A DocuDharma Tradition
I tease my mother by calling her Emily after Emily Gilmore both because overall my family reminds me very much of the Gilmores and because she’s never met a brand name she didn’t like whereas I’m perfectly content to buy generic.
I thank her among many things for a thorough grounding in the domestic and other arts.
Mom teaches first grade and is actually famous in a quiet sort of way. The kind parents brag about and angle their kids for though she’s won national awards too. Of course I owe everything I know about educating to her and among my own peers I’m considered an asskicking trainer.
She also insisted we learn to perform routine self maintenance, little things like laundry and ironing, machine and hand mending. basic cooking. Of course she always indulged us with trips to museums and zoos, made sure we got library cards, did the usual bus driver thing to swim practice, had this huge second career as a Brownie/Girl Scout Leader for my sister.
At one point when I was old enough for it to make an impression she took her Masters of Fine Arts in Art of all things, so I know a little Art History with Far Eastern. I understand how to bang out a copper pot and make silver rings because she took me to class once or twice. She liked stained glass so much that she and dad made several pieces (you use a soldering iron and can cut yourself pretty bad so it’s a macho thing too). They also did silk screening which taught me a lot about layout and graphic arts.
But she always liked fabric arts and in addition to a framed three dimensional piece in the living room, there are Afghans and rugs and scarves and pot holders and wash cloths and hats and quilts and dolls.
And the training kits and manuals for her mentorship programs, and the adaptations and costumes for the annual first and fifth grade play. Did I mention she plays 3 instruments, though mostly piano?
She touch types too.
So to Emily, a woman of accomplishment and refinement, Happy Mother’s Day.