In honor of my mother's death date anniversary, I thought I would rerun my Mother's Day post, mostly to remind myself of her character because . . .
Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast,
hull and spar as she was when she left my side.
And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me -- not in her.
--Henry Van Dyke
My mother taught me several life lessons. She was a bit quirky and neurotic, qualities that I inherited in abundance. But she was always genuine. My mother had a knack for boiling life down to simple truths. Here are my mother’s top ten rules for a content and happy life.
Life Rule #1: Don’t buy anything that hasn’t been around for at least a few decades.
My mother shunned certain products that she perceived as "new." These things ranged from oral contraceptives to tampons to soft contact lenses.
"They haven't stood the test of time yet. We don't know what the side effects will be in the long run," my mother said. Then she would add, "I guess you can try using them . . . if you want . . ."
(Most of the time, I did.)
Life Rule #2: Churches should have one rule for its members. Be kind to everyone.
This life rule appeared around the time my father, a Baptist minister, had a few bad experiences with troubled congregations.
"You can believe whatever you want. Just be nice to people for goodness sakes!"
Life Rule #3: If you start feeling sorry for yourself, volunteer!
During my awkward teen years, whenever I started complaining about my weight, my looks, or my unpopularity, my mother would send me off to do community service. Case in point: One Christmas, I spent my winter break wrapping gifts for the Salvation Army.
"That will teach you to feel sorry for yourself," she told me.
Life Rule #4: Ice cream makes menstruation better.
My mother swore that ice cream relieved menstrual cramps. She would buy me Mickey Mouse ice cream bars, the kind with the chocolate ears, from the ice cream truck that passed by our house during the summer. To this day, I still believe in the power of ice cream during that time of the month.
Life Rule #5: No more jeans after age fifty.
My mother quit wearing jeans in her fifties.
"I've come to the conclusion that, after a certain age, you should only wear comfortable clothes."
She only wore knit pants, sometimes knit shorts in the summer. She would buy the same style in every color of the rainbow.
Life Rule #6: Before eating chicken sandwiches at fast food restaurants, one should remove the breading and mayo with a napkin.
Yes, my mother did this every time she ordered something fried—probably a smart move. I became a vegetarian during my adult years though, so I don’t worry about this life rule much anymore.
Life Rule #7: Educated people should subscribe to newspapers.
Maybe this one had to do with job security. My mother was a journalist at the local paper. But it stuck. The first thing I did after graduating from college and landing a job with a steady income was subscribe to the local newspaper. When I started dating my (future) husband, he thought I was nuts.
"Why do you need a newspaper when you can read everything online?"
"Daniel," I replied, using his full name to illustrate my level of sophistication, "educated people subscribe to newspapers. You want to be intelligent, don't you?"
Now we both read the newspaper every morning.
Life Rule #8: Wearing a bike helmet means he will use protection at other times in his life.
My mother told me this when I was fifteen years old. I had just pointed out my crush from my safe distance in the front seat of the family minivan. The boy had ridden past us on his bike and into a church parking lot where he had stopped to talk to some friends.
"Good. He's wearing a helmet," my mom said.
"Why is that so important?"
"It means he will use protection during other . . . activities."
I gave my mother an incredulous look, "Are you talking about—?" I stopped. I didn’t want to know.
Life Rule #9: There is a lot of sadness in this world.
My mother would sigh and say this if someone (mostly me) was whining about trivial (often times, teenage-related) problems. But sometimes she was sincere about this statement, like when she saw injustice or tragedy happening in the world.
When my mother died of cancer at age fifty-seven, I realized that there is, indeed, a lot of sadness in this world.
Life Rule #10: But always be funny.
Just because there is sadness in this world, it doesn’t give you an excuse not to be funny . . . always.
My mother had this milk carton with an eye pasted on it. It was a half-gallon that had been in our fridge forever, way past its expiration date but, for some reason, never went bad. After it was empty, my mother called it, "The Milk That Won't Go Bad," and she hid it in different nooks and crannies around the house. When my brother or I would stumble upon the one-eyed carton, she cackled, "It's Zuh Miiilk Zat Von’t Go Bad!"
Then there was the time she won a journalism award at a banquet. She came home and twirled around the living room, holding her award, while I sang "I Could Have Danced All Night" at the top of my lungs.
That's how I like to remember my mother, practicing the most important life rule of all.
Just live your life.
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