You did it again. A simply delightful, wonderful piece which I am sending to my attorney son who wears suits and ties but when he was 16 we couldn't see his face for the hair and beard and who hung around with other hippies and smoked pot and now all of them have doctor's degrees and wives and children and my son loves Shakespeare and may actually write that sonnet. Garrison, you brighten our lives. Blessings on you, from a fellow Lutheran, Ron Soderquist

Not all of us have mothers who loved us. Sure, they cleaned our poopy diapers

but that comes with the territory when you have a baby. Simple biological

fact. Some of us have mothers who completely ignored, neglected, or abused

us. For years, I would actually get queasy when trying to pick out a card

for my mother. None of the gooey sentiments really applied. I was so

relieved when they came out with cards that simply said "Happy Mother's

Day", so I could go through the ritual without it being a complete farce.

My mother is dead now, and I don't miss her at all.

The great GK gives us iambic hexameter

as an example of iambic pentameter, stop the

world, I want to get off. But more to the point,

I enjoyed the article very much even though I

don't really identify with it. I can't imagine

forgetting my mother's birthday (April 10, 1910)

or, for that matter, her deathday (October 4,

1957), or the circumstances that led to the

latter event, which I won't go into here. I was

sixteen when she died and I turned sixty-five

last month. I think about her frequently and

how much she would have enjoyed the three

grandchildren and the six great-grandchildren

she never got to know. I'm sure I must have

disappointed her from time to time when she was

living; I've tried very hard not to do it since

her death. I don't mean to be maudlin, I just

don't relate to cheese sandwiches being delivered

to drunken orgies in the pasture. Maybe it's a

Minnesota thing. More power to you, GK -- guilt

(especially in advance) is a great motivator.

GK said nary a word about cheese sandwiches and

drunken orgies in an open field. That was from

another letter writer. Sorry. (Does this mean

it's NOT a Minnesota thing?)

Mr. Keillor has touched a nerve in some people, as well as a funny bone in others. BBD broke my heart, thank you so much for the lovely and loving description of your mother!

Although my son certainly did not have a conventional upbringing, I do think I was a good mother (unlike some of the moms these sad letter-writers have described), and to prove it I have sent GK's latest off to my son in college. He always used to like listening to PHC with me, before he became a teenager and contemptuous. We'll see what comes of it, what with all that college tuition and those creative writing classes!

That column made my day. Except for the rest of the world thinking my kids are ordinary, which is true but would hurt their feelings, I absolutely loved every word.

And I, like most moms, did each and every thing you listed, and still do.

And yes, we want SOMETHING BACK, Kiddoa!! For you who are not able to write a sonnet, then how about a story about what WE did that makes you NOT ordinary?

Let's hear it kids, any of you over 16.

We might not be around when you get to think like the great Garrison Keillor. And you know you are a sucky generation so do this so that some of you, you know who you are, will make the next generation. GK knows that you are ruining the reputation of all child-bearing. He knows that word is getting around about your collective ingratitude. No kidding. No joke.

Write us Something and edit it at least once. And make sure you remember EVERYTHING Good for once. Wow GK< who knew this was such a hard job, great essay!

I don't buy into Mother's Day or Father's Day. My parents raised me because it was their desire to do so. It was in no way "selfless"--they were passing on their genes. I never made any request to be brought into existence and do not consider existence to be so clearly, undeniably preferable to non-existence (after all, how could we possibly know? Or be objective in the matter?).

It's as though someone handed me a Cartier watch one day, out of the blue, and then tried to tell me that I should be oh-so-grateful to them and thank them profusely for it. Maybe it's nice, and other people would adore it. But I don't care much for watches or expensive jewelry, and I never asked for it. He'd have to just accept the shrug of my shoulders, because a Thank You would be a lie.

From your essay about mom:

***********

The president is a fake, too, but we still pay our taxes. And it's time you did something nice for your mother.

***********

Can't you liberals just have FUN anymore? This was a wonderfully written essay but you totally ruined by making even YOUR MOTHER a political hack.

all well and good - and true as all heck!!

BUT - I still want the chocolates and flowers and dinner and jewelry and.....

you get the idea

Garrison, what will you send to the Mothers of your kids that you dumped for a younger woman?

Just wondering

-- Should be working

PermalinkWednesday, April 26, 2006 1:02:33 PM

my son disowned me for telling he needed to show me some respect when he called or dont bother calling cause i was tired of hearing how terrible i am until he wants or needs something like a place to stay with his new girlfriend and her kid and the one they have on the way

How does Garrison Keillor nail it coming and going? He's right about my Mom and right about my kids. Charming as barbed-wire - why didn't I think of that? Okay, I normally do try to get a pretty mushy card, and I usually cry in the grocery store aisle, but maybe this year I'll try to do something better. Now how did you write a sonnet...?