I hope everyone had a chance to show appreciation to their mothers this Mother’s Day, whether or not she is here or in a special place in heaven. The greater majority of us had mothers, with the exception of some individuals in the current administration in D.C. who were accidentally created when an Igor-like lab technician accidentally grabbed some test tubes containing abnormal zygotes from a fertility lab and passed them off as normal.
In a bit of non-mother-related inanity from the current presidential administration, which is always good for a snicker or two, Donny Boy recently complained about increasing the testing for COVID-19 because it would show an increased number of cases (really?), that in turn would make him look bad, as if he didn’t have a handle on the crisis even though he’s done a perfect job controlling it. It seems to be a case of “Do as I say, not as I do,” because our President Who Would Be King and those around him in the West Wing are getting tested daily. Surprisingly, the increased numbers of cases are showing up in the White House. Not surprisingly, Trump doesn’t even follow his own virus guidelines about wearing a mask, social distancing. I’m referring to the current virus here, not the one that moved into the White House more than three years ago. Clorox mouthwash won’t even cure that one. But since Don’s son-in-law Jared has stated the coronavirus has been conquered and all is well, why is The Donald worried? He can always count on a LiquidPlumr® White Russian cocktail to render him immune. His buddy, Vladimir Putin, probably would be happy to send him his private recipe. Anyway, this whole thing’s Barack Obama’s fault.
These past few virus isolation days, I’ve begun getting the backyard ready for nice weather, which means clearing out a few of the rusted hulks of junked cars, appliances, and squatters, and saying a prayer for various green things to appear, excluding Frankenstein. I prefer the natural look, so each year I mainly let God take care of the yard. He’s doing a very good job and I don’t want to insult him by messing with his landscape plan as if I thought it wasn’t good enough, so I remain hands off. One thing I did do was replace our sundial on its pedestal and set it to the correct time. Last year it was running a little slow, losing a few minutes each day. After I set it up this year, I sprayed some WD-40 on the gnomon’s shadow and hopefully that will keep it moving. It should prevent the shadow from wearing out the dial plate.
Since I started this piece with mothers, and somehow got off track, I’ll wrap it up with a mother’s story. My own mother grew up on Division Street just west of Wells Street in Chicago. In the late 1910s, when she was about six, her father abandoned the family and she, her younger sister and mother, were left to fend for themselves. With no Social Security or Welfare in those days, to earn some money she entered local talent contests, which she generally won. Her mother did laundry, but their combined income was barely enough for food. They had been living in a condemned building and one day while the girls were at school and their mother was washing clothes elsewhere, the city tore the building down and with it, all their belongings. It was just in time for The Great Depression, although by the way they were living, I wonder if they even noticed. The three of them survived, and for better or worse, my mother even managed to bring me into existence. So for all mothers everywhere, we love you; not just on Mother’s Day, but every day.