Today NPR featured a short segment about the founder of Mother’s Day, Anna Jarvis. (The fact that she’s from West Virginia played neatly into their coverage of that state’s upcoming Presidential primary). Anna Jarvis, never a mother herself, campaigned to establish Mother’s Day as a holiday to esteem the “truth, purity and broad charity of mother love.” After she succeeded, she was horrified at its commercialization, and waged many public feuds against people who abused “her” holiday’s original intentions. Once, she noticed a ‘Mother’s Day Salad’ on a restaurant menu, and ordered it just so she could dump it on the floor and walk out.
Yes, at times, Anna Jarvis acted a little nuts, but her aim was noble. She wanted “a day of sentiment, not profit.” She was horrified at the popularity of Mother’s Day greeting cards, “a poor excuse for the letter you are too lazy to write.” Ooof. It hurts because it’s a little true. I did send my mother a nice greeting card, and signed my name to someone else’s words. So here’s my own sentiment for my Mother…
To the right is a picture from my family’s trip to Disney World in 1982. We are on a ferry boat. That’s my Mom in the sunglasses which, incidentally, have come back in style. Seated next to her is 5-year old me, 7-year old Laurie (in the Phillies cap), and 10-year old Brian.
It was my first trip to Disney World, although my Mom likes to remind me that, during the previous family trip, she went on Space Mountain when she was pregnant with me. Which explains so much.
What I remember most about that first trip to Disney World, aside from the rides, is throwing a tantrum at the hotel because my parents insisted that I take a nap while my siblings went to the pool. I remember howling in the hotel lobby, hysterical, insisting that I didn’t need a nap. Of course, this is the equivalent of a drunk person slurrily insisting that they’re ‘kay to be driving. I ended up taking the nap, and when I woke up, it was like everyone had forgotten about my horrific behavior.
That night, we returned to the theme park, and went to the Haunted Mansion, which is my Mom’s favorite ride. I remember huddling in the Doom Buggy with her, thrilling at the ghosts, goblins, and graveyards. I felt as safe and happy as I’ll ever want to be.
(I hope this little exercise in sentiment would have pleased Anna Jarvis, although I get the feeling she would disapprove of my sentiment being rooted in a manufactured ‘Disney-magic’ moment.)
