The Beatles

Dear Mom,

Friday night I went with my older sister to see Classical Mystery Tour: A Tribute to The Beatles. The concert was at Powell Hall/St.Louis Symphony.

Mom, did you know I was a Beatles fan? I was too young to be one of the crazed screaming girls, but I found out during the performance that Suzanne belted out screams when she saw The Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show. Hmmm, can't picture her screaming like a maniac over four hunky guys... you know, back in the day it was a little out there... for her.

Back to The Beatles.  

Martin Herman started the show conducting a full orchestra that played short arrangements of many Beatles’ songs. One flowed right into the other. 

Then the four pretend Beatles -  Jim Owen (John Lennon), Graham Alexander (Paul McCartney), John Brosnan (George Harrison), and Chris Camilleri (Ringo Starr) walked on stage. I thought I was seeing and hearing The Beatles... down to the mannerisms and accents. Pinch me. I waited for screams.

I couldn't help but remember my own Beatles’ story. 

My kids were 5, 7, and 9 years old. We had gone to the store for something. They asked, “Mom, can we have some money?”

“For what?”

They all giggled. “We can’t tell you.”

A single parent and pretty much living at poverty level, money wasn’t something I doled out. Especially not knowing what they might be spending it on.

One of them wised up. “It’s for Mother’s Day.” 

But this was all the more reason for me not to hand over the dough.

“Pleeeease.” All three anxious faces staring at me.

“Okay.” I sighed, rolled my eyes, and handed over the precious bills, wondering what kind of junk I'd end up with.

“You can’t look!” What am I supposed to do, walk around the store with a blindfold? Somehow they pulled it off and seriously, I had no idea what they purchased.

On that Mother’s Day, Casey, Jessica and Rita huddled together and giggled as I opened my present... a poster of The Beatles. This poster...

All three shouted, “It’s The Beatles!” (DUR)

You would’ve thought The Beatles were their favorite. They jumped around like goofballs.

I had the poster framed. It hangs on the wall in my creative space. My heart skips a beat every time I look at it—and not because of The Beatles—it’s those three little stinkers I think about, their excited faces, and how they surprised me.

Listening to the pretend Beatles, I was blown away. But not near as much on the day I opened that Beatles poster.

***
Connect with me on Twitter, Facebook, and LinkedIn. Sign up for free email updates from this blog in the top right-hand corner of the page.

Momma’s Day Photo

Dear Mom,

Thought you’d like to see your granddaughters on Mother’s Day. I asked Norm to take a good picture of us. As a photographer he said it was good. If you remove me and although not the worst picture I’ve ever taken, how could I look anything but old and pale sitting next to some gorgeous girls. How cool it would have been to have you in there as well. I love photos of people where there are three and four generations.

We spent a lazy time together later in the day. One had to work and one has a bum leg and it would have been fine for them not to come over. We see each other a lot, but they wouldn’t hear of it. I told them no presents. Seriously, I need nor want anything. Okay, maybe some energy. A few less pounds, few less wrinkles. But even at that, I’m okay.

They still don’t listen and brought me some goodies. Rita made some homemade, quite delicious, cupcakes with her own creation of strawberry glaze made with real strawberries. Jessica picked up some candy from Crown Candy. When she handed me the box she said, “I know you said no presents, but I had to get this… umm… I know you’re watching what you eat, but….” And I knew there was some yummy treat inside. Most of which I ate already. I’m watching it alright—going right into my mouth!

My girls are sweeter than the treats they gave me.

Honoring Mother's Day

Dear Mom,

If you were alive, I’d make you breakfast, lunch or dinner—or all three, along with your favorite dessert. Although I don’t know what that is. I don’t think you’d be disappointed with my homemade cherry pie—and not the canned cherry pie filling kind—but real red tart cherries. Maybe I’d create you a poem that would go something like this…

For All That You Have Done

Knee pressed pedal, makes the black Singer hum
Sewing flowered dress, for the little one
Ringer washer rumbles, churning the clothes
Squeezing through rollers, water drains from hose

Hauling laundry out, drying on the line
Ironing out the wrinkles, all pressed just fine
Preparing dinner, for everyone to eat
Still not a break, to rest your weary feet

Helping kids with homework, bath, and to bed
There’s this and there’s that, no time to be read
More dishes to wash, and counters to clean
And not to mention, all the things unseen

So thank you Mom, for all that you have done
Despite your short time, I’m the lucky one.

Happy Mother's Day!