Daily I express gratitude to Mama by striving to do so in words and deeds, always mindful of what she was and, in my heart, still is: All mother — all the time.
Even though my mother has been in the Lord’s eternal embrace twenty-five years, daily I say to her picture, “Thanks, Mama.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “Men are what their mothers made them.” Pondering his words, I ask myself, “If I am what Mama made me, how did she make me?” She did it by being all mother — all the time. To honor her on Mother’s Day, I offer a few of the many thanks, too numerous to number.
“Thanks, Mama, for teaching me the true meaning of forgiveness.” In her devoutly Christian mind, justice in this world couldn’t exist without Hell. She taught me that, if God forgave his erring children freely — with no consequences, they wouldn’t be deterred from repeating their sins, and like Him, she administered punishment when I misbehaved. Disobedience brought painful consequences, but once the punishment was over, so were any hard feelings; she loved me as much as ever, as does God, who never stops loving His children.
“Thanks, Mama, for developing my strong work ethic.” She taught me that winners tote their own loads; losers don’t. She despised government largesse that does nothing but reward people for doing nothing.
“Thanks, Mama, for teaching me love of country.” As dirt-poor Italian immigrants, her parents came to America and found work on a Mississippi Delta cotton plantation, where they performed menial, back-breaking labor for pennies a day in unbearably hot, humid conditions.
They saved those pennies, and in time, bought their own farm, built a home, and educated their children. For those blessings, Mama’s love for this country was limitless. When I returned from overseas military duty, she cried for joy, not only because I was home all in one piece, but also because she was so proud to see her son in uniform, having completed his military duty to the United States of America.
“Thanks, Mama, for teaching me that courage is the chief virtue, and cowardice the worst of sins.” To her, toughness was a virtue. If I got a black eye in a fistfight, she wanted to know if I bestowed a reciprocal black eye.
After a failed cotton crop, I told her that facing another year of farming was too tough for me. Instantly, she repeated one of her favorite axioms: “Those who take the easy way out end up in the same place: out.” I thought about those truthful words, and the next year set about doing what I loved most: working the land.
Like all men who strive to live honorable lives, despite inevitable setbacks, I am what my mother made me. America’s first president, George Washington, knew that he was what his mother made him, and said so: “My mother was the most beautiful woman I ever saw. All I am I owe to my mother.”
Daily I express gratitude to Mama by striving to do so in words and deeds, always mindful of what she was and, in my heart, still is: All mother — all the time.
Jimmy Reed is an Oxford, Mississippi resident, Ole Miss and Delta State University alumnus, Vietnam Era Army Veteran, former Mississippi Delta cotton farmer and ginner, author, and retired college teacher.
This story is a selection from Jimmy Reed’s latest book, entitled The Jaybird Tales.
Copies, including personalized autographs, can be reserved by notifying the author via email (.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)).
Even though my mother has been in the Lord’s eternal embrace twenty-five years, daily I say to her picture, “Thanks, Mama.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “Men are what their mothers made them.” Pondering his words, I ask myself, “If I am what Mama made me, how did she make me?” She did it by being all mother — all the time. To honor her on Mother’s Day, I offer a few of the many thanks, too numerous to number.
