Alan Weiss’s Monday Morning Memo® – 05/09/2022
I wished people a happy Mothers Day yesterday, boldly not caring if someone, somewhere were offended. Mothers Day turns out to be the single best day for the restaurant business and Hallmark Cards, I’m told. I don’t care about “identity” or social constructs or anything else, we’ve all had a mother without whom, well, I’m not writing this and you’re not reading it.
My mother warned me of the dangers of life: not to run with a sharp stick or I’d poke my eye out; not to go into the water within one hour of lunch or I’d cramp and drown; not to play in the street (we had no place else to play). But she also warned me, seriatim, about yellow snow, men following me home from school, and hanging out with the wrong crowd.
She always had dinner on the table, had to work for us to make ends barely and not always meet (very rare in those days), qualfied for a driver’s license but never drove once after passing the test (it was for “emergencies”), and was always dressed, with full makeup, and heels when she ventured outside even to go grocery shopping or take me to the doctor. And she probably prevented my death by my father’s hands after a couple of fender-benders for which we were not insured.
And today my daughter is a mother, my daughter-in-law is a mother, and my wife is a grandmother. I know Fathers Day is on the horizon, but I always feel a little guilty about it. Men have it easy and I’m not going to argue about that. I don’t deserve a special day.
Of course, like most men, if I were the one to give birth, I’d demand my own month and resort facilities in Aspen. There would also have been an epidermal that would have incapacitated Seabiscuit. But, I digress….
God could not be everywhere, and therefore he made mothers. —Rudyard Kipling
The most important thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother. —Theodore Hesburgh
If evolution really works, how come mothers only have two hands? —Milton Berle