Its' a curious thing, love. I"ve heard it described in many ways about different kinds of love. The new relationship kind of love, the love of fellow human beings, the love one acquires over ages with a spouse, and the love a parent has for a child. The last one is special. It requires no thought. It is a connection with no strings attached. It is extra-special in the early years of life, when that love cannot be contained and the parents wear their love for their child for all the world to see. I know this because I know many young parents who now have the digital age to show their love to everyone that passes their way. Oh sure, the pictures are cute, and funny, and touching. The WWW world has created an expressive outlet for the love these parents have for their children. Now me, on the other hand, can only express the love my Mother had for me through stories.
I think the first picture of me was taken when I was around 4 years old. My Mother used to tell me I was one of the ugliest babies she had ever seen, so they didn't take any pictures of me. She related a story of how, when I was born, I was so ugly that a lady came to my Mother, gave her a silver dollar to give to me, and said, "Well, you know what they say, the good looking ones never amount to anything". My other enjoyed telling that story to anyone and everyone when my name was brought up. Cute little story, but it doesn't stop there. My Mother was forever bending the rules of parentdom by placing me in potentially precarious places.
When I was 17, my Mother had me come into the kitchen and help her with something. I thought cool, Mom needs help with something that only I can help her with. You would have thought that I should have known better by now. You see, we had a very old refridgerator and she had me open it. She told me to look over on the inside wall, there was a little hole in the side with a little rubber collar around it. She told me there was something stuck in there and her fingers were too small to retrieve it. I said, "okay" and proceded to stick my finger in the hole. As my hand went forward, I noticed my Mom backing up. It was too late. I got the shock of my life from that little light socket in the side of that fridge. My Mother howled with laughter and said, "Damn, I can't believe you did that. I can't believe what an idiot I have for a son". I thought, "Great, my Mom, who is supposed to love me, almost electrocuted me".
I know that last bit sounds unbelievable, but it really happenend. My Mother was always looking for a laugh and was willing to risk her children to that expense. I have no doubt about my Mothers' love for me, or any of my brothers or sisters. She just showed it in her own unique way. Yeah, the power of love came in the wattage variety in my house. I am not sure how my Mother would have used the digital age for her own unique varity of love, but I am sure it would have been funny, and potentially dangerous. Man, I miss my Mom.