When it comes to thinking of my mother as a bold mother–There’s a post from December 9, 2009 entitled “A Bold Mother”; you can search it–there’s a story in our family that is a bit of a legend. It proves that my mother wasn’t just young enough and bold enough to share contemporary books and music with us, and let us keep what we found on our own, but that she was young enough to find value in those things.
This story is evidence of that. It’s a simple story, a solitary moment, but, man, would anything of note ever happen in this world if it weren’t for those little moments? Time and happenstance feed into them, and then time and happenstance follow behind, and time and happenstance come in their wake, and so often all those other moments are forgotten.
And isn’t that a testament to how important a moment can be? All of the others are lost in the forgotten seas of the past; yet that one gains a different life that allows it to live into the memory of the future.
And this one went down like this: After school, one day when I was about 16 or 17, I walked into the kitchen to find my mother listening to my cassette copy of Ozzy’s Bark at the Moon and singing along. That was it; just that, a moment, and nothing more. I don’t recall how I reacted–I can bet it was something moronic–but it doesn’t matter. How can it? I don’t know what came next, yet the one moment still lives.
My sister Cara goes on to say that not only was Mom singing, but she knew the words. I guess that’s true, and I guess it was once a part of the remembered moment that I have since forgotten, but all I remember was that the song was “Bark at the Moon.”
Just a little moment. All my mother did was put on a bit of diversion music to keep her company while she worked on her dinner prep, and we’re this far along in the future and it has become so much more.
This piece started out to be about my mother and how blessed we were that she never censored our tastes in music and books, which is true and, given the life I live and how much I enjoy it, always worthy of note. Still, it seems the bigger theme here becomes the moment. A moment, any moment. They all have the same potential to be amazing and rise into the future of memory, rather flowing into those forgotten seas.
I’m going to focus on that today. I’m going to shoot for those that I can carry with me well. I know Mom will be pleased to know that.
God bless you, friends.