Beautiful

1961

The day dawned warm and clear, but I had been awake for ages. Going through my head were numerous songs and skits and other delights to be shared with Mother. And not just MY mother, but all of the 5th grade mothers that warm and wonderful day in May.

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Mrs. Franklin had rehearsed us by main force week after week, wasting not a minute on any nonsense. She was a General on a battlefield, and we were her minions. We said what she said for us to say, no more and no less. It was exhausting.

But on the day that dawned so brightly, I knew why the General had insisted. She wanted precision, and the only way to get it was to be the Brick Wall that would not move. Nobody ever moved Mrs. Franklin and we had long ago given up trying.

I dressed, and bounded down the stairs to the kitchen. The first sibling awake! Corn Flakes, milk, toast. I could barely choke them down in my haste, but must hurry in order to practice my speech one more time. For Mother would be there, and I wanted it to be right.

(Patrick Henry)
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You see, Mother was beautiful and today everyone would see it. No one else's mother was like my tall, slender, pretty mother (it didn't occur to me that my classmates saw her regularly and would ALREADY KNOW this). I grabbed up my books and fled. 

In the classroom, tables were beautifully set. Flowers had been displayed along with student-drawn illustrations of the Revolutionary War. All was ready for the Mother's Day Tea.

The ladies began arriving, chatting, smiling, glancing around at the lovely classroom. My mother wasn't one of them just yet, but she would be...it was getting awfully close to start time. I hovered near the door and kept watch. And then - 

Her heels 'click-clicked' down that hallway.
                   

                     

I threw myself toward my mother and grabbed her slender waistline. She bent to hug me and I could smell the loveliest scent. It emanated from her vicinity as she held my hand and walked through the door. I could have sworn somebody whistled.

The show began. The speeches and songs were perfect, the General directing (with smiles or subtle scowls) from her desk along the side. The food was consumed, the flowers given to the mothers, and then it was over. All the rehearsing, all the creating and anticipation came to a close, and was pronounced wonderful. 

My class never forgot that day of days. It was, I suppose, a pinnacle of elementary school. Perhaps nothing would seem quite so sweet again. But of all the memories of that day, one thought has stuck with me the most.

My mother sure knew how to make an Entrance.


See you along the way!
the SconeLady


P.S. One of our favorite speeches was the one by Patrick Henry in 1775. We all had it memorized, but only one (was it Wayne?) got to deliver it:

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace – but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!

photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/shesonherway/6156677907/">Sarah Shelmidine</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/">cc</a>

photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/wallyg/2557743086/">wallyg</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/">cc</a>