. When she talks to you, she talks to you, not at you or over you. When you're talking to her, she truly listens. I can't tell you how many times she's run into someone she hasn't seen in years, and not only remembers who they are, but remembers their last conversation and will pick up right where they left off. She doesn't give handshakes, she gives hugs. If you're at our home, you will be offered dinner, something to drink, a piece of cake, the most comfortable seat, something to make you feel comfortable and treasured because she truly treasures your presence. It's an amazing gift.
5. Stay strong.
The day her mother died, Mom quit smoking. Cold turkey. This was after helping care for her as she battled a years long illness. When she was a child, she was treated horribly by her grandmother and aunt. When they became sick, she helped care for them, nursing them in any way she could until they died. When my father died, she protected my sister and I from what happened until we were truly ready to learn the full story of his death - a process that took over four years. She helped care for her brother and stood by him as he battled MS. Our family has had many difficult tragedies and losses that would've broken many persons over time. She's withstood them all, guiding me, my sister, her nieces and nephew through them each step of the way. She listened when we needed to talk, held us when we needed to cry, shook us when we needed to snap out of it. I don't know how she found the strength to do it, but she has, and continues. It's rare that she needs to talk or cry about the people we've lost, but when she does, she does so with grace and without pity. It's her way of showing us how to be strong by being vulnerable when needed. And when she does, she somehow manages to do so in a way that strengthen us in the process. I don't know how she does it.
You know, now that I think about it, my mom is a teacher. Her every word, every action, her way of living is as powerful as an apple on a desk, as glowing as a star on a paper, as magical as chalk dust clouds. She's an amazing woman, a great friend, and the best mom anyone could have.
More later, after I say happy birthday and I love you to my mom.
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