“But first and foremost, I remember Mama”, begins the 1948 play and popular 1950s television show by John Van Druten, I Remember Mama, about the ups and downs of a Norwegian family living in San Francisco. Every time I read the play, see the movie, or remember the television shows a happy warm feeling fills my being. It could have been any cultural background because it was the family that we related to. It is the solidarity of the family that toasts the soul. It didn’t matter what adversity they faced. They somehow solved it together and in the end it was with a great sense of love.

Today, “first and foremost” I am remembering my mother. If she were still here we’d be celebrating her 92nd birthday! She left us in 1991 and I still can’t bring myself to say that she’s “dead.” By definition that means no longer alive and yet she is so alive in my heart. So present in my life. A day doesn’t go by that I don’t hear her words echoing in my ears or her magnificent imaginary singing voice filling the strains of some music I am listening to. As I pass through the rooms of our home I see her artwork adorning our walls or a piece of sculpture on a table and smile at her living presence.

It is accepted convention today to complain about the dysfunction of one’s family. It is so hard for me to relate to the discussions, even the ones from my own children discussing their childhood, because my view, my perception, of my childhood are memories so glorious that I choose to glory in them. Don’t get me wrong. My family’s experiences were not storybook rosy but it was the way they dealt with the adversities that made memories to laugh at and to cherish.

I am reading a book right now, The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein, in which an important mantra is put forth: That which you manifest is before you.” I see now that I was blessed with a family who always kept the high goal in front of them. Who always saw the light at the end of the tunnel. My mother didn’t take much to pity parties and certainly wouldn’t let us indulge in them, much less the blame game.

My mother was/is something else. A strong courageous woman pretty typical of her day. She was also a talented and beautiful woman. (I so wanted to post her photo on this blog but our IT administrator is out of the office today and I couldn’t get the scanner to work.) When I say she was typical of her day what I mean is she set aside her promising singing career to be the “woman behind the man” and to raise a family. Both of which she did very successfully.

My memories of my mother are very much idealized because 50s children were pretty much sheltered from the fears and concerns of finances, job and social status and marital relationships. Perhaps that’s what preserves the happy childhood memories. It wasn’t until my grownup years when I sat for long hours with my mother while she was ill that we talked about some of those feelings and fears that we all share. By that time I had some life experience and perspective and was able to understand her sacrifices…and I could be grateful.

Yes, I knew some of the stories of my mom’s life before she and dad were married. I knew about the reviews of her singing comparing her to Dinah Shore and I knew about her aspirations to be an artist. I remember her singing around the piano with her good friend Rosemary Clooney and hearing Rosie ask her why she stopped singing and she very simply said she had other things to do. If there was any regret she didn’t manifest it. (”That which you manifest is before you.”)

I do remember her pursuit of art which, I am sure, along with her love of music forms the base of my love of art…and music. Art, once the technique was learned, was something she could do from home. She was always taking painting and sculpture classes and once perfected her oils and sculpted clay became beautiful manifestations of her creative thought. It wasn’t unusual to hear her singing as she painted with our dog, Brandy, lying beside her easel  as her beloved audience of one.

There are so many more memories, but for today I raise a toast to you, Mama because first and foremost, I remember and love YOU.