A gift sometimes comes in the form of a lesson learned.
In celebration of Mother’s Day May 10, we asked seven local women, including three sisters, to share their favorite memory of their mother or the greatest lesson they learned from her. From their stories, we learned about one mother who watched Sesame Street with her daughter, jointly repeating letters of the alphabet aloud. A Chinese woman living in the United States and struggling to overcome a language barrier, tirelessly she worked to make sure her daughter, now a television news anchor speaking unfaltering in front of the camera, wouldn’t face the same hardships that she did. Another mother, while going through chemotherapy, kept an eye on her daughters’ schoolwork; whilst one unwaveringly attended morning mass after a tragic family death and sickness. Reflecting on these and other shared stories of courage, faith, strength, education and kindness, we learn that the greatest lesson a mother bestows on her children are teachings of love, which is the greatest gift of all.
Live Out Loud by Dion Lim
“How did you, be on TV anchor from mom like me?” were the first words to come out of my mom’s mouth when I told her about my new job at KMBC.
“I must be good at reading!”
No, actually her English was, at one time, horrible. Having grown up in China, Mom’s thick accent and sometimes non-coherent speech marred her words so badly that I was embarrassed to be in public with her. Asking for directions would sometimes take minutes as she fumbled to find the word “highway.”
Nonetheless, her dream was for me to speak perfectly, and it became her personal crusade.
“If I were still in Shanghai, I could be anything I want,” Mom says. “Because I don’t learn English, I can do not much.”
Growing up, we watched Sesame Street every day—repeating what the characters said.
“C is for cookie.”
Every single night, my mom read to me, sounding out the syllables like a kindergartener.
“Once upon a time there were four lit-tle rab-bits…Flop-sy, Mop-sy Cot-ton-tail and Pet-er,” she would read.
While these marathon reading sessions were, at times, painstakingly drawn out (imagine re-pronouncing the word “rabbit” over and over again), I enjoyed the effort she put into our lessons.
Never did I enjoy being forced to play the piano at 3 years old. Nor did I enjoy the art, tennis, swimming and French lessons my mom enrolled me in. (Ask me if I can play Vagner, sketch a building or order crepes Suzette at a Parisian bistro. C’mon, I dare you).
But there was something different about my daily English lesson with Mom. Maybe it was the fact she was partaking in these lessons with me. You could see the determination in her eyes to not let herself down again. She already failed to pay attention in school herself. She would not fail—not for the daughter she wouldn’t be able to have if she stayed in China. With the gift of speech, I could do anything I wanted.
My mom says my best gift to her was being born on Mother’s Day. I say my best gift to her is using the voice she gave me to express myself, share ideas and chase my dream of being a reporter and news anchor. Mom, every newscast is for you.
Life Goes On by Peggy Dunn
I am indeed blessed to have one of the most wonderful mothers in the entire world. Although she’s now in her 80s, she looks years younger than her age and has more energy than many women in their 30s! Even though life is a bit hectic, we both make the effort to talk every day, usually very early in the morning before our days begin. She is genuinely interested in my life and the lives of my extended family, and for that, I am extremely grateful.
There have been numerous lessons that she has taught me during the course of my life.
My mother, Virginia Clune, is a very beautiful, gregarious and gracious lady. She cares deeply about her entire family, and she is especially devoted to my father. They have been very happily married for nearly 61 years. After my grandfather passed away, I admired the love and friendship my mother had with her own mother, my grandmother, until her death at age 99.
The thing that I respect most about my mother is her deep spirituality and the difference that has made in her life. She attends daily Mass at Cure of Ars. As a family, and like most families, we have suffered some times of tragedy. There have been illnesses and even deaths. While extreme sorrow has been understandable, accepted and tolerated for a time, my mother’s deep faith has always lifted her back up to her healthy and happy outlook on life.
My older sister and one of my younger brothers developed kidney disease at very early ages. My sister died at the age of 6, and my brother lived on kidney dialysis a great part of his life. During this tremendously challenging time in their lives, my parents founded an organization to help others enduring similar struggles. They started the local chapter of the National Kidney Foundation serving Kansas and Western Missouri. This year marks the 50th, the golden, anniversary for this organization.
Besides the attention my mother focuses on her family, she also has many other activities that keep her busy. In her early years, she was a stay-at-home mom with an incredible work ethic. She later became employed outside the home in her family business. Even after retiring a number of years ago, she has not slowed down one bit! She is an avid reader, bridge player, golfer (usually with my father and with friends much younger than themselves) and entertainer. Have I mentioned that she enjoys going out to dinner? She is, however, also a terrific cook. She exercises regularly and watches her diet… she also watches my father’s diet.
Yes, my mother has taught me how to love, give back, live and enjoy life to the fullest. How very fortunate I feel to be her daughter.
The Four Cs of Life by Vicki Bishop
A simple request from 435 South’s editor, and I felt like I was back in grade school. “Tell me about your mom.” It was one of those simple creative writing assignments for English class that is so deceptively complex—extra points for penmanship.
