On this day in 1948 one of the most important figures in modern pop culture - my mum! - was born. Now, I can already hear you asking: what role exactly does your mother (whom I've never even heard of until just now) play in pop culture? Well, she gave birth to me, your Blogmaster of Ceremonies, for one...Also, she early on instilled in me a deep sense of kitsch, for which I am eternally grateful. Had she been a tasteful minimalist there's very little chance this blog would have come about, as I'd be far too busy now standing around and smugly admiring my surfaces to write it. As it is, she (like me) is an exuberant maximalist, and therefore as seemingly invigorated by clutter as I must be.
I have no doubt that my acute interest in everything arose from our early trips to the library; while she was signing out Harlequins by the dozen she always knew where to find me - busily memorizing the encyclopedia. When she struggled as a single mother to keep body and soul together (even while occasionally on welfare) I never once felt that myself; usually I was too busy preparing my nightly skit based on the 6 O'Clock News, which would be enacted for her enlightertainment every evening promptly at 6:31.
Still, the greatest gift anyone can give is unconditional love, which is the one thing I have never lacked, no matter how little money was around; as cluttered as our lives are there's always been room for me in both her heart and her home, which remains to this day the only thing I know for certain.
Which is not to say we haven't tested each other over the years... I know it may be hard for some of you to believe, but I'm actually a monster in person, and she's been living in Kelowna so long she can occasionally make Phyllis Schlafly sound like a liberal which, to someone who makes Nancy Pelosi sound like Phyllis Schlafly, can be a trial for each of us to deal with at times.
Yet our unconditional love for each other (not to mention the occasional brisk bit of shopping) soon makes everything alright.
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6 comments:
"smugly admiring my surfaces to write it. As it is, she (like me) is an exuberant maximalist, and therefore enervated by clutter"
My dictionary says "enervated" means "weakened"
Is that what you meant?
Feel free to delete this message.
Gotta run and smugly enjoy the things that I've broken my back to make the way I like them which I apparently have to apologize for for the rest of my life. Not that I'm bitter.
Also: Happy Birthday, Ms. Currie!
Actually, I think Michael IS enervated by clutter. *grin*
"Enervated by clutter" is the ultimate Freudian slip; I meant to say "energized" or "invigorated" and it will be changed forthwith.
Come to think of it, clutter to the degree I've managed it is enervating, and I'm in the process of simplifying slightly. My apartment has become something of a chi sink.
(Otherwise, no offense intended; still, it got three comments, so it was worth offending the minimalists in the crowd.) ~ MSM
Happy Birthday to your Mom Dude!
LOL
QM
Happy Birthday Ms. Currie!
Beautiful words there, Michael.
Javier.
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