COLUMNS

Outtakes Around the Lakes: We only get one 'momma'

Frank Weaver Jr.
Suburbanite correspondent
Frank Weaver Jr.

Your Mother is yours. If you have siblings, your Momma's shared among them. Otherwise she's yours and yours alone. Mother, Mummy, Mom, Momma; whatever you call her, treat her as you would treat yourself. Better yet, treat her better. She gave you the greatest gift you could have ever received. She gave you life. No other Momma could have done that. Call it a Divine act, call it destiny, call it an act of love, call it whatever you will. The fact of the matter is, to you, there's no other human being quite like her. Not even the mother of someone else. Not even mine.

In return, all she ever asks of you is to give her your love. Roses are nice. Cards are touching, especially the homemade ones that children still make. Unless she's diabetic, a box of sweets shows what you think of her. Her reward is knowing you care. That's all she's ever dedicated herself for you.

You may even find your momma loving a nice, tasty meal cooked by none other than you, her child (as long as you are old enough to operate a stove and use sharp kitchen tools such as knives), with desert. Your momma could end up being just as pleased as a dozen pink peaches in a sweet, succulent, tasty, peach pie or a mouth watering peach crumb cake.

If the culinary art skills are not your forte, show her your love by taking her out to a fine dining restaurant, sitting her at a table by the water and letting her know that the sky's the limit. So tell her to order anything her little heart desires and to enjoy to the fullest, each and every delicious bite.

Then when the bill comes, ask the server to present it to Momma. And when it arrives, watch the look on her face before breaking out in laughter. After all, if she really is your momma, she'll understand and knowing you the way she does will expect some of your shenanigans just to give both her and you a good laugh on her special day. Then give her a big hug and kiss and tell her how much you love her. She'll enjoy that even more than she does her meal.

I wish I could still do that, but those days are just a memory now. Our momma is gone, joining our dad in the great hereafter. She left us at 96 years of age in June of 2013, shortly after her last Mother's Day celebration. All eleven of her children scattered from one end of the country to the other and in between, including yours truly, made it to her wake and funeral services back in the Dutch country of southeastern Pennsylvania. And as we dined once more on some of those mouthwatering foods she made as we grew to adulthood, we listened and relived our youth as we told stories of our childhoods and our association with the most wonderful woman any child could ever have for a mother.

Yes, our momma's gone now, but behind, she left a treasure chest filled to the brim with old Pennsylvania Dutch recipes of foods when we grew up. And each year on Mother's Day I look for something special in her memory and make it. And as I enjoy it, I lift my fork or spoon skyward toward the heavens and toast my momma, saying, “This is for you, Momma. Happy Mother's Day.” And I'm sure my other remaining eight siblings do nearly the same.

WOW! What memories we have in which we can dwell as we grow old. I sometimes think that as smart as our momma was, she just may have planned it that way. Each time we take a bite of her special prepared foods we think of her. And she loves it. Here's to you Momma.

Comments may be emailed to: Frankweaverjr@aol.com