Musical

Yesterday I called my mother to wish her a happy mother's day.  I am so fortunate to have the mother I do.  As we spoke we broke out in song singing one of our favorite's "Somewhere"  from West Side Story.  Every time I hear that song I think of mother.  I believe she would sing to me to bring me comfort as a child but then it became a familiar favorite.  My mother knows her music.  She recently had surgery, which I believe is the first time she has ever needed anesthesia in her life.  Before she was asleep, the surgery team asked her request for music.  She said Beethoven would be nice.  They started the procedure and she was moving slightly so the physician asked for more anesthetic at which time she said out loud but with her eyes closed, "I said Beethoven, not Mozart."  then fell asleep.  The surgeon had to know and at the end of the procedure he checked and sure enough it was a Mozart CD playing during the procedure.

I am grateful for mother and her talent for music.  She certainly instilled in me a desire to always have music a part of my life.

More on mother

I have included a few photos that remind me of my mother.  On Sunday afternoon's, essentially being a single child, I would reach boredom fairly quick.  My parents would come to the rescue but among so many other responsibilities my mother would get down on the floor and build a scene.  We would get down these toys that we had for years.  We stored them on a would board with pegs.  There were 88 pegs and 87 toys each with a hole in the bottom.  We lost one at some point and ever since then we never lost another.  My mom made sure of this.  Anyway, the scene would always involved a plot.  Mom was often the bad guy.  She would always put it on fire too.  She would take a flash light and colored cellophane, turn the light on and wall-a!  All of the sudden the city was on fire and the game came to life.  Ironically, in my profession, I work a lot with the development of children and I have heard of a new therapy called "Floor Therapy"  Someone took what my mom did spontaneously and has identified it as therapy and probably has earned some extra cash with a book explaining floor therapy.  The photo I include that reminds me of this is the top photo showing a train scene built for my boys.  My favorite is how the geotrax track travels through the Batman cave.  Mom the tradition lives on.

The other photos I include because they remind me of her artistic side.  My mother is a fabulous artist.  I have in my office a picture of a steam engine painted on drift wood.  I love that painting.  It brings back so many memories.  She always wanted to obtain drift wood so she could paint.  She painted an old large milk jug yellow and it had white flowers on the side and top.  It was beautiful.  She painted rocks and sometimes would glue eyes on them.  She painted all of our porcelain Christmas decorations.  She would sit down with me each holiday and give me a chance to paint them as well.  She maintained this large coloring book of animals like deer and stories like the Christmas Carol.  I did not get to touch these but I loved seeing her pull them out.  I have married an artist as well and I think I was in part attracted to her because my upbringing and my mothers interest in the humanities.  She played classical music in the home.  She was wonderful on the violin and she often shared her talents teaching friends in the community at no charge.  The photos are of a small part of our house my wife has used colored glass to decorate and then two photos of Shoshone Falls, Twin Falls Idaho.