I suppose it's highly unusual, but as Mother's Day
approaches, I am constantly thinking of my father.
I've always said, my mother was my father and my
father was my mother. Strange as that may sound,
I like that I recognize this! Having a special brother,
my parents decided at a very young age that mom
would deal primarily with my brother and dad with
me. It was a matter of practicality as the family was
very united, per se.
Still, on the eve of Mother's Day, as it were, I find
myself engrossed in memories of yesteryear. What
an amazing mother my father was! Dad was the
true eccentric in the family. He accepted me as I
was and encouraged me to be myself and never
look back. He always said that I got to be as weird
as I wanted to be and the right people would want
to be my friends. Such an amazing insight in a
world of cookie cutter debutants and their followers.
I look at the differences . . . mom and bro, inside.
Dad 'n ld, outside. Mom, car, dad and me pickup.
Mom, picnics . . . dad and me, camping. Mom,
dress up, dad and me . . . weird combos or not at
all. Obviously, I could go on, but not necessary.
Every single day, I give thanks that my dad taught
me to think outside the box, dress my own way,
follow no crowd and throw out the cookie cutters.
Happy Mother's Day, dad! You will always be my
hero!
a mother is born
mom by any other name
all shapes and sizes
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