Dear Ann Landers: Today is Mother’s Day, and I hope you will print this essay my daughter sent to me.
I don’t know who wrote it, but it reminded me of my own mother, and I’ll bet others will see their mothers in it too. — Mary in Minnesota
Dear Mary: I loved it! Thanks for sending it on: Only a Mother
Only a mother can listen to the same knock-knock joke 27 times without hollering, “Nobody’s home!”
Only a mother will unwind 56 feet of toilet paper so her little darling can have the empty roll to make her a Mother’s Day present.
Only a mother knows the exact temperature a crayon will melt on the dashboard.
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Only a mother will try to hide a leafy green vegetable in a cookie.
Only a mother sees a Picasso in the scribbles decorating the refrigerator.
Only a mother knows all the verses to “This Old Man.”
Only a mother can deal out emergency lunch money from the dryer lint filter.
Only a mother can find her last good pair of pantyhose hitching a wagon to a tricycle.
Only a mother is limber enough to wrestle a fitted sheet onto the top bunk bed.
Only a mother will attempt to grow hydroponic tomatoes in one night for a last-minute science project.
Only a mother has a bathtub filled with little yellow duckies.
Only a mother will notice that there are only four pieces of pie for five people and promptly announce that she never did care for pie.
Dear Ann Landers: While going through some papers, I came across a yellowed clipping from one of your columns printed in 1966. I have two sons and five grandchildren, all of whom live nearby. They are always “too busy” to call or stop by. I hope you will print this letter again and ask them to remember us. — Frustrated Grandma in Ft. Lauderdale, Fla.
Dear Grandma: Several readers have asked me to reprint this one. Here it is:
Dear Ann Landers: Today is my mother’s birthday. For the first time since I was a little girl, I cannot give her a gift.
After I married, we lived only a mile apart. I always managed to run in and drop off a present I had picked up at the last minute. Sometimes I didn’t even wait long enough to have it gift-wrapped. No matter what it was, she’d smile and say, “You knew exactly what I wanted, didn’t you, dear?”
Then I’d head for the door, and she would sigh, “I wish you could sit down and visit for a little while. You are always in such a hurry.”
My stock answer was, “I wish I could, Mom, and I will, one of these days I we’ll have a really good visit, but today, I have so many things to do, I must get going.” For the life of me, I can’t remember what I was doing that was so important, but I was always running.
“One of these days” will never come because Mom passed away last week. For the very first time in her wonderful, unselfish life, she was the one who didn’t have time for me. She had a massive heart attack and went so fast, I’m not sure she heard me say, “I love you, Mom.”
Time has a sneaky way of slipping away. We all get so involved in our own little worlds, and before you know it, the tomorrows are yesterdays. If I can encourage just one person to stop, no matter how busy, and find an hour to visit his or her mother, it will be the best gift I could give my mom. And it will be the best present your readers could give theirs. — I’ll Miss Her Forever
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Lonesome? Take charge of your life and turn it around. Write for Ann Landers’ booklet “How to Make Friends and Stop Being Lonely.” Send a self-addressed, long, business-size envelope and a check or money order for $4.25 (this includes postage and handling) to: Friends, c/o Ann Landers, P.O. Box 11562, Chicago, IL 60611-0562. (In Canada, send $5.15.)