Like my younger days, I was blocked on where to start. There are many memories and stories to tell. As I did as a child, I placed an immediate call for ideas to my two older sisters. Of course, now we’re across town instead of across the hall. Yes, we were one of those families with three girls—the clothes, the battles for the bathroom and the raging hormones. Yet mom always prevailed. Always.
My sisters and I went down memory lane thinking about our mother and recalled enough incidents and events that we could launch our own sitcom. But when it came right down to it, the things that stick with me most about my mom are the intangible elements of character and what I call the “Four Cs of Life.”
No trait rings more true with my mom than her Courage. While we were all away at college, mom battled and won against cancer. Her selfless ability to keep us focused on school and yet fight through the chemo with a single-minded drive to recover amazes me to this day. This was at a time when the “pink” support system was not as prevalent. Yet nothing exemplifies her courage more than having to say goodbye last May to the love of her life and soul mate of 54 years, my father. Her courage has helped me to place extraordinary value on good health and life itself.
Caring and Kindness (I know, a stretch, but still the third C) are basic in her nature. Quite simply, if anyone is sick or needs help, my mom is the first to help in any way. I clearly remember the times that she and my father would hear about a family in need and, without hesitation or expectation, took the steps to help them. Her random acts of kindness are legendary. She once befriended a waitress at a local restaurant with small children whose washer and dryer had broken. My mom didn’t just give her the money for new machines, she picked them out and had them installed. Random acts of unanticipated kindness have endeared her to so many.
Her ability to live out the “Four Cs of Life” continues to inspire me daily to live up to these same principles as they have enriched my life.
I know what you’re thinking, “Hey, that’s only three Cs.” The fourth C? Well, anyone who knows Connie Phillips at all knows that the fourth C stands for Carryout. And nobody does it better!
Outside the Box by Dede Goehler, Dana Bartimus and Megan Leathers
This Mother’s Day we are grateful for our mom, Mimi. After 50-plus years, her way of parenting is still right on the mark. She’s always been progressive and forward-thinking. Our mother encouraged open and continued conversations about love, sexuality and respect. As three girls coming of age in the early 70s, this was highly unusual. She didn’t lecture us but fostered conversations about our thoughts and feelings, allowing us to find our own way with her occasional guidance. This gave us the confidence to be true to ourselves and believe we were worthy of respect. In the age of free love, she made us feel valuable as young women.
We vividly remember our mother playing the piano while we sat on our screened porch with friends. She made them welcome and part of our family. Since she had only daughters, she enjoyed conversations with boys that came to see us. Mimi made us see them as real people and not just potential dates. These males, now middle-aged, occasionally call her to talk about their lives. She
made a difference by quietly being a presence in their early years.
We remember arguing with her about dieting in high school. We didn’t want to eat breakfast, but she insisted, so we learned the art of compromise and for years we ate chicken noodle soup at 7:30 a.m. We learned solutions could be unusual and “out of the box.” Our mother never let small things get to her, but if something was important she’d let us know. “Save your big guns for the big battles” was definitely her motto. And when she raised one eyebrow, we knew we had crossed the line.
Mimi loved us unconditionally but always expected us to do and be our best. We could argue, but we were never allowed to use “character assassination” as a weapon. When the fight was over, there was always forgiveness. She did not expect us to be perfect, and she let us know she was not perfect either. We learned to mother not only from our heads, but from our hearts.
This Mother’s Day we celebrate the grace of our mother’s love. We can never thank her enough for the joy and knowledge she has given us; we can only hope to pass it on to our children and grandchildren.
Looking Deeper by Kelly Harris
I tucked one perpetually sticky hand into my child-sized muff and wrapped the other safely in my mother’s hand. It was Christmastime, and I was seeing The Nutcracker for the first time—a big event for a 4-year-old. I wore my red, sequined Mary Jane shoes that I buckled with Mom’s help and a matching red coat. I felt like Dorothy as I sat in the plush seats of the theater. Each pirouette and grand jeté brought the Christmas story to life. Tchaikovsky’s masterpiece convinced me that I would be a ballerina, and these outings with my mother instilled an appreciation of performing arts that I’ve never lost.
On other Sundays, my mother guided me through the endless halls of the Nelson Atkins Museum of Art. We watched paintings transform from realistic to abstract and sculptures change over time. She taught me to look beyond the initial impression of a piece of art. This was what someone chose to spend their life making, something they truly loved. Art was special.
“Look for the details. What does this mean?” she asked. There is always something below the surface. It is the job of the viewers to appreciate it and to decide the significance of that particular piece of art for themselves.
As I got older, we were no longer limited to The Nutcracker and art museums. My mother and I cried for Fantine when she sold her hair to save her daughter’s life, we laughed with Simba in the face of danger, we cheered for Tracy when she defeated segregation. Sitting on the tan leather of the front seat, we rehashed each scene on the way home. In the midst of my somewhat painful renditions of memorable scenes, the musicals always had power to relate to life. By this time, I was well-versed in looking for detail and finding meaning behind dance steps and music.
Whether it is a performance or a painting, the true value is decided by the underlying message. My mom taught me to think about why certain aspects of a painting are included, why particular costumes are worn or certain songs are sung. I realize now that these Sundays were about more than wearing pretty shoes. My mom was preparing me for the future by making sure that I would never consider just the façade.