Mother's Day

Yesterday was Mother's Day, and here are my two Mother's Day presents.  I emailed this picture to my cousin Ted in New York, and he wrote back, "Where did you get them?  I'll take two."  I replied, "They take 27 years to grow. You can share mine."

This year they had the perfect plan - he bought and marinated salmon steaks, she bought and cut up a pile of vegetables - vegetables! - and they cooked supper together for the three of us.  "You rock," said my daughter, handing me a home-made card.  There was much teasing about which was the preferred child - I am still recovering from Sam's gigantic fifth tattoo, but on the other hand, Anna still smokes. So though they are close to perfection, they are NOT PERFECT YET.  Unlike their mother.

After dinner, the end to a great Sunday for these kids: a new episode of "The Simpsons" interspersed with the hockey game, Pittsburgh winning.  Then a "King of the Hill" where Stewie finally murders his mother, and then "Family Guy," which cut half an hour off my time watching the British drama "Cranford."  I sacrificed.  But when I at last switched over to PBS, we all saw the last half hour of "Cranford."  "That's Dumbledore!" they shouted, seeing one great British actor, and "Delores Umbridge!" seeing another.  Harry Potter also rocks.

Despite the frilly caps and fussy dialogue, despite the fact that this English village of more than a hundred and fifty years ago could have been the moon, they began to watch.  These children grew up swimming confidently in the murky water of popular culture, but infusions of the other stuff got in - a museum here, a concert there.  When Sam was courting a dancer, she asked him what his favourite classical music was.  "'Romeo and Juliet' by Prokofiev," he answered confidently, and the deal was sealed.  Now they can add to the list in their heads entitled "Boring Stuff that Mum Likes" the magnificent silence of Judy Dench mourning her lost love. 

We hugged and they went back to their own lives.  And I was left as thankful as it is possible to be.  Two lively thoughtful young people are newly out in the world.   I am proud to share them with you.