10. You weren’t a daring cook (a depression child, you couldn’t bring yourself to spend money on luxuries), but you had interesting tastes. You loved blue cheese, olives, and mushrooms. Thanks to you, I do too.
9. You weren’t afraid to make The Ask. Remember helping me sell all those cases of World’s Finest Chocolate-Covered Almonds for the school fundraiser? You went with me, insisted that “No” was only a pause in the sales pitch. I won the grand prize one year—the coveted banana-seat bicycle. Although I’m not quite as brave, I learned enough from you to be our family’s chief negotiator.
8. You’re the family storyteller. If it weren’t for your litany of family tales, many by now would be lost. You know me—I chase the future. But you remind me that past is prologue. I want to tell the stories too.
7. You always find a way to get what you want. Although we have different styles, you taught me how to be doggedly persistent.
6 You felt my pain. I know how to handle mean girls now, but not when I was six. You came to my rescue more than once back then. Girls need that. Thank you.
5. You always got me what I needed. Whether it was an algebra tutor in 9th grade or an early morning steak before my swim meet, you made sure I was covered.
4. Speaking of swim meets—even though I was like Ben Stiller in Meet the Fockers with his 8th place ribbons, you cheered me on as if I were the star swimmer or the best at bat. Thanks for that.
3. You managed to push me without pressure. I never felt stressed to succeed.
2. At nearly 86 you still walk most every morning. Your example helped me start running… and keep running. I hope I’m still at it at 86.
1. OK, so you were a tad overprotective. (Who could blame you? I was your only child and you waited ten years for me.) But in the kitchen you let me do my thing. How else can I explain why I could cut up and fry a chicken by the time I was twelve?
In your honor, here’s my crab cake recipe, the one you always want me to make when you visit. Can’t wait to make them for you again soon.
Love you the mostest, Mom
Reading this made my face, and my heart, smile.
Mom, I hope I learn half of these things from you by the time I become a mother. I think I’ve got a few things down (including being doggedly persistent!) What a wonderful tribute to granny – and such a beautiful photo of her. Hard to believe she’s mid-80s and has been battling cancer for so many years. She’s an inspiration!
Sniff! What a lovely lady. I suppose I should have written about my Mother this weekend. Oh well. You did a nice job of it, and you’ve given me an idea for next year! Cheers to such a wonderful Mom you have!
What a sweet post. Happy Mother’s Day, Pam and Pam’s mom!
Made my heart smile too. Happy Mother’s Day, Pam — love threemanycooks!
Simply lovely, Pam.
So sweet–thank you for sharing!
What a lovely post…and a lovely picture.
Happy mothers day!
Ok I can’t help it- I am crying. That was a really beautiful tribute to your beautiful mom!
Love your eggs benedict recipe. Have facebooked you ladies to spread the word. Thanks heaps. Swiss food is really bland. This is exactly what they need over here. Some spice in their life.
Rob
Wow, what a great picture, visually and in words, of your mother. Very sweet. Now we know where that fierce determination comes from. Happy Mothers Day to you and your mother.
Dear Pam,
I lost my mom about 7 mos ago so Mother’s Day was more than a little challenging. So it was with a little trepidation that I read your “ode” to your mom. So glad I did. It made me smile and remember some funny & sweet memories of my mom. She was 91 and she was quite a pistol. Bet you’re mom is one, too. Thanks again
Thank you for the beautiful, sweet feelings you expressed. I lost my mom suddenly at the age 26, and I miss her still. It has been 25 years and there is not a week goes by that I wish I could talk to her and tell her so many of the things you said, most of all “thank you” for all that she did in being a mom.