Happy Mother's Day 2021

Happy Mother’s Day. I don’t want to seem selfish, but this doesn’t seem like Mother’s Day to me. So, the non-selfish part of me (which is arguably what some would say is the smallest part) would like to wish ALL the mothers out there, Happy Mother’s Day.


Elaine is spending Mother’s Day in Iowa with her sister from a state in the South, two cousins and a cousin-in-law from Iowa, and an aunt that Elaine loves dearly and considers her to be Elaine’s second mother.


Elaine and I discussed spending last year’s Mother’s Day in Iowa, but the dreaded beervirus curtailed our plans. This year due to the dreaded beervirus and my construction work schedule it was decided that Elaine head to Des Moines, alone, which incidentally leaves me at home, alone. This is not about you, Monner. Confidentially, Elaine is having a great time with people she loves and sees seldomly.


Elaine is a special kind of mother. After raising one batch of kids, and looking forward to a life of grandparenting, God asked Elaine, to do it all again. God, asked the same of me, but I couldn’t have done it without Elaine. (Have you noticed; I cannot keep myself out of this story? I’m trying, really.)


Elaine, you have earned this mini vacation. Happy Mother’s Day! Speaking for BOTH batches of kids, (mostly because I’m letting them participate in writing these stories) we love you. Have fun.


My own mother, Lucille Mary (Kechter) Sipes passed away in 1987. The daughter of Volga-German immigrants, Mom was the first in her family to graduate from high school. Before I move on, I am going to clear up something that honestly, I have no idea if it would bother Mom or not.


There is a road and subdivision in our town named after my Mom’s grandfather. Recently, I have been listening to radio traffic reports and the reporter mispronounces my mom’s last name. Kechter is pronounced (KECK’ ter.) not (KESH’ ter). There you go Mom, Happy Mother’s Day.


I think about Mom nearly every day. I wonder how she would react to today’s world. Mom shaped each of her five boys with love and discipline. By discipline, I mean with an iron hand. Well, maybe not an iron hand but at least a belt, shoe, or yardstick, but I don’t really remember an Iron hand. When Mom said, “Don’t get in that mud”, and then somehow mud gets on your shoes, and then your brother, Doug catches you and brings you back, you were glad Mom didn’t have an iron hand. I still remember what happens when your shoes get “accidentally” muddy.


I was the middle child of five boys. I might have given Mom the biggest challenges. Mom, I apologize for what I put you through. I know that years after the fact you had to be laughing. You seemed to know exactly how to make my life’s lessons memorable, so as not to be repeated.


Remember the time, the quarterback, the gymnast and I “forgot” to go to class and were driving around in the quarterback’s car. The gymnast saw a carbonated beverage truck unloading cases of hoppy carbonated beverages and thought we could use one of those cases. Being In the backseat of a two-door car helped me explain later. We didn’t even get a hoppy carbonated beverage open before the police cars were stopping the quarterback’s car.


I got to share an experience she had never experienced with any of her other five boys. I telephoned her from the police station.


Me: Mom, I’m in jail. Mom: Yeah, I know you are. Me: Mom, I’m in jail. Mom: You had better be in school. Me: Mom, I’m really in jail. Cop (grabbing the phone); Mrs. Monner’s mother, he really is in jail. Mom: I’ll be right there.