On Sunday, January 31st, I will be 72 years old. Compared to my Daddy, who celebrated his 100th birthday in December, I consider myself young!
It will be a little sad for me, as until last year, I always (yes always) received a card, a telephone call and most years a gift from my Mama and Daddy. When Mama was no longer able to send cards, Daddy would get one and send it, I am sure it was done at her direction!
For the first forty years of my life, when I lived in Georgia, there was always a homemade, decorated cake with candles. Recently I have been going through stacks of old photos and I have found numerous birthday photos of me, as well as my sons and Mama and Daddy, blowing out the candles. Mama loved cards and baking and birthdays!
Her gifts, while not expensive, were very well thought out and I know she would spend hours, picking out just the right card and gift. I have also found photos of my birthday parties as a child. Sometimes just extended family, but always a special outfit, handmade decorations and party hats and of course a decorated cake.
The story of the day I was born, was repeated every year. I was born during an ice storm in Atlanta, which is unusual weather and will shut down the whole city. As the years went by, the story was embellished and I always enjoyed the retelling, as did my parents. Mama once told me that the power went out and the hospital (Crawford Long in Atlanta) was using a generator. I was born on what she called “auxiliary” power. When this detail was added to the story, we would laugh and say that explained a lot about my eccentricities and sometimes kookiness!
I was always assured I was a wanted and planned child, which I have never doubted. I am fortunate to have had my parents in my life through ups and downs and my children and my grandchildren. While they did not always agree or approve of my choices or my life, they were always there and willing to talk. I knew they loved me, even though they did not always understand me.
In the last few years, friends and family have posted fund raising events on social media on their birthdays, asking that in lieu of gifts a donation be made to a favorite charity. I received a notice several days ago asking if this is something I would like to do.
I have given it a lot of thought and I have decided that I prefer a different kind of “honor”. So I am asking that on my birthday, if you would like to do something to honor the day, call your Mama. If your Mother is no longer with us, call your Dad or your sibling or a cousin or a friend. Send a card telling someone you are thinking of them, tell your neighbor “Good Morning”, reach out to someone who needs to know you thought of them.
For years I have been a fan of Lewis Grizzard and his book “Don’t Forget to Call Your Mama – I Wish I Could Call Mine” was always a favorite of mine.
The referenced quote is from legendary Alabama Football Coach, Bear Bryant. It seems Bear Bryant was making a commercial for the long defunct South Central Bell and the script had him tell how he encouraged his players to keep in touch with their families. The last line was to be “Have you called your Mama today?” and Coach Bryant ad libbed the final line “I sure wish I could call mine.”
For the last few years before she died, as Mama’s dementia progressed, it was not possible to talk to her on the phone and I have missed hearing her voice. For even as she declined her voice stayed strong most of the time and she sounded like the Mama I remembered.
And so, Sunday when I celebrate my 72nd birthday, I will miss that call and the card and the telling of the story of the day I was born.
Call your Mama! I wish I could call mine.
Peace and Love,
Linda
Musings of This Old Girl 