Mother’s Amusement

Spring trees flowering

She’d call me into the parlor

to come and sit by her side

I always knew what she wanted

the joy that came from her pride


Mother alone possessed the keys

caught off-guard by her fingers

Chopsticks, I’d play beside her knees

Still the memory lingers


We sang a song by The Beatles

those insects with many hands

She said The Band had just arrived

they’d come to invade our lands


Music would roll from whence we played

I feigned to sing harmony

We rocked the clock; in time we stayed

The Stones were too old for me!

Out our front door

Uncle Tree

“Happy Mother’s Day!”

♫ ♪ ♫


23 thoughts on “Mother’s Amusement

  1. What marvelous memories of your mother. I loved this very much. May I share mine?

    My Mother’s Hands

    © 2018 Barbara Grace Lake

    So downy soft with tender care
    Returned a nestling to its tree
    To see the worried mother bird
    Fly home to nurture, help it grow

    As gently lifting me
    From cradle to her breast
    To suckle till I fell asleep
    And dream warm baby dreams

    Accepting, loving, strong
    How able as I grew
    At shushing tears as anger burst
    Or bandaging a knee

    Black garden dirt they wore with pride
    Ingrained in every crease
    But rainbow blossoms graced our home
    The gift her hands displayed

    Long years they spent in usefulness
    Till gnarled, blue veined in age
    Still soft and loving, loved as her,
    My Mother’s hands

  2. What a wonderful tribute to your dear Mom Uncle Tree. Such nice memories. I love black and white photos and I’m guessing this is your parents on their wedding day? The photos in the neighborhood have an unusual sky – was a storm brewing here? Love the line about the Stones … ha, ha – I think the Stones were born old, but they’re still kickin’.

  3. Thank you, Linda! 🙂 Glad you liked.

    Yes! Those are my grandparent and my parents on their wedding day in 1953.
    I had to sneak that one in there just to pay tribute, and give me some peace of mind.

    The other pictures are a view you don’t often see — out our front door.
    The sun was setting, and the light was glorious; more so than the shots show.
    I found it a bit ironic. The prettiest place to park in the neighborhood
    was by the “STOP!” sign, but of course, “NO PARKING!” allowed there. Go figure.

    The poem is from 2009, and as much as I try knot to repeat myself.
    I “re-posted” it, and only changed two words. Glad you liked it.

    My mom’s been comatose for the last 6 months, so it’s been a tough week.
    In my mind’s spiritual eye, she’s already with Dad and the whole of my ancestors.
    I can’t live with myself and imagine it any other way. ❤ Peace and luvz, UT

  4. My parents were married in 1953 as well.

    I have often said that the camera was one of the best inventions ever made, because, without it, how would we ever hope to know our ancestors, or see our kin who were around long before our time? We tend to think of our parents as always being the same age, never as newlyweds, or any other way, except how we remember them as we know them.

    In digitizing my photo album last year, I looked at every single photo, and recalled stories about people, places and things – I could never have sorted those images out in my mind alone … I had to have photographs to do so.

    The light is really unusual in that picture and I thought it was a storm brewing, but now I know it was just the sun getting ready to set and some incredible lighting.

    It’s okay to repeat yourself sometimes – it is your mom after all. We have commented to one another in the past that sometimes you write a post and it sticks in your mind and you want to share it again and again, whether its funny or just a special memory about a special someone.

    I’m very sorry to hear about your mom and that is really tough to get through. You are right to picture your Mom in a better place, with Dad and the rest of your ancestors, and not as you see her now.

    That is how I try to picture my mom because she left me rather quickly … she had been confined to bed the last four months, then the pain in her side made me call for an ambulance – against her wishes, but she not lucid when I called and did not recognize me. That hurt as I know it hurts you now.

    I share your pain from afar … you only have one mother. She gave you life. You owe her the world.

    You’ve made me mist up a little.

  5. Thank you for the comforting thoughts, Linda,
    and thank you for understanding. It seems so unfair.
    “Lord, have mercy. Finality for one would help finality for all.” Amen.

  6. It is unfair – you have my sympathies. I hope she is not in pain. My friend Evelyn’s mother had a brain aneurysm in November 2016 — one minute she was healthy and living in an assisted living facility (by her own choosing … she sold her house after her husband died and moved her belongings there). She enjoyed her friends that lived there, had hobbies and socialized with them (it was a huge place), then she had the aneurysm. She lingered for weeks in a coma, and then finally her family abided by the DNR order in place and let her go as there was no hope for recovery and there would be brain damage. I likewise abided by my mom’s DNR order – Marge accompanied me to the E.R. as she was not just a friend, but our (my mom/me) medical power of attorney (as is my boss, but Marge was second in place in his absence). We needed this since there were no family members for us – (we had to have a proxy in case we were in an accident together). I was told my mom only had hours to live as she had sepsis, unless I permitted surgery after a massive dose of antibiotics, and then she would likely only live a week. I did not opt for surgery and it wasn’t advised. Life deals dirty tricks sometimes.

