It took me many years to realize the extraordinary influence my mother has had on my life. From an outsider’s perspective, she might appear to be just another ordinary working-class woman. These is little in her dress, clothing or position to distingush her from other divorced mothers in town. Yet her modest possessions and demeanor are a sharp contrast to the extraordinary gifts and wisdom my mother possesses.
My father left our family permanently before I was three. I was raised by my mother in a small, three bedroom tenement flat in North Chicago. Nothing in my mom’s background prepared her for having to accept the awesome responsibility of raising three kids by herself. She was raised in a loving, albeit modest home with two decent, God-fearing parents who taught her that love and marriage were forever. The one thing she always said about her abandonment was that she was grateful her own parents did not live to see it.
I somehow managed to grow up without knowing we were poor and “disadvantaged”. I credit my mom for that. She was always a sweet, fun-loving woman who enjoyed every minute she spent with us. She worked hard all day as a legal secretary in Chicago, but always made it home by six to share dinner with us and to hear about our day. It never occurred to me that by the time she began cooking pasta for us, she had already endured an exhaustive day of working, commuting and managing our home. We just knew that she loved us and that we were very special to her. She enjoyed all of the simple things in life, like ice cream and fresh-baked brownies, and taught us to do the same.
The Essay on How We Kept Mother’s Day
... subject of the story is the celebration of Mother’s Day. The passage deals with problems of family ... way out of the situation – to leave mother at home to cook dinner, all the same she ... and colouring of the story "How We Kept Mother's Day" is emotional,humorous and ironic. The author is an ... mother and to make a great holiday like Xmas. All the members of the family decided to stay at home that day, ...
Our favorite family activity came every Sunday morning after church. We’d all take the Metro bus into Chicago and spend the afternoon volunteering at the soup kitchen on First and Federal. My sisters and I would wrap large white aprons over our Sunday dresses and chop vegetables. We’d have a contest to see who could complete the celery first and I always won. My mom had been volunteering for years and assumed an administrative role. She trained new volunteers, monitored inventory and made sure that everyone felt welcome and had enough to eat. Many of the diners were regulars and my mom knew them all by name. I loved going to the soup kitchen and enjoyed
spending time with my entended family.
I never thought my life was unusual until I enrolled in the gifted program at St. Charles Academy. When I was awarded a full scholarship to go there, it fulfilled my mother’s fondest dream for me. She wanted so much for me to have the best education possible and make better life for myself. When I arrived for my first day of classes at St. Charles, I knew automatically that I didn’t fit in. I didn’t wear the “right” clothes or shoes and was considered a nerd because I took the bus. My peers all arrived in their own cars, usually sharp-looking late model sports cars, and were appalled that my family didn’t even own one. They took vacations in exotic places like Antigua and Vail, and they thought my idea of a fun evening eating ice cream with my mother was the dumbest thing they had ever heard.
I didn’t cave into the “peer pressure” of this group, as I already knew in my heart that they were wrong. They had nice clothes and cars, but they weren’t always nice people and they didn’t warm easily to outsiders. They intimidated me and I didn’t covet their friendship. I sought out people like those at the soup kitchen, who might not have a lot of money, but cherished everything they had. I found kindred spirits in people who delighted in getting an extra scoop of ice cream and who celebrated another’s success as strongly as their own.
The Essay on Abortion And Ethics Mothers Life
Abortion Question What would happen if I were to walk into a crowded restaurant and opened fire on the people inside, killing one Well, more than likely I would be hauled off to jail and sentenced for murder. If murder is illegal then how come everyday women are continually having abortions What is the difference between abortion and murder both of them involve taking the life of a living human ...
I somehow knew automatically that it was not my family that was disadvantaged, but those of my privileged tormentors at St. Charles. While they had a lot of money and power, they didn’t have the sense to enjoy it. They didn’t appreciate the small things in life, like a beautiful flower or a cool breeze, unless it had an impressive price tag. They missed out on so many wonderful opportunities to grow and make new friends because they wouldn’t hang out with anyone who wasn’t as “good” as themselves. And with all of their blessings, not one of them ever volunteered their time or money to help someone else. What a shame! Without ever nagging, lecturing, complaining or being melodramatic, my mother taught me by constant example how to ge a good, happy person.
The lessons were really very simple. No matter what your circumstances, make the best of them. Take care of your responsibilities and cherish your blessings. Love your family and neighbors and reap every drop of enjoyment from every day. Give back to the commiunity whatever time, talent or resources you can. Everyone has a contribution to make. And don’t ever be misguided by the external trappings in life, which are a poor substitue for developing your mind and soul. God made everyone of us “good enough” and my mother never let me forget that. She’s the best teacher I’ve ever had.
