My Halloween Mom

My mother was born on Halloween in 1932 and has gone by the moniker, “Winkie” for 77 years today. She is now a bit of a ghost of her former self as the cruel tricks of birthday cosmology play out.  She used to joke about her holiday family.  I was born on Saint Patrick’s Day.  My brother’s birthday sometimes falls on Memorial Day.  Birthdays were always exciting, especially hers.  Of all the things that still excite her the most, it is the little children, kids of all sizes, shapes, and colors.  She likes the smallest the best.

So when the mobs of goblins, ballerinas, cowboys and princesses descended on our front porch like so many ants to the honey jar, she was in her glory.  There was no better birthday present for her to be able to ooh and aahh over her precious costumed hoards.  My brother and I liked it too, we got the leftovers.

She was a stay at home mom, as were most mom’s in our neighborhood. That was pretty typical for the fifties and sixties, at least where I grew up.

So she would roust us from our beds on school days, a pop tart at the ready. She was a marvelous cook but at 6:15 a.m. all I was interested in was a Kellogg’s frosted blueberry pop tart.

She was there in the afternoons when we came home, apples in the fridge, the occasional cookie.  She had a knack for knowing just how much space to give her teenage and pre-teen sons.  Not an easy task. She had dinner on the table when my dad came home from work.  She even had a deal for us.  So long as we would at least try something new, we would not be required to eat it all. This worked out great for such taste treats as brussels sprout and cauliflower.

She claimed that as a youngster her mom forced her to clean her plate no matter what.  I queried my grandmother about this once but never really got a straight answer.  I think mom’s sneaky strategy worked because there really isn’t anything I can’t eat and I’m willing to try anything…once.

My brother and I went off to school leaving only my father for her to care for.  We both moved out of state for our careers returning home once a year or so, sometimes for holidays, sometimes not.

But I know that she was proud of us, having on more than one occasion telling us she raised us right. I think she did just that.

Happy #77 mom!

Love, Patrick