Mother’s Day a Time for Memories

When I was seven years old, my family lived in a suburban neighborhood in Ledyard, Connecticut. I remember that on one summer day, our neighbors had a big picnic in their backyard that we all attended. There were kids of all ages at the picnic and somehow I cajoled some older kids into lending me a baseball glove and letting me play catch with them.

Anne Robbins Eason with her young sons Greg and Jeff in Hingham, Massachusetts, circa 1963. Photo by Chuck Eason.

I was so proud as I caught the ball in the little leather glove and threw it back to the older boys. I tried calling out to my mom to get her attention but she was in a conversation with a neighbor lady. If she could see what a big boy I was, tossing around the old horsehide, this picnic would be perfect.

“Mom,” I yelled to get her attention. She turned and looked at me right about the same time that I looked back at the game of toss and caught the baseball flush on the nose. Smack!

The next half hour was a messy blur of blood and tears as my mom scooped me up and took me into our neighbor’s kitchen. She calmly washed my face with a cool wet rag until I stopped sobbing. I remember I was crying more out of embarrassment than actual pain, and the last thing I wanted to do was go back out to the picnic. I can’t remember what she said but she must have used the right words because she almost always knew the right thing to say in those situations.

Of course, my mother’s words were not always meant to soothe, and she could be downright blunt and brutally honest when the situation called for it.

One time about ten years ago, she was called for jury duty. She was chosen as an alternate, to come in off the bench should anything happen to disqualify a starting juror. Sure enough, one of the jurors was disqualified midway through the trial and the judge asked my mom to be sworn in.

“Do you have any reason to be biased for or against the defendant?” the judge asked my mom. She answered no.

“Do you have any reason to be biased for or against his lawyer?” Again she answered no.

“Do you have any reason to be biased for or against the prosecuting attorney?” he finally asked her.

“Why yes, your honor, I am biased against him.”

The entire courtroom snapped to attention and listened intently to find out what my mom could possibly have against a member of the District Attorney’s Office (a man who shall remain nameless for the sake of this article).

“I work at Blockbuster Video in Boone,” she explained. “He always brings his movies back late and always gives the employees a hard time about paying his late fees. And he never rewinds the movies either.”

That was all that judge needed to hear, and with a wave of his hand he excused my mother from jury duty. From what I have heard, the prosecuting attorney’s face turned redder than usual but he became a more conscientious movie renter from that day forward.

This weekend will mark the first Mother’s Day for me without my mother around. She died from complications from pancreatitis last December after being ill for a long time. People who have experienced seeing a loved one pass after a long illness have a different grieving process than those who lose a loved one suddenly. There is a certain sense of relief that comes with death after an extended illness, then a feeling of guilt brought on by having that sense of relief.

With an extended illness, survivors often feel like they are more prepared to carry on without that special someone in their lives. But I imagine most of them found out, like I did, that they weren’t prepared at all.

My mother wasn’t perfect…none of them are, I guess. Her main fault was that she didn’t take care of herself as well as she could have. But she loved her family and friends with all of her heart, and never wavered in supporting them in their endeavors, even when she could plainly see the quixotic side of them ceaselessly fighting windmills.

She was also a staunch member of the Democratic Party, working at the Triplett polling precinct at the Stewart Simmons Volunteer Fire Station. She would have enjoyed seeing how our state’s late primary was finally paying off by being pivotal in this year’s Democratic presidential nomination. She loved seeing the underdog have its moment in the sun.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. We miss you and will keep you in our hearts for the rest of our days.