3 years Ago
My mom was a middle school math teacher for 40 years. Her students called her “Mama Lynch.” She was tough, but fair, and was very much the kind of teacher older kids were delighted to greet in the supermarket, or the bank, many years after being in her class. My mom was generous, compassionate, loyal. She was a friend to people in a way that many are not capable.
I grew up in the days when you could leave your kids in the car while you ran into the store, and when my mom did that, my brother and I turned every knob and lever in the car up to Level 10. When she put the keys in the ignition, the radio would blare, the windshield wipers would flail, the heat would blast…and she allowed herself to fall for it many, many times.
My mother devoted everything to my brother and me. She got her Master’s Degree at the dining room table, after seeing to us first. She was the Den Mother, the Soccer Mom, the CCD Teacher – you name it, she was there, ready for duty, hyper-involved, proud as hell no matter what the outcome.
She was Old School Italian, and our being boys only heightened, I think, her belief that we were the two most important, talented, handsome dudes on the planet. If she could have, she would have frozen us in time at around age 7, dressed impeccably in proper shoes, not “sneakers” (only allowed on “gym days”). Why wouldn’t she want to hold onto us as boys? Boys are always around, and they’re cute, and for a while you’re the center of their universe. I have a seven-year-old now, and I know I’ll be heartbroken when he decides to move to New York, or wherever, in 10 or 20 years. I’ll take every hug, every morning snuggle, every “I love you” and put it in the bank as my hedge against the days when he doesn’t call for two weeks. I’ll try to be as strong, as understanding, as supportive, and as generous as my Mom was – a tall order by any measure.
If I can get close to her example, I’ll consider it a success. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. Love, David.