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A Mother’s Treasure

A few days ago I visited my stepmother, who is in a rehab facility recuperating from a fall. She asked me to go to her home and retrieve some valuables she had hidden in a secret place.

I couldn’t imagine what she would have hidden away, and I certainly didn’t expect to find much. There was a key to a lock box in a little coin purse, her social security card, some insurance cards . . . and then I saw this vaguely familiar, crudely fashioned piece of pottery. I turned it over and saw my name scrawled on the bottom. I finally recognized it as the end result of an art project I did at school when I was about 8 years old. It had somehow survived 57 years of living with two boys at home, five major moves and a couple of downsizings.

I guess a Mother’s love can best be defined by the things she can’t throw away. If you check your Mom’s attic, you’ll probably find every paper lace Mother’s Day card, hand-made doily Valentine, cardboard Santa, camp project, clay pot, finger painting and every card and letter you ever sent her. Mothers are like that, and I think that’s why they hold such a special place in our hearts.

By now I hope my Mother has forgotten about all the rusted out vehicles in various states of disrepair that I parked in her yard along with that two-ton lathe that no one could move, the loud Elvis music, my whining about homework and household chores, etc. etc. etc. As Mark Twain said, “My Mother had a great deal of trouble with me, but I think she enjoyed it.” I certainly hope that’s the case.

Even though there’s no way to adequately reward or repay our Mothers, we always try on Mother’s Day. If you find something in the Col. Littleton line that you think is right for your Mom, we’ll rush it out to you. She would probably like something personalized . . . whatever you decide, we’ll take special care of it for you.

 

Someone once said “A Mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care much for pie.”  That pretty well sums it up.