Mother of Exiles

Saturday morning I set out early. It was a day of 'exotic' beauty: devoid of sunshine and unseasonably cool. Craving nature, I went to my neighborhood park with the lagoon and concentric track to breathe deeply and 'sort'. Few people come out on mornings like this. But, as nature is the artist, one is free to choose whether or not to come to the exhibit.

The cloud cover was resplendent. I remember thinking it looked like 'cascading folds of gray brain matter' across the entire sky. Uniformly. I hopped aboard a creative flight of fancy and pretended I was under a dome. There was serious breeze with 'it-really-is-windy' gusts that you would have thought would have altered the cloud cover, if in fact, not blown all out of the sun's way. So; windy, cold, 'dome-y', and isolated.

I had started my tall, dark, Caribou coffee earlier in the coffee shop over the Saturday paper and read about how the Park Service in New York City was reopening the Statue of Liberty's crown to the public for the first time since 9/11. And that day will have been the 4th of July this year. I folded up that thought for further reflection, for the walking laps that are my habit once I have my coffee in hand.

I thought as I walked 'we are going to be able to get inside Her head again', and see if her thoughts on liberty have changed. Eight years is a long time to spend analyzing. By the passage of so much time, and the hurt inflicted on our national psyche, what would the symbol of our United States feel about the inscription on her bronze plaque if she were to come to life and tell us?

The most memorable lines of the inscription, a poem written by Emma Lazarus, reads '. . .give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free . . .' Those on watch since 9/11 have raised our awareness of modern day threats to our liberty and freedom, and enacted measures of precaution to deal with future assaults. Are those people from other countries who do not yet breathe freely still welcome on our shores?

I believe, as she is referred to in the poem as 'The Mother of Exiles', she still wants those willing to work hard and contribute to the mosaic of our society. Her thoughts and wishes are that we must be more vigilant about who we allow in and more active in protecting our way of life, rather than assume someone else will do it for us. Taking poetic license, as she now sees things in clearer perspective eight years later, let all freedom loving Americans strive to do the same.

Mother's Day Reflections

This Sunday will be the second Sunday in May, and we Americans will again celebrate it as Mother's Day: an observance we have kept since President Woodrow Wilson dedicated it as such in 1914.

The ancient Greeks are known to have celebrated the honor of Rhea, mother to all their gods. Early Christians set aside the fourth Sunday in the liturgical season of Lent to honor Mary, the Mother of Jesus. The observance was later expanded to include all mothers and is now celebrated on the above mentioned date in countries such as Denmark, Finland, Belgium, Italy, Turkey, and Australia.

As we quietly reflect on the relationship we have had with our individual mothers, remember that motherhood is a role that women accept that makes human life possible. How well they do in that role depends on a lot of factors: did they come from loving families, are they single moms who have to provide as well as nurture, do they have a good domestic situation providing help and support, are they emotionally secure to meet the constant demands of motherhood? The reflections we devote to our mothers can be nothing but unique. But there are certain common elements that do bind our experiences.

The ability to naturally conceive children occurs according to an 'circadian rhythm' of life, called the child bearing years. It often coincides with the youthful bloom of life, and quite often, as an act of love. It is no accident that the celebration of motherhood occurs during the Spring cycle, season of (re)birth. The season where Hope 'springs' eternal,; the wishes a mom has for her child to grow well and prosper. Fruit of the womb; fruits of 'one's labor'; metaphors celebrating the vital role moms play abound.

As humankind are mammals, human mothers provide nurturing, instill our appreciation for and actual need of human touch. Moms provide that interconnectedness where we celebrate the joy of touch in hugging, shaking hands, and kissing one another to greet, console, and express affection and intimacy.

My mom gave ME a mother's day present a few years back when she was in her mid 70's: a wallet-sized, black and white portrait she had taken when she was 21 years old. Fittingly, the photo is in mint condition. It is of an era I can never have experienced, but her youthful beauty captured in that photograph gave me a profound appreciation for who she was and who she became. I see the young girl full of hopes and dreams for the future that lie ahead; these days I see that young girl as having reached the age of reflection and satisfaction in the life choices she made.

Happy 54th Mother's Day Mom. I've been a lucky son.