Humor 5/9/99: Just Inspirational Mother Stories

Hi everyone,

Happy Mothers' Day, especially to you moms out there! I hope the rest
of you gave your mom a call, took her out to lunch, or did something
special.

For those of you in the LA area, one cool town to visit is Solvang.
It's about 2.5 hours north of LA, off of the 101. It's a quaint,
Norwegian-like town. All the shops off the main road have that
Swiss-looking architecture. It looks like they have lots of restaurants
and shops with a European flavor. It's a place I want to go back and
really explore.

This weekend I only drove through the town. A group of us officers and
directors from the Entrepreneurial Association went to Prof. Cockrum's
ranch in Solvang to plan out all of next year's events. For those of
you who don't go to Anderson, Prof. Bill Cockrum is an outstanding
professor in the field of entrepreneurship and finance. In fact, he is
rated the best entrepreneurship professor in the country by Business
Week. What really amazes me is that he donates all of his salary back
to the entrepreneurial activities at the school. He doesn't need to
work, because he was a very successful investment banker and corporate
officer.

This week's thought provoking question is: "If you could do any job in
the world for one day, what would it be?"

This week, instead of having a piece of humor, I will just have
inspirational stories involving our moms. The first poem I first sent
out two years ago for Mother's Day. Members from the drama team at my
church in Boston acted this poem out in a pantomime. It was really
touching and I asked someone from the team to send me the words. The
second story is from the Chicken Soup series, and the third one is from
Ethel Lai.

Enjoy!

-Josh.
__________________________________________

When You Thought I wasn't Looking

When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw you hang my first painting on
the refrigerator, and I wanted to paint another one.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw you feed a stray cat, and I
thought it was good to be kind to animals.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw you make my favorite cake just
for me, and I knew that little things are special things.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I heard you say a prayer, and I
believed there is a God I could always talk to.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I felt you kiss me goodnight, and I
felt loved.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw tears come from your eyes, and
I learned that sometimes things hurt, but, it's all right to cry.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw that you cared, and I wanted to
be everything that I could be.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I looked... and wanted to say thanks
for all the things I saw when you thought I wasn't looking.

--David Walls
_________________________________________

Steeped with Meaning

My mom and I sat in the small college cafe with out large mugs of
something that smelled like lemon and tasted like home. We were
catching up on the past four months of our lives and the hours just
weren't long enough. Sure, we had talked on the phone and occasionally
written. But the calls were long distance, and it was rare to find a
moment when my roommate wasn't waiting for the phone or my younger
brother or sister weren't waiting for my mom. So while we knew of each
other's experiences, we had not yet dissected them. As we discussed her
new job, and my latest paper, my new love, and her latest interview, I
leaned back into my cushion and thought: I always knew when she became
my mother, but when had she become my friend?

As far back as I can remember my mom was always the first that I came to
with every tear and every laugh. When I lost a tooth and when I found a
friend, when I fell from my bike, and when I got back on it, she was
there. She never judged me; she let me set my own expectations. She
was proud when I succeeded and supportive when I didn't. She always
listened; she seemed to know when I was asking for advice and when I
just needed a good cry. She multiplied my excitement with her own and
divided my frustrations with her empathy and understanding. When she
picked me up from school, she always asked about my day. And I remember
one day asking about hers. I think I was a little surprised that she
had so much to say. We rarely had late night talks (because she was
already asleep), nor early morning ones (because I was not yet up), but
in between the busy hours of our filled days, we found the time to fill
each other's ears with stories and hearts with love. She slowly shared
more and more of her own life with me, and that made me feel more open
with her. We shared experiences and hopes, frustrations and fears.
Learning that she still had blocks to build and to tumble made me more
comfortable with my own. She made me feel that my opinions were never
immature and my thoughts never silly. What surprises me now is not that
she always remembered to tell me "sweet dreams", but that she never
forgot to tell me that she believed in me. When she started going
through some changes in her life, I had the opportunity to tell her that
I believed in her too.

My mother had always been a friend. She had given me her heart in its
entirety; but her soul, she divulged in pieces, when she knew that I was
ready.

I sat across from the woman who had given me my life and then shared
hers with me. Our mugs were empty, but our hearts were full. We both
knew, that tomorrow she'd return to the bustle of Los Angeles and I'd
remain in the hustle of New Haven. I know that we are both growing and
learning. Yet, we continue to learn about each other and grow closer.
Our relationship was like the tea we had sipped, mixed with honey and
lemon, the longer it steeped, the better it tasted.

from A Second Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul
Copyright 1998 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen and Kimberly
Kirberger
_________________________________________

THE MEANEST MOTHER IN THE WORLD.......

We had the meanest mother in the whole world! While other kids ate
candy for breakfast, we had to have cereal, eggs, and toast. When
others had a Pepsi and a Twinkie for lunch, we had to eat sandwiches.
And you can guess our mother fixed us a dinner that was different from
other kids had too.

Mother insisted on knowing where we were at all times. You'd think we
were convicts in a prison. She had to know who our friends were, and
what we were doing with them. She insisted that if we said we would be
gone for an hour, we would be gone for an hour or less.

We were ashamed to admit it, but she had the nerve to break the "Child
Labor Laws" by making us work. We had to wash the dishes, make the
beds, learn to cook, vacuum the floor, do laundry, and all sorts of
cruel jobs. I think she would lay awake at night thinking of more
things for us to do.

She always insisted on us telling the truth the whole truth, and nothing
but the truth. By the time we were teenagers, she could read our minds,
and life was really tough.

She wouldn't let our friends just honk the horn when they drove up.
They had to come up to the door so she could meet them. While everyone
else could date when they were 12 or 13, we had to wait until we were
16.

Because of our mother we missed out on lots of things other kids
experienced. None of us have ever been caught shoplifting, vandalizing
other's property, or ever arrested for any crime. It was all her fault.

We never got drunk, took up smoking, stayed out all night, or a million
other things other kids did.

Sundays were reserved for church, and we never missed once. We knew
better than to ask to spend the night with a friend on Saturdays.

Now that we have left home, we are all God-fearing, educated, honest
adults. We are doing our best to be mean parents just like our Mom was.

The world just doesn't have enough mean moms anymore.

GOD BLESS ALL OF OUR MOM'S LIVING OR DECEASED...
WE LOVE THEM AND THANK THEM FOR BEING SO MEAN TO US.....
--
_____________________________________

Joshua Li
431 S. Burnside Ave. #12 B
Los Angeles CA 90036
(323)936-8476
Permanent Email: joshli@post.harvard.edu
http://personal.anderson.ucla.edu/joshua.li/