For Anna

My father always said he didn’t believe in celebrating Mother’s Day because it was invented by the greeting card manufacturers.

This isn’t really true, of course, as Wikipedia will tell you, but apparently the real inventor, Anna Jarvis, would have agreed with him; as she wrote (also courtesy of Wikipedia):

A printed card means nothing except that you are too lazy to write to the woman who has done more for you than anyone in the world. And candy! You take a box to Mother—and then eat most of it yourself.

I’ve always felt a bit politically incorrect admitting that I really don’t care about Mother’s Day; that if my children don’t send me a card or if my husband doesn’t wish me a happy day (which he hasn’t) it really doesn’t bother me.

It’s just an ordinary day for me, except that I do think about Anna Jarvis. She started trying to establish a special Mother’s Day in 1907, in honor of her own mother; and, even though women couldn’t even vote yet, she somehow got Congress to make it official in 1914. But no one ever gave her the dreaded cards or candy for the 34 Mother’s Days that followed until she died, blind and broke in a Pennsylvania mental hospital. She had no children.

So if you were thinking of wishing me a happy mother’s day (which you probably weren’t), send best wishes up to poor Anna instead.

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This entry was posted in Celebrations, festivals, memorials, My so-called-life and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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