Can I tell you something?
During the Civil War – the one back in the 1800s, not the one now – an intrepid woman named Ann Jarvis formed ‘Mother’s Day Work Clubs’ which visited encampments for both the Union and the Confederacy to improve sanitation and prevent disease outbreaks, notably typhus.
And how awkward would it have been for your mother to show up on the front lines?
“Mom! What’re you doing here?”
“We’re just going to tidy up a bit, sweetie. This place is filthy. Are those your socks?”
After the war, Ann organized a ‘Mother’s Friendship Day’ to reunite families torn apart by the conflict and help heal a deeply divided nation. Much the same way as a Trump rally does today.
This brave and indefatigable woman died in 1905 and her daughter Anna – a clever child-naming strategy – established ‘Mother’s Day’ on May 9th of that year to honor and celebrate Ann’s life well lived.
This commemoration of love continued and was first officially celebrated in May of 1908 at St. Andrew’s Methodist Episcopal Church in Grafton, West Virginia. Obviously, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree because Anna campaigned tirelessly over the next few years to see Mother’s Day observed across the country, and even around the globe. In 1910, West Virginia made it an official day of remembrance, and the U.S. Congress followed suit in 1914 by unanimous vote – the last time it’s believed that happened – making Mother’s Day a national holiday on the second Sunday in May.
But that’s not what I wanted to tell you.
Back in the days when Anna was running the show, Mother’s Day was celebrated rather piously by going to church and having family dinners. White carnations, Ann’s fave flower, were commonly worn and distributed to friends and family.
Soon, evidently because demand outpaced supply of the white kind, the tradition evolved and people whose mother was still alive wore pink carnations, and white only if mom had kicked the bucket.
Naturally, as is the case with all holidays of the national variety, advertisers and retailers came to see it solely as an opportunity to make a shit ton of money, and Mother’s Day has now become so heavily commercialized it’s earned the title of a ‘Hallmark Holiday’.
Aside from the booming card and carnation business, restaurants have made a killing by guilt tripping anyone who dares make their mother stay home and cook on her special day, salons and spas promote pampering mom with mani-pedis while plying her with multiple mimosas, and not to be left out, clothing and home beautification retailers stuff our inboxes with deals we can’t refuse unless we want to live with the undying shame of being ungrateful and ungracious spouses and children.
This has gotten so out of hand that celebrating Mother’s Day has even been co-opted by auto racing with multiple events on her special weekend because nothing says ‘thank you mom’ like watching roaring cars make hundreds of left turns interrupted only by endless yellow caution flags and the occasional fiery crash.
But what I really wanted to tell you is this.
I really don’t think there should be a Mother’s Day. Stay with me.
It’s fine that we dedicate one day a year to fathers because in my opinion that’s all they deserve. When you consider the average dad’s contribution to conception, childbearing, birthing, and rearing – basically it boils down to getting lucky, handing out cigars, and teaching the kids to pull their finger – one seems like plenty.
But I think every day should be Mother’s Day. Considering all the unseen and unsung work they do for us, it’s the least we should do.
I lost my mother in 1982, and my wife Lori lost hers in 2014. We never had children, so the occasion is not a big deal in our home, but we do deeply appreciate what our mothers did for us and stand in awe of those who still wear the pink carnation.
Happy Mother’s Day to all you moms reading this. I hope you have a wonderful day of rest and relaxation and receive really cool gifts and great food and drink and don’t have to lift a finger or pull one. Or, God forbid, watch a NASCAR race.
Thanks for listening. Talk soon.