Oh for a memory like dear old moms
by James Snyder
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In growing up one of the outstanding things in my relationship with my mother had to do with her memory. She could remember everything.
All I had to do was ask dear old mom and she knew the answer. She knew everything. No matter the topic, she had an opinion about it, which truly amazed me as a young person.
Before I went to school, my mother was my entire world. From the time I got up in the morning until she tucked me in bed at night, she was the master of my world. Whatever I could do, she was the one who allowed me to do it.
Looking back, I can remember when my father got home from work in the evening he gave my mother a little break from looking after me and my brother and sister. If memory serves me correctly, my father watched us by lying on the couch snoring. I never could figure out how he could do that but it was his way of watching us and helping mom.
As a young person, anything I wanted I had to requisition it from dear old mom. The thing that always amazed me was that she always had what I needed. I have often wondered how she could do that. But then, she was mom.
My weekly allowance came from my mother. It took me a long time to realize the money for my allowance came from my father. I always believe mom had all the money there was.
I remember coming home from the second grade with homework to do that just baffled me. All I had to do was ask mom and she could explain it to me like nobody else could. Mothers are like that.
They know everything and remember everything. What my mother knew only my mother could know. It was as if she could read my mind. It was as if she had eyes in the back of her head.
It was so bad that I could not get away with anything. Believe me; I tried very hard to get away with something. For some reason my mother knew what I was going to do days before I actually thought about doing it.
I am not sure who is credited with designing the first memory board for computers, but I know who designed the memory board for people. I firmly believe that mothers were the first computer designed and wired by God. Why in the world do you think they call it the “motherboard?” It is no accident that they come up with this term.
My mother had a tremendous memory. This is the difference between mothers and fathers. Mothers cannot forget anything and fathers cannot remember anything. Together they make an invincible team for raising children.
It was not until I became a teenager that a little click developed between my mother and me. I began to realize that my memory did not always harmonize with hers on some issues. As I got older, the harmony was less and less.
For example. My mother would tell me, “You must be home by 10 o’clock.”
At least, that is what she said she told me after the fact. When I came in at 11 o’clock, she reminded me of what she told me. For the life of me, I could not remember her telling me to be home by 10 o’clock.
“I told you to clean up your room.”
Searching my memory board, I could not find any indication that she told me this. I am not saying that she did not; I am just saying that our memories did not coincide on a variety of issues when I became a teenager.
What struck me about my mother was she could remember conversation she had with me three years ago word for word. As I get older, I began to doubt the accuracy of her memory. The problem with that was, I had no memory of anything and so I had to rely upon her memory.
Now that I am a parent, it is apparent to me that memory is a rather funny thing. I am not sure that my mother was in this category, but my memory is of such a nature that I can remember things that never took place. Not only that, I can describe it in detail.
As a teenager I remember coming into the room and my mother sitting there looking out the window with a little smile on her face.
“What are you thinking about?”
She just looked at me, smiled and said, “Oh, I was just remembering some things.” Then she turned and looked out the window again and I left her to her memories.
In celebrating Mother’s Day, I cannot help but think of the many wonderful memories each mother cherishes. Their children will always be children. No matter how old their children get, they will always be their little babies.
Memory is a delightful thing and sometimes can be very selective. I am sure, when a mother engages in the fine art of memory, they are all good memories.
Solomon was probably thinking about his mother when he wrote, “Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her. Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all” (Proverbs 31:28-29 KJV).
You cannot put a price on a good memory.
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