Mother's Day Memories

 

"There she is; beautiful, emphatic, with her familiar phrase and her laugh ... lighting our random lives as with a burning torch, infinitely noble and delightful to her children."

                                                Virginia Woolf,  Moments of Being

 

 

                                                      Row 4.   Veterans Field.    June, 2010.


   When it comes to baseball, my mom has never been a season ticket holder, nor has she ever set her heart on one single team, as I recall.  Maybe it’s because she gravitated toward football early on, during that magical time of life when games begin to take hold of a person.   As the very pretty drum majorette at her small town high school, she was the one who got to lead the marching band and football teams on Saturday mornings in autumn, pumping that baton and smiling her way up Arnold Avenue before every varsity home game.

My mom can probably count on one hand the total number of major-league baseball games she has attended in her lifetime.   And yet, she’ll gladly keep us company whenever we’re watching baseball, whether on television or at any random field.   She showed up at her twin grandsons’ Little League practice just last Friday.  She shows up.  She happily sits on the uncomfortable aluminum bleachers at Veterans Field for nine straight innings, because that’s where her kids and grandkids gather almost every night in summer.   She shows up, happy just to be with us wherever we are.    She simply wants to be with us.

Baseball may not be her favorite thing in life, but for many years she has smiled upon my deep and abiding love of the game, wise in understanding the joys and disappointments it has thrown my way, both in childhood and in recent years.

My mother is a loyal reader of this blog.   She looks forward to every new post; she praises the specifics of many pieces; she urges me to keep going at times when I’m inclined to give up.   My mom is always in the stands.   Mom, thank you very much for being such a supportive fan.  I’m so glad you understand why baseball is important to me, and I love you.   

I’ve been a mom for almost twenty-five years, and I learned from the best.   Today, thankfully, my heart is full of Mother’s Day memories.    For me, it’s not about the greeting card, the present, a bouquet of flowers, breakfast in bed, or the fancy cologne I mentioned in my previous post – and I don’t think it ever was for my mom either.   It’s never been about presents or what others ought to be doing for me.   

I never viewed the holiday as an opportunity to take a break from my three kids or as a reason to enjoy a day “off,” simply because I had supposedly worked so hard and it was high time for me to receive a little recognition.    That’s just not me. 

Mother’s Day is when I celebrate the fact that I have children in my life.   I feel so blessed and privileged to be a mom.  For all these years, I’ve enjoyed one of the most important forms of work that any human being can ever do.    On Mother’s Day I don’t want presents.   I just want to celebrate my children, dwell in the idea of them whether they are  home or far away, because they are the gift.  I simply want to be with them.

About ten years ago my youngest child brought home from kindergarten his very special Mother’s Day surprise.   He was so proud of the tiny 2" hand-painted terra cotta pot that contained one small marigold plant, and especially pleased with the personal message he had penned in a circle of primary colors around the flowerpot:   “I love baseball and I love you!”    In permanent ink.

He was devastated, however, because the lone flower had begun to die, and to tell you the truth, it was a puny and sorry sight.   The bright yellow blossom had turned a dull brown; it was all shriveled up and only getting worse.   My son was sad and embarrassed upon realizing that he had given me a dead thing for Mother’s Day – that is, until I showed him how we could just pinch away that dead blossom, lightly water the plant, and wait patiently for new growth to emerge from tiny buds he hadn’t even noticed.  See, there they are – look at them!  Those buds would soon open so beautifully, and our flower would stay healthy and alive if we continued to pinch the dead stuff away and nurture the rest.  

I love baseball and I love you!    I was so happy and so pleased that my boy thought to mention me in the same sentence as the game of baseball.

More and more I hear evidence to support my longtime belief that baseball isn’t just fathers playing catch with sons.    Moms matter too, more importantly than most baseball writers have ever sought to put into words. I’m struck by the fact that many baseball fans have memories of a mother who was once present in deeply significant ways - and not just in the laundry room or in a folding chair - when they first felt a love of baseball.  A mother's presence (or absence) makes a difference in ways that are worth pondering.    For whatever reasons, maybe because of this holiday, lots of people have been talking about their moms and baseball.  Grandmothers too.   Those poignant memories are amusing, sad, endearing, and very important.

