Oh, may they hear me calling (update)

What with one thing and another, things around here have been a bit surreal lately and not only because of Dali and Dollies.

What with one thing and another, I've been thinking about mothers.

Here's a list:

Mothers of children, daughters and sons. Mothers of plants, dogs and cats. Young mothers. Old, middle aged, teenage, young aged. Mothers of girls, boys and twins. Mothers of triplets. Organic mothers, hippies, mothers of teachers, doctors, lawyers, professors, writers, poets, priests, rabbis and gurus. Mothers of soldiers, Mothers-in-law, mothers outlawed, mothers in love, angry and hurt, disappointed and sad, joyous and playful, serious and critical. Mothers who bake, those who ache, mothers who cook, clean and sew. Gardeners, mothers who talk to plants and walk their dogs. Mothers who collect pebbles on the beach , wear large sunhats and sunglasses and fill their cars full of groceries. Mothers who serve, protect and defend, those who sacrifice and work inside, outside and all around the home. Mothers who swim, cycle, walk and run. Those who ski, farm and play ball. Mothers who sing and dance, play the piano, cello, saxophone, trombone and say "Om." Mothers who knit, and sit, read, listen to BBC and watch TV. Mothers who weep and laugh out loud. Single mothers and those in a crowd. Adopted mothers and those who adopt. Mothers who tell stories and tuck children into bed. Those who bathe, mothers who wave and those they save. Mothers who long for their children on far off shores, mothers who never see them any more. Mothers dead, mothers alive, mothers struggle and those who survive. Mothers who act, mothers who pack up home to move again and again, those who cite, and those who write journals, poems, plays, novels, and those who blog, and blog and blog ...

Years ago, In Buffalo I once heard Emmylou Harris sing Calling My Children Home a capella. If I could I would sing it for you.

Those lives were mine to love and cherish.
To guard and guide along life's way.
Oh God forbid that one should perish.
That one alas should go astray.

Back in the years with all together,
Around the place we'd romp and play.
So lonely now and oft' times wonder,
Oh will they come back home some day.

I'm lonesome for my precious children,
They live so far away.
Oh may they hear my calling...calling…
and come back home some day.

I gave my all for my dear children,
Their problems still with love I share,
I'd brave life's storm, defy the tempest
To bring them home from anywhere.

I lived my life my love I gave them,
to guide them through this world of strife,
I hope and pray we'll live together,
In that great glad here after life.

I'm lonesome for my precious children,
They live so far away.
Oh may they hear my calling...calling… and come back home some day.

Update:

After I completed this post, I opened my front door to look for the New York Times Magazine section and found these.

Did he hear me calling ... ?

My heart is full to overflowing.

Thank you, my son.

Comments

[Nian]

Hi Tamar,

You know what I was looking for in the picture？

I was trying hard to figure out which corner it is in your apartment? And I found out that it is where we had the Habermas cookies. Right? Clues of the hilarious night!

Happy Mother's Day!

[Ella]

Happy Mother's Day.

I'm sure your day was much brighter after that lovely bouquet of flowers and especially that it was from your son.

[Tamar]

Thanks Nian and Ella for these good wishes.

Ella, yes! The flowers surely made this person feel loved - and especially the surprise at finding them!

Nian, yes you are right about where the flowers were placed. Thanks for the Habermas cookies memory! (and the card...)When are you coming to Philadelphia?

Hmm I wonder - shouldn't there be a mother's day cake on mother's day?

[the narrator]

Happy Mom's Day, what a great gift to wake to...

That's why I created the blogspot site, because of the closed nature of xanga, though I like that "building community" in xanga seems easier. (I'm just sometimes a little behind in duping stuff)

Anyway, thanks for you comments. Why do I listen? Because I still read at more or less a third grade level without the technology. No, not quite true, but it can take me 20 minutes a page easily in a typical fiction book, and it's so slow that I forget what I'm reading about. So Books-on-Tape and computer reading... well, they're pretty important to me.

[Tamar]

narrator: Thanks for stopping by and answering my question - and also for the good wishes!

I really enjoyed reading your post and "meme" on the xanga site.

I am curious about this "slow reading" thing you mention because your writing is prolific! Intriguing.

[Jean]

Habermas cookies?!

[Tamar]

Jean, Tom is an expert on Habermas. When Nian and Leanne (his graduate students) came by to help us in our move, I offered some cookies that had been sent to us by Tom's mother for Christmas. I couldn't remember the name of them so, in our moving delirium, we called them "Habermas Cookies."