  7. I’d say you did the right thing, and the most humane thing, Linda.

    My mom’s name is Evelyn. Weird, huh? Not a very popular name anymore.

    She has a DNR order in place. I guess, one needs a separate order for “no brain activity”, if there is such a thing. I’ve done neither, myself, although, I know I probably should.

    Perhaps, Kevorkian had the right idea after all. I mean, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity at the end of one’s story ought to be a human right. Seriously, I wouldn’t want my kids and family to see me, or remember me like that.

    My mom is down in Sedalia, Mo. I haven’t been down there since this happened. Neither, have my two brothers. We’re just waiting for the dirty trick to be over. Shame is a dirty word, but I don’t see how it applies in our case.

    My parents got divorced in 1998. Long story…and not appropriate here, but another dirty word, “resentment”, definitely comes into play, to be honest.

    Spilling is therapeutic, and I thank you for listening. Sincerely, Keith

  8. You’re right Keith .. Evelyn is not a common name. My godmother’s name was Evelyn – I’ve never met her and I don’t know if she is alive anymore, but she was a childhood friend of my mom’s and was chosen to raise me if something happened to my parents.

    I never went to see my mom when they removed her from the E.R. to a hospital room. Marge went up to see her and kissed her forehead. I could not go. Everything happened rather fast … sometimes I regret not going there to say goodbye, but then I have reconciled in my mind that I don’t want to remember my mom all hooked up to machines. The last nine months of her life were h*llish enough and I was there to witness the decline, the pain. It is better you remember your mom as you last saw her – not this way and no apologies are needed by you or your two brothers for not going there.

    I think I told you about my parents’ divorce before … father ran off with all the money in the bank and annuities and fled the country when she was 58. I was still living at home and just stayed there and supported us both until she could collect social security. Not a nice story and I have been in touch with a genealogist in the past few months to track him down – he is 91, living in Germany, probably healthy. I wanted peace of mind that he was gone, but I have to wait longer for that. The fact that I never mention him in my conversations with people, nor my blog speaks volumes of how I feel toward him.

    We had our medical directives done after my father left. Our attorney was to act on our behalf for everything (medical, power of attorney) should we have perished together. Our attorney was appointed to be a district court judge and could not have private practice anymore and his files were given to another attorney in a different office. That attorney said our paperwork had to be redone in lieu of the recent (at that time) Terry Schiavo case (she languished 15 years after lapsing into a coma after falling on the floor in 1990 – her parents/family did not want her removed from life support; husband did and 15 years later, and after a long court battle, she was removed from life support). We had our paperwork redone – hopefully it encompasses everything. I have to find a second person if my boss is not available … it is not something you ask someone to do casually – Marge was a little reluctant to be 2nd contact person and to have to make a life/death decision but did so as we had no other family members. Robb is 9 years older than me … I kind of have a dilemma as well, but, like you, will sort it out someday. In the meantime, I’ll be like Scarlett O’Hara and think about it tomorrow.

    I believed in Dr. Kevorkian – I believe it is your life, and your wishes should be respected and you should not have to be like Brittany Maynard, the woman with the brain tumor who went to live in another state to be allowed to choose her time of death and eliminate her pain and suffering. Dr. Kevorkian should never have spent time in jail – those people knew what they wanted, so they went to him.

    Spilling is therapeutic … you listen to me as well.

  9. Informative and supportive thoughts, my friend.
    Thank you for sharing the love and grimaces!

    The weather is looking up. Hope you have a fine walk today. Cheerz, UT

  10. You’re so welcome Uncle Tree. The weather is looking better starting tomorrow – we had our last day of rain. They said we had 5 inches of rain since Friday, rain every day for 7 days. Enough of this soggy weather!

  11. I just love the old black and white images .. I have a glory box full of them. How I love hauling them out and gazing at yesteryear and wondering. This image of your parents is so special. What lovely memories you have. Thank you so much for sharing ..

  12. You’re welcome, Julie. 🙂 Thank you so much for liking!
    Glory boxes? LoL 🙂 I didn’t know they had a special name.
    Of course, I have one, and then I inherited my parents.

    For the most part, I don’t think anyone would be interested in them.
    Their entertainment value is basically personal,
    and I value my imagined notoriety and fame here in Blogsville. Cheerz, UT

  13. Sounds like a familiar refrain! Little Roger on the piano practicing, with little brother Walter, hanging his teeth on baby grand. Those little teeth marks the spot, where Mom can in to say, “Please don’t eat my piano”…just talked that little kid now 35, who taught himself how to play guitar, and gave me chords, to create a song…and that was long ago…with Great and Marvelous ideas of how to enjoy kids…Thank you!

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