Writing Through Cancer

My daughter Claire sent me a link to a You Tube video this morning, a fake interview for “the toughest job in the world.”  The interviewer named the position as “Director of Operations,” and little by little revealed the requirements, each more onerous than the one before it.  Interviewees reacted with disbelief, surprise and “no way,” until the spoof concluded with the revelation that the position was actually “mother.”  The surprise and disbelief melted away into teary-eyed words of gratitude from the interviewees for their mothers!

As fun as the video clip is to watch, it drives home the enormous responsibility that comes with motherhood, all the daily tasks that are done in support of a child’s well-being and development.  I remember some of the yeoman’s work that was undertaken each day, the sleepless nights, the inability to do much more than collapse on the sofa once my daughters were put to bed, aware that there were still dishes to wash, laundry to be done, and somehow managing, despite the fatigue, to rise from the couch and finish the tasks.

Those memories have been re-ignited not just by watching the video clip, but by having spent the past ten days in the company of my daughter, Elinor, and her two and a half year old daughter.  The day begins early and from the moment Flora awakens, it’s nonstop activity until after she’s put to bed each night.  With two pre-school children, her sister Claire runs an even more frenetic schedule.  They know, full well now, what motherhood entails.  Now we all exchange “happy mother’s Day” greetings—they, in recognition of my contribution to their lives, and me, in appreciation of the mothers they have become.

It’s Mother’s Day this Sunday, and while you may be remembering or celebrating your mother offers many writing possibilities.

This week, step back from Hallmark’s flowery sentiments and remember your mother (or anyone who was like a mother to you) and the role she has played in your life.   What qualities or anecdotes best describe your mother?  How can you bring your mother’s character to life on the page?  What are some of your most important memories of your mother?

Of course, motherhood—the way we see and feel about our mothers—is complex.  Remember the poem, “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird,” by Wallace Stevens? In each stanza, the reader is offered something like a snapshot, all different but always, the word, “blackbird,” appearing in each.
I
Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the blackbird.

II
I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three blackbirds.

III
The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.
It was a small part of the pantomime…

One writing suggestion is to try imitating Stevens’ structure and write thirteen ways of looking at a mother (or motherhood) and see what happens.

Of course, mothers also give us advice, lots of it; some that we appreciate; some we don’t want to hear.  In a delightful essay entitled, “Advice from My Grandmother,” Alice Hoffman creates an unmistakable portrait of her grandmother, Lillie Lutkin, by offering the reader all the advice given to her by her:

Cook badly.  Even if you’re already a bad cook, make it worse.  Trust me, it’s easy.  Throw in anything you want.  Too much salt, too much pepper.  Feed him and see what he says.  A complaint means he’s thinking about himself, and always will.  A compliment means he’ll never make a living.  But a man who says, “Let’s go to a restaurant,” now he’s a real man.  Order expensive and see what he’s got to say then.

(In Family:  American Writers Remember Their Own, 1996).

We learn from our mothers lessons of love and life, many of them not appreciated until we’re much older.  What a mother teaches us can become material for a character portrait as Julia Kasdorf creates in the poem, “What I Learned from my Mother.”

I learned from my mother how to love
the living, to have plenty of vases on hand
in case you have to rush to the hospital
with peonies cut from the lawn, black ants
still stuck to the buds. I learned to save jars
large enough to hold fruit salad for a whole
grieving household, to cube home-canned pears
and peaches, to slice through maroon grape skins
and flick out the sexual seeds with a knife point…

(From: Sleeping Preacher, University of Pittsburgh Press, 1992)

Today and this week, write about mothers, yours, your mother’s or anyone who has played the role of mother in your life.  Write from whatever idea or memory comes to mind.  Remember your mother in as many different ways as you can.

And to those of you who are mothers like I am, I wish you a very happy Mother’s Day.