Mother’s Day Edition

May 11, 2008

This is my dear mother, Colette Arlyne Fuller. She passed away on May 5th, 2002 just short of my parents 40th wedding anniversary. Needless to say this made for a really sad Mother’s Day for me that year. It certainly adds poignancy to every Mother’s Day because she did not live to see my son being born. She would have adored him and I could have had her advice, support, wisdom, and humor. She loved kids. When she worked for the Children’s Protective Services they would always bring the kids to her because she was so very good with them. It would break her heart to see kids with cigarette burns and bruises on their arms, and she would bravely smile for them and say how beautiful they were.

She was one of those women who always wanted to be a mother, but after she married she couldn’t get pregnant. So my parents turned to adoption and adopted me at 6 months old. There was never a time where I didn’t think she loved me. There was never a time that I thought that she wasn’t my real mother. She spent her life worrying about me, taking care of me, and being there in good and bad times. She and my father were ever so curious and supportive of searching for my birthfamily. She even attended my birth father’s wedding and raised a toast to him for giving her a daughter, just as she thanked my birthmother. My mother was generously inclusive of my birth family and they thought the world of her.

The engagement ring I wear came from her mother’s family. The diamond came from one of a pair of earrings that traveled from Poland through Ellis Island. to Long Island. My grandmother turned that earring into a ring and it took the journey with her to Los Angeles and to the Bay Area. Half of her Polish, Jewish, Gypsy family converted to Catholicism. My mother was a Catholic Jew, having to keep track which of her family observed which religion.

She looked nothing like me. She was short, skinny, olive skinned, and had curly brunette hair. People would say to us that they saw a resemblance, but we would look at each other, laugh, and say, “Where?”

She taught me not to talk about politics, religion, or sex, but she completely failed. Sorry Mom.

My mother started smoking in 1945 when she was a teenager working in a dime store thinking about quitting high school. She developed osteoporosis and emphysema in the last 10-15 years of her life which caused her great pain and gasping for breath. Even thinking about it now, makes me feel like being kicked in the stomach. I wish she was with us today and was able to spend time with our son, who watches video of her and is sorry that she died.

Being a mother of my almost 4 1/2 year old has been such a wonderful journey. He is healthy, happy, and very bright. He is a sportsboy who loves soccer, baseball, and likes to watch extreme sports (hint: we will NEED our health care plan). The important thing to me is that he has empathy, he feels bad when others feel bad. My son developed the sense of fairness early. I am hoping that I can keep encouraging him to use that to be involved in politics. I will be taking him with me on the Golden Gate Walk against the Spraying on May 31.

I am a very fortunate mom. Our family has a roof over our head, we have food, transportation, education, and a familial support system. On Mother’s Day, I also think of mothers who are less fortunate in this county, this country, and around the world. There are mothers who are incarcerated by the War against Drugs. There are mothers who are in the grasp of domestic violence. There are mothers who are working two or more jobs and living from paycheck to pay check. There are mothers who are poor and homeless. My heart and thoughts go out to them. I believe passionately with all my heart that ALL mothers should be honored and supported. It shouldn’t be a stigma to be parenting while poor, it should be create an urge for compassion and warm welcoming.

Happy Mothers Day to me! Happy Mothers Day to all Mothers.