I feel so fortunate that I can share baseball with my mom and with my three children.  The game has often bound us together even as other things split apart.  Many of our best moments have happened because of baseball.    But we are not the only ones.

Tell me about your mom.    Tell me the story of your mom and baseball and your love of the game.   Please tell me your stories.  I’ve told you quite a few of mine.   I would love to hear your stories.

 

                               Bullpen.   Camden Yards.   September 2, 2001

 

Comments

[Pmccubbin]

Beautiful piece of writing. It inspired me to post my own memory of my Mom and Baseball on

rhs1977.blogspot.com.

Thanks.

[Bob from VA]

My mom was a huge Red Sox fan but never got to see them win the WS. My kids saw it happen when they were three months old.

[Bill Lewers]

Although my dad was my primary baseball mentor, I would occasionally attend a game with my mom as well. One such occasion was a Red Sox-Yankee game at Yankee Stadium. I believe the year was 1963. We took turns using our one set of binoculars to zero in on the area of the batting cage where the Red Sox hitters were taking batting practice.

“Who is number eleven?” my mother asked.

“That would be Frank Malzone.”, I responded.

I then proceeded to reflect on his batting average, number of homeruns hit, number of All-Star games appeared in, as well as that in my completely unbiased opinion he, rather than Brooks Robinson, was the best third baseman in the American League.

My mother said quietly,

“He has a kind face.”

…and to this day what I remember most about Frank Malzone is that my mom thought he had a “kind face”.

[wendy]

Thank you for reminding me what MOTHERS DAY is REALLY all about....your words always help to keep me grounded and to remember what is truly important! Happy Moms Day to one of the finest moms I have ever known.

[watching the game]

ditto, and all my best.

[Susan]

Judy- What a wonderful, and oh so genuine tribute to our Mom! Yes, she has always been there-- and has invariably been gracious in attending games with us because it's exactly where WE want to be; ever the selfless mother, she is content just to be with us all. Thank you for phrasing so aptly how truly amazing she is. We were so very fortunate to grow up with her-- and with baseball, too! I remember her attending every softball game I ever played. And I will always treasure how excited she was to watch my son play Little League, camera in hand, pressed against the chain-link backstop!
And accolades to you for being an exceptional Mom who has raised three fine children-- and has loved every minute of it!
Love, Susan

[watching the game]

@ Bill: It's great to hear from you again! This story about your mom and a shared set of binoculars rings so true. The moment is vividly and beautifully captured. I very much enjoy her special take on the game and the poignant way in which it now enhances your own. Thank you!

[watching the game]

@Bob from VA: So sorry to hear your mom missed the long-awaited victory of 2004, but glad you could enjoy it with your kids. There's something truly special about sharing the game with a 3-month-old child - I got to do that in '86. Twirled my baby round and round the room! (I was a Mets fan at the time, sorry to say.)

[churchill car insurance]

It is a nice mother's day memories. I am staying at New Jersey and my mother living at Washington DC. So I always mis my mother so much. But we always celebrates Mother's day together.

[James Bailey]

My mom took me to a Mariners game on Mother's Day back around 1980 or 81, I think. It may have been the only baseball game she ever took me to. I think they gave out little pocket mirrors to all the moms. The outfield cheap seats where we sat were crammed with kids, who were probably a bit louder than my mom enjoys, but she endured it.

She took me to a University of Washington football game once, too. I still remember her buying a cup of coffee to keep her hands warm, even though she doesn't drink coffee.

We had her and my wife's parents over for a cookout last night, and had quite a nice Mother's Day celebration.

[watching the game]

Pocket mirrors - ha, that's a good one. My sister Susan (see above) and family are huge Mariners fans, dating back to mid-80s. We'll have to meet up at Safeco sometime. Garlic fries, yum. Best to you and your mom, your wife et al, and Go Huskies!

[Criminal Lawyers QLD]

We all know that no one can take place of our mother. Mother's day is a wonderful moment for every mother's of the earth. Every year I celebrates mother's day with my mother.