Lovingly Dishonest
This weekend brings St Patrick's Day, Mother's Day and me oul Irish Granny's 101st birthday. Thus, yesterday evening found me cussin and fussin in greetings card shops, big newsagents and other retail outlets. Maybe I worry too much about the detail but I cannot bring myself to give my mother a card stuffed with the usual flowery sentiments. For all the wonderful things you've done/and those you still keep doing/I truly hope, oh Mummy dearest/this card don't leave you spewing
I look back on the long years years of my relationship with me Ma and recall some love n laughs alright, and much frustration, anger, disappointment...Not that my filial feelings are wanting, but the verses in cards seem tailored more for some faultless proto-mother who lives to give rather than my dear, daft, flawed Ma, who understandably did not always put her kids first, and is still not above making hair-raising pronouncements late at night over the phone in a slurred voice.
Oh Ma you're a real holy caution
when the booze it does fill you with rancour
So do us a favour this weekend, please Ma,
go easy on the vino blanco
Dear Mother, what's worse is the syrup,
that treacly way you can go,
Please Ma do knock off the old doe-eyed routine
Cause the joins they are starting to show
See Mother, the vodka, the fags and the wine,
the aggro, the pushin and shovin,
the unsuitable suitors - all get in the way
Of the real you I still can't help lovin.
Is that Hallmark on the phone with a job offer?
Poor oul Granny doesn't present such difficulties but almost every card in the shops was addressed to 'Nan' or 'Grandma', endearments never used by my extended family, nor by anyone I ever knew native to these parts. Odd.
But what do you get for the woman who's past caring? My Gran measures out her days sitting, sleepy, in the nursing home, too old and tired to take notice of or remark upon much of anything. Toiletries are useful, and she enjoys a biscuit, though as I well know, these things end up, respectively, used on the other old ones who don't have family to bring them stuff, and disappearing down the gullets of overworked staff in need of a sugar fix. Ach, why not? The gift your money buys for a 101-year-old who can't stand up, who has the use of only one arm, whose eyes are dull and distant, is kind of symbolic - it eases the guilt you can't help feeling, regardless of what use is actually made of it.
You are so very old, dear Gran,
so very, very old.
So very, very, very old,
You don't really give a shit, do you?
Well, God forgive me (and indeed, my Granny has the comfort, I think, of fully believing that when she dies, she will meet God and Jesus and the Blessed Virgin in a Heaven not unlike Rozelle Gardens in Ayr). She was the most selfless person I ever met and wanted only a bit of security for herself and to be able to be generous to her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren - kind of like the ideal mothers of the greetings-card verses. I love ya, oul Maggie.
Bro 2 asked me if I wanted business cards printed. Pfaugh! And whom would I attempt to impress with such frippery?
When I was at school I had a friend who would say, "My card," and present people with what appeared to be a business card. On it the words My Card were printed in flowing script. Dammit, I still find that funny.
I look back on the long years years of my relationship with me Ma and recall some love n laughs alright, and much frustration, anger, disappointment...Not that my filial feelings are wanting, but the verses in cards seem tailored more for some faultless proto-mother who lives to give rather than my dear, daft, flawed Ma, who understandably did not always put her kids first, and is still not above making hair-raising pronouncements late at night over the phone in a slurred voice.
Oh Ma you're a real holy caution
when the booze it does fill you with rancour
So do us a favour this weekend, please Ma,
go easy on the vino blanco
Dear Mother, what's worse is the syrup,
that treacly way you can go,
Please Ma do knock off the old doe-eyed routine
Cause the joins they are starting to show
See Mother, the vodka, the fags and the wine,
the aggro, the pushin and shovin,
the unsuitable suitors - all get in the way
Of the real you I still can't help lovin.
Is that Hallmark on the phone with a job offer?
Poor oul Granny doesn't present such difficulties but almost every card in the shops was addressed to 'Nan' or 'Grandma', endearments never used by my extended family, nor by anyone I ever knew native to these parts. Odd.
But what do you get for the woman who's past caring? My Gran measures out her days sitting, sleepy, in the nursing home, too old and tired to take notice of or remark upon much of anything. Toiletries are useful, and she enjoys a biscuit, though as I well know, these things end up, respectively, used on the other old ones who don't have family to bring them stuff, and disappearing down the gullets of overworked staff in need of a sugar fix. Ach, why not? The gift your money buys for a 101-year-old who can't stand up, who has the use of only one arm, whose eyes are dull and distant, is kind of symbolic - it eases the guilt you can't help feeling, regardless of what use is actually made of it.
You are so very old, dear Gran,
so very, very old.
So very, very, very old,
You don't really give a shit, do you?
Well, God forgive me (and indeed, my Granny has the comfort, I think, of fully believing that when she dies, she will meet God and Jesus and the Blessed Virgin in a Heaven not unlike Rozelle Gardens in Ayr). She was the most selfless person I ever met and wanted only a bit of security for herself and to be able to be generous to her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren - kind of like the ideal mothers of the greetings-card verses. I love ya, oul Maggie.
Bro 2 asked me if I wanted business cards printed. Pfaugh! And whom would I attempt to impress with such frippery?
When I was at school I had a friend who would say, "My card," and present people with what appeared to be a business card. On it the words My Card were printed in flowing script. Dammit, I still find that funny.