The original lyrics were written in 1915 by Howard Johnson and the song is titled Mother: It turns out that Howard Johnson also wrote, “I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream for Ice Cream”.
M Is for the Many things she gave me,
O Means only that she’s growing Old.
T Is for the Tears she shed to save me,
H Is for her Heart of purest gold.
E Is for her Eyes with love light shining,
R Means Right and Right she’ll always be.
Put them all together, They spell MOTHER
A word that means the world to me.
The picture with this post is of some flowers for Mother.
This is a repost of a post that was written several years ago. It was written for my mother, but also for my mother-in-law. My mother has passed away, while my mother-in-law is still kicking. Actually, Gene, my mother-in-law really owns this post. Her three lovely daughters grew up singing this song to her, much to her chagrin. Maybe this parody of the Mother song that I found on the internet, is closer to what she hears when the original lyrics are sung:
M is for the many things she gave me
O is for the other things she gave me
T is for the things she gave me
H is for her things, which she gave me
E is for everything she gave me
R is for the rest of the things she gave me
Anne asked me not to repost this post for fear of the pain that it might cause her mother. I only heard her childhood guilt speaking. In truth it is I who should feel guilty, because it is my naked ambition that drives this post. Informed readers might ask, how is this different? Since, ’09 this post has been a gold mine of blog hits. Every April it begins. About now, it begins to crest and come Sunday, interest will crash. That is why now is when I should act. I just did a google search looking for the author of this song. I typed in, “M is for the many things she gave me lyrics” and RegenAxe is the number one website returned. I feel lucky. Thank you, Mother.
To all of the forlorn sons and daughters that have found the previous post, the poem MOTHER is in the public domain. It is an old troupe, much copied, but it is free to use. If you are emailing your mom, I cannot compete with the simple cut and paste. If you are willing to go the extra mile, I offer this advice. Say, “I love you Mom.” Praise her. Say she looks nice, say she said something interesting. Tell her something you did that would make her proud. This last one is the toughest, but is likely the one that will make her the happiest on Mother’s Day.
Anne got up to use the bathroom and when she came back to bed, I asked her what time was it? She answered, “Dawn, dawn of the dead, ROAR!” Then she tried to eat my brains. Happy Easter to you too, honey. I don’t think that she was making any religious statement, no zombie Jesus crack anyway. I think her commentary had more to do with the state of lethargy that pervaded the household at that early morning hour.
Later, I went to Starbucks because we were out of coffee, I had forgotten to get some yesterday and today all of the grocery stores are closed for the Easter holiday. The unionized grocery stores are about the only keepers of this last vestige of the blue laws that once ruled Saint Louis. When we first moved to Saint Louis, over thirty years ago, almost everything was closed on Sunday. Now, except for Thanksgiving Day, Christmas Day and Easter Sunday, few stores are closed on Sunday. The few holdouts are mom and pop stores that as likely as not, just don’t want to work on Sunday.
I had to park and walk a couple of blocks to get to Starbucks. As I was walking along and passing the unusually long line of parked cars, I spied one with the following bumper sticker, “Jesus didn’t ride an Elephant”. I had to Google it, to decipher its meaning. Apparently, it is political. An elephant is the symbol for the Republican Party, while the donkey is the Democratic Party’s symbol. The Bible tells us that on Palm Sunday, Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey. Hence, Jesus didn’t ride an elephant. Read into it what you will.
The Post-Dispatch this morning featured a retrospective of Easter in Saint Louis. The most striking photo in the article was a 1948 picture of the sunrise service at the Muny. The amphitheater was full to the gills; all of its 11,000 seats were filled. They don’t do sunrise services at the Muny anymore, but they to offer dueling car shows on both the upper and lower Muny parking lots. We bicycled over there at the butt-crack on noon, a wee bit after sunrise.
On our way over to Forest Park, we cruised through a neighborhood that was inhabited by a giant six-foot rabbit, about Harvey sized. Chasing after this rodent of unusual size were three little kids, some armed with bow and arrows and one shouting, “Shoot him!” I hope that he wasn’t the real Easter Bunny.
We circled around the park and made our way to the upper Muny lot, by the least congested route. The upper lot is dedicated to classic cars and the lower lot hosts custom cars. What with our late and rather wet Spring the vehicle turnout was a little lower than in past years, but the day’s warm temperatures and bright skies made for an enjoyable afternoon. I got sunburned.
In addition to all of the interesting cars there were also some interesting people in the crowd. One young man wore a T-shirt with a picture of a T-Rex on it. The picture was captioned, “Licensed to carry small arms”. Anne overheard this conversation, “I can’t see him anywhere. There are too many old people here.” This man said this with a smile, but he was both older and grayer than us.