Forgetting
Kathleen Redux

Mother’s Day

 

I thought that Mother's Day was a conspiracy of Hallmark, the floral delivery folks and the candy makers of the world, that is, before I became a mother. My first Mother's Day card came from "Pumpkinella," our then overdue first-born.  Ten days late, he was not yet delivered and therefore unable to deliver the card himself.

Over the years, I have received wonderful loving cards from each of our two sons. Now, the father of our grandkids sends wonderful photos, artfully framed for Mother's Day.  His brother sends cards with notes about what a good mom I am that are guaranteed to make me weep.

This year was different.  We celebrated Mother's Day a week early with our grandkids and their parents.  Then we joined our journalist son Seth in NYC for Mother's Day weekend.  Rather than the usual make-mom-weep card, he took us to a chamber music concert.  This treat was brought to us by a son who has been known to refer to us as his "classical-music-loving parents" as if he, himself wouldn't be caught dead at such an event.  But a story he was writing took him to Bargemusic, chamber music played on a renovated coffee barge moored on the Brooklyn side of the East River, just under the Brooklyn Bridge.  For thirty years, Julliard or the equivalent-trained soloists have played chamber music for loyal audiences in the 150-seat setting.  Seth thought we would like it.

Peter and Seth and I sat in the first row, and I could have reached out and touched the cellist.  The three musicians were marvelous.  They played only pieces Peter and I love, and I think Seth enjoyed them too.  Occasionally the boat rocked gently as a larger vessel passed in the river.  We could see the sun set from our seats, and during intermission, we walked out on the dock to see Manhattan lit up from the Statute of Liberty to the Empire State Building.

Happy Mother's Day!

 

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