When I was a wee girl of about six, my class was assigned to write something about our mothers. “My mother has ’blong’ hair,” I wrote. The teacher floated by my desk and said, “What’s that word?”
“Blong,” I said.
“Honey, that’s not a word. Do you mean long? Do you mean brown?”
“No BLONG,” I insisted. But she changed the words to “long brown hair,” which was not at ALL what I was trying to describe.
I figured out later that I had combined two words: blonde and long. A mistake, but now that I think about it, why not a one-of-a-kind word to describe a unique mom? One who had five kids, then got a nursing degree, a masters in music, worked as a medical missionary in Africa, sang concert tours in Europe and followed up with a PhD . . . No, I still don’t know where she got the energy..
She made sure all of us kids sang, went to church, earned the best grades we could, and got along with our siblings OR ELSE. Sure, “or else” would happen if we misbehaved, but she was also the first person to go to the mat for us if we were in trouble.
Today, when I look in the mirror, I’m sometimes amazed at how much I look like my mom. My hair is even a bit “blong.” I can only hope, one day, to be as great as my mom . . . as I raise my own little men in the Man Cave.
This has been an actual conversation in the Man Cave. What’s the Man Cave? Read this.