“My mother.” Think of how often you’ve said those words.
Maybe your mother dries your tears. Or drives you nuts. Or needs your care. Maybe you’re not entirely sure how you feel about your mother. Maybe you never knew your mother — yet you think about her just the same.
In honor of Mother’s Day, we decided to issue this challenge: Write an essay of 200 words or less beginning with the words “My mother is … ” or “My mother was … “
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More than 180 of you — from age 8 into your eighth decade and beyond — took us up on that challenge. Many of you called your mothers a “hero,” an “inspiration” or your “cheerleader.” Others expressed more nuanced thoughts.
Your mothers have struggled through some of life’s most difficult challenges — poverty, wartime, illness, single parenthood — to keep you fed, sheltered, clothed and loved.
It isn’t possible for us to publish all the essays, but we did our best to choose ones most representative of your thoughts. So here, in your words, is a many-hued portrait of how you feel about your mothers.
My mother is the “best” mother in the whole world. I know this for a fact because I am one of the best kids in the whole world. If the “O’Gorman kids are the best kids in the whole world,” per mom, we had to have come from the best mother. This view has always been shared with my 10 siblings.
I checked the thesaurus just to make sure we were in agreement on the word “best.” I am reassured that my mother exemplifies all the synonyms, such as: excellent, genuine, ideal, model, perfection, virtue, etc.
“Excellent” may come close to describing the way she always took the time to listen and respond to each of us, as individuals. “Genuine” is a trait she lived by and succeeded in passing down to all. The word “virtue” just does not adequately define a woman who would give up a new coat year after year in favor of the clarinet and trombone for two musically ungifted young boys. Not to mention the jewels, cars and vacations that she traded for 11 educations.
However, I think my favorite is “masterpiece.” She is truly a work of art.
Kathleen Altman
Mokena
Before my mom died, she was a caring and loving person who always showed proper manners for others.
My mother was always heroic by going for her master’s degree and succeeding in getting it. That?s why I plan to surpass her by getting my doctor’s degree. I know if my mother were still here that she would be proud. She was always brave because even though she had to work and go to school, she always found time for her children.
She was always a peaceful person because when I did something wrong she would help me fix it so I wouldn’t do it again. She was a forgiving person as well. That is why I will always love my mom.
Marcellus, 13
St. Angela School, Chicago
My mother was your typical WWII mom. Because of the housing shortage and circumstances, we lived with my aunt and her family. It was just Mom and me. Dad was away in the Air Force stationed in India.
Mom worked as a riveter in a defense plant. She looked so cute going off to work in her outfit of rolled-up pants, shirt tied at the waist and hair wrapped in a turban.
My job, when she came home at night, was to pick out the rivets that became embedded in the bottom of her shoes. Then we would crawl into the twin bed we shared and she would eat an apple, read the Reader’s Digest, listen to the news on the radio, shut the lights, and hold me real tight because she was scared. I know, because I was scared too.
Joan E. Knudsen
Chicago Ridge
My mom is …
– A diva because she knows her style!
– A cook because she cooks the best spaghetti. She even teaches me how to cook.
– A singer because she used to play in a band with her dad.
– A straight AAA+ student.
– Amazing because she can do the splits.
– Smart because she teaches me Spanish.
And that’s why I love my mom.
Abriana, 9
Dawes School, Evanston
My mother is Norwegian. For you uninitiated, I’ll try to explain.
You must know how to keep a house as a germ-free environment, Norwegians bringing a whole new meaning to the word “pristine.” Never tell your daughter she has done a good cleaning job; always point out some “missed” area.
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Growing up before clothes dryers were popular, my Norwegian mother judged neighbors by how early, and how neatly, they hung out their laundry.
You arrived at least an hour early for church or any other social engagement.
You never, ever returned a dish to a neighbor empty. The Norwegian motto is “eat early, eat often, eat with neighbors.” Norwegians may look a little rigid, but they definitely can party.
You made sure your lutefisk (cod soaked in lye) was the very best — how to make that stuff the best escapes this Norwegian-American daughter.
My Norwegian mother turned 100 last December. She will soon celebrate, once again in 2007, Norwegian Independence Day.
Christine Spencer
Skokie
My mom was my home. She was my cozy, comfy, loving place in this world. She listened to me like nobody ever has and always made me look at my issues with new perspective. My life lost its anchor when she died eight years ago. I was only just becoming an adult at the age of 26.
I still hold dear the lessons I learned from my mother in life and in death: Always look at the sunny side of life, cherish your friends and family, and enjoy each precious moment you have on this earth. I had a daughter a year ago. What a gift she has been to me. I know that, because of my mom, I will be a gift to her.
Sarah McCarthy
Chicago
My mother was 80 years old when she died in 1971. I was 50 with eight little ones. In all of my 50 years, she never had a kind word for me. No encouragement, no confirmation of all that I had accomplished, rarely if ever communicated a light mood or said that she was happy or reasonably content.
When I was much younger, I too was very sad but never knew why. As I got older and had children of my own, I realized that my mother was not well, because with the birth of each of my children, my joy overflowed. There was nothing in her life that I can recall that gave her joy.
When she was ill and dying, I spent several hours of each day with her for the three last weeks of her life. A few days before the end came she turned to me and said, “You are the joy of my life.” She said it in Italian, which made it even more poignant for me. Although I realized many years before that moment that she had done the best she could, these last words put the icing on the cake for me.
Josephine Stewart
Chicago
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IN THE WEB EDITION See more letters and video of children reading their letters with their mothers at chicagotribune/mymother.
ON THE RADIO Tune in to “The Kathy and Judy Show” on WGN-AM Radio 720 from 9 a.m. to noon Wednesday to hear more about your mothers, in your words.