Thought From Mike On Mother's Day

“My mom is a never-ending song in my heart of comfort, happiness, and being.  I may sometimes forget the words but I always remember the tune.”  ~ Graycie Harmon

Erma Elizabeth Johnson Bluhm Carlston

Born  December 16, 1910

If someone were to ask any of Mom’s children to pretend they are in a Psychology 101 class and diagram our family to represent the solar system, there is no doubt each of us would unhesitatingly place her in the center position:  She is our sun. That’s probably the only thing we would agree on.  (For anyone who may claim they are Jupiter, you may want to look up and see what Jupiter is made of before declaring so.)    Since astronomers have now expelled Pluto from the list of planets, there is a perfect symmetry to the solar system analogy:  Our solar system has eight planets. Mom has eight children whose existences still revolve around her.

I don’t suppose it’s unusual for a child of any age to adduce his or her mother as the sun as in their solar system.  In fact, it’s probably the rule. And it’s the right and even the duty of every child with a good mother to think so.  So it’s my right to believe she is special even among the rarified ranks of great mothers.   What I think extraordinary is that even among such mothers her influence is, pardon the pun, astronomical.  She provides light and warmth to us and our children and grandchildren through the noble, dignified manner she met the challenges that were thrown her way. 

On the surface, the journey of my own personal feelings for my mother was conventional.  The first memories I have is her at the center of my universe, and I looked to her for everything.  She could do no wrong.  This attitude eroded in my teenage years, to where she could do no right.  Then at about age 19, I had an epiphany of sorts, realizing how truly special she is.  And for several years I held her high on the highest pedestal in an almost sainted position.  I think of her every day, especially at this time of year (her birthday, Christmas). And the older I get, the more I believe I truly understand her life.  I would like to think that perhaps now I have some insight into the choices she made and her strengths and weaknesses.  And the more I have pondered her life and the sacrifices she made, the more amazed I am.  The meaning of “putting someone on a pedestal” is to think they are perfect.  She is still on that pedestal in my mind’s eye, but not because I put her there. She's there because she she climbed there by nobly facing the immense challenges which were thrown her way. She is there not because she is a perfect person or because she is a perfect mother, because she has a perfect love for me.  And she is the perfect mother for me.

Her reaction to a tribute like this would most assuredly be one of acute modesty and even embarrassment.  She would tell us that she doesn’t deserve “all that praise” and, possibly misunderstanding the orbit metaphor, would probably tell us to get out of our ruts and stop going around in circles.  J

This blog is dedicated to her.  Feel free to share any memories and photos you have.  Since everyone in the famly will have the same id and, please end each blog with your name.  The date will automatically be posted.

Thanks!

Alan Carlston