Take off your hat, I want to stand up.

Chapter 23: Honour thy Mother.

Chapter 23: Honour those who care most for us.

Grandad Blair passed away in early January, 1967. He lived with our family for the final few months of his life. He was 81 years old. The death of her father; left Ev in a reflective mood. Sometimes out of the blue she would deliver Grandpa Blair wisdom to me in particular.

Jackie she said, Honour thy mother and father. She caught me off guard.

When is the start, not the start? Nor the beginning, not the beginning? The answer is, because it is Ev we are talking about. She was a real person, an authentic, beautiful human being a different form of energy. When she talked I generally listened.

Ev pulled down her basic brown rimmed glasses to spy over the top and peer down at me and through me. Jackie, listen, she paused for dramatic effect, listen to this she appealed. She was leafing through her black bound bible, stopped, inspected a passage in deep concentration and reverential thought, are you ready? Yes, alright, what is it I thought, but I said not a word, patience is required in a close up situation such as this. What could it be? The bible, it could be anything. Ev gained all of her precious learning moments from the inspiration of the good book as our ancestors called it, especially her daddy, Grandpa Blair, she spoke.

In a very articulate almost exaggerated method of speaking she added, " Honour thy Mother and Father, all the days of your life." She stopped. Her bright brown eyes riveted on me and drove the message home. She resumed a quiet continuance, I finished the last few dregs of my very good beer, rose to refill before the second period of the hockey game  started.

As I walked across the living room at the lake, I met my moms eyes, great she had just penetrated my psychic membrane with a thousand years of parental guilt and glued me to her forever. It seemed like one of those times parents say to us, please do not do anything that would take away our trust, pride and faith in you. The guilt could definitely be quick set, the effect lasting, the intent recognized, my moral compass had been readjusted and now pointed in the right direction for life. Ev had adjusted my perspective, she was happy, I was happy, it was a push.

One of my good friends told the story in a similar manner, as she was heading out to party her face off, her mom greeted her at her exit. She called out after her, don't do anything I wouldn't t be proud of, dear. Have a good time.

Great she thought now I am doomed. Once her mom had said those words she failed to be in control of her social time, as mom was now over her shoulder all the time. Even alcohol could not blunt that mother saber thrust to the heart of her being, thanks mom. Later as she related this story to a larger group of peers at her retirement party she said, no really thank you mom, you cared for me in a way no one else could care or love me, thanks mom, I love you too.

We do love our mothers, our moms, we miss them, we shall honour them all the days of our lives, so be it. If you think about it long enough it is evident our mothers taught us all the essential life lessons almost by osmosis.

Moms are powerful, but sneaky.