A Tribute to Sarah Silverman and My Mom (but not in that order)

I stopped watching “kids’ TV” and converted myself to a strict Comedy Central viewer around the ripe age of 10 or so.  Having an older sibling means your parents take it for granted that you already know the difference of wrong from right a little sooner than expected, and also that you don’t really need as much censoring (thanks, Ash!); therefore, I got away with a lot more.  I’d come out of my room to tell my family some insanely inappropriate joke I had just heard on TV (and probably drop some serious profanity), but then I’d tell them “it’s ok! It’s just a quote!” and they’d laugh and it worked.

About a year ago, I watched Sarah Silverman’s  HBO special “We Are Miracles” (for which she won an Emmy), and in my true fashion,  I told my mom this amazing quote I’d heard from the show, “Stop telling girls they can be anything they want when they grow up.  I think it’s a mistake. Not because they can’t, but because it would have never occurred to them they couldn’t.”  My mom laughed, and replied “isn’t THAT the truth,” in a disgustedly agreeable tone.  (here's the artwork it inspired)

I was never aware of any difference – other than anatomically – between me and a boy.  I wasn’t an overly girly or tomboyish child; I was never told “girls do this” or “boys do that.” But most importantly, I was never even told I could do anything I wanted or be whoever I wanted to be.  I just knew I could. There was never a doubt that Mom supported what I wanted to do, or that I should have any reason to think I shouldn’t.  The boys I grew up with knew I was smart, and they never challenged my abilities or intellect; in fact, most of them admired it.  It honestly wasn’t until college and adulthood when I experienced it on my own and figured out boys could be nasty and try to make me feel I was somehow inferior because I was a girl or because I wasn’t an engineer (never mind I could derive calculus in circles around their asses).  I’m glad my mom didn’t try to warn me about these [dudes].  They were meant to be foreign to me, just as the audacious concept of “you can’t because you’re a girl.” 

Mom is a doer.  When she visits, she can only sit still for like 10 minutes before she says “what can I help you do? Do you have laundry? Do I need to wash bottles? Need any groceries?  What about yard work?” LIKE NO MA, LET’S JUST SIT STILL AND ENJOY EACH OTHER’S COMPANY BUT IF YOU’RE REALLY ASKING THEN YESSS! THERE ARE SO MANY BOTTLES AND GROCERIES AND WANNA PULL SOME WEEDS? OH GREAT, YOU EVEN THOUGHT AHEAD AND BROUGHT AN EXTRA PAIR OF GARDENING GLOVES AND STYROFOAM CUPS WITH LIDS AND STRAWS SO YOU CAN TAKE A LEMONADE OUTSIDE?! GEEEEEEEES STOP BEING SO THOUGHTFUL! (I use all caps to express my enormous appreciation because even though Mom is always so helpful, it still amazes me how truly selfless and prepared she is.  Occasionally I see it coming through in my own habits, but nowhere near Threat Level Ma. Perhaps with time…)

Everyone who knows my mom knows that she’s a strong lady, but to attempt describe her contagious positive attitude, generosity, strength, professionalism, devotion, resilience, and unconditional support and love would just be insane.  It’s book-worthy, really.  We’ve even picked out a title and a photo for the book cover and it’s called “You Can’t Make This Sh*t Up,” but that’s for another day; however, here would be some chapter titles:

• Epic Birthday Parties (Magicians, Survivor Theme, Professional Sporting Games, Limo Rides)
• Treat Bags: Any Occasion, All-Encompassing, Delightful and Surprising
• We Don’t Say “Shut Up”
• If My Daughters Really Need Something, I Only Know They’re Serious if They Perform it in Song or Dance
• The Ninja Disciplinarian: How Ashley got in Trouble in 1996 but Didn’t Tell Hayden Until 2014
• That Time She Saved a Life Instead of Letting it Waste Away on the Floor
• Play the Game. Be the [Ball/Test/Deadline]
• The Broken Child: Hayden’s Year of a Broken Foot, Mono, and 2 Jaw Surgeries
• June 2010: 4 Moves. One Month. One Ma.
• Catfish
• No Seriously, Mom’s Other Car is A U-Haul (it).

I love you, Ma.

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A Bird's Life

Martha loved birds.  Her upward-sloping backyard provided the perfect view to bird watch from the french doors in the kitchen.  I probably knew way more about birds than the average six-year old, and any gift to Martha was typically hummingbird or nature-themed.

We spent the last two years of her life reminiscing and enjoying our limited time with her.  Each time we visited, she seemed to have sentimental gifts for us- a piece of china from her wedding gifts that matched our décor, a 1950’s Clemson doll for the baby we were expecting, an old medical dictionary. At my last visit with her a month before she passed away, she gave me a stack of my old drawings she had kept in her bible.  Even though she often retrieved these drawings to show off, I didn’t expect her to give them to me, but I am so glad she did. Dated July 1992 (which meant I was 4 years old), was a series of drawings I made representing a bird’s life.  Martha and I talked a lot about birds, so naturally, I wanted her to know that I understood the concept of mama bird building a nest and laying eggs, feeding her new baby birds, teaching them to fly, and watching them leave the nest. Drawn on 4 separate sheets of note pad with what could only be the most basic of ballpoint pens, my four-year-old self created an art piece that I would replicate for my own child's bedroom. 

With an old piece of particle board, fabric, paper, and a marker, I re-drew these birds in the exact four-year-old fashion and fixed them to my fabric-covered board.  I painted Martha’s prayer, and now this hangs above Ellis’s rocker.  These simple drawings impacted Martha’s life, and now that I have a daughter of my own, I understand not only the importance of teaching her about family and nature, but also the sentiment of treasuring her talents and sharing them with the world so she knows just how loved she is.  I cannot wait to see what sparks her imagination and gets her mind racing (at the moment, it’s putting things in and out of containers and petting the dog, but she’s damn good at it).

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