By Melinda Driscoll
Fri, May 16 2008 On my way to the paint department in our local hardware/crafts store to buy mineral spirits and a scraping tool to remove varnish, I passed through the greeting card aisle. This terrific store has at least one of everything including beautiful greeting cards. I paused from my furniture refinishing mission to select a Mother's Day card from the colorful profusion on display. A large card with a splashy watercolor bouquet caught my eye. I knew mother would like the colors and the design. What luck that it was the first one I picked up. Then I read the message. "No!" a voice said. It was mother, and she was going to supervise my card selection. Her opinions occur frequently in my head, so it was a friendly thing, almost like she was shopping with me. "I don't like the message," she continued, "and you could paint that yourself." I agreed with her about the message, but I don't have time right now to do a watercolor painting; I am refinishing a piece of furniture. I got the hint, though, that she would like a hand-painted card. The next card to pique my interest had a Renoir-like landscape in warm tones on the inside with a cutout on the front that allowed you to see the fuzzy landscape on the inside. When I opened it, the glued-on felt fibers were shedding. That card was definitely out. "How could you even consider it?" "Gee, I don't know. I guess I just wanted to look at it more closely." "Remember, I'm going to display this card all year, so it better be good!" She was right, as usual. The card I selected had to be perfect because she will display it all year on a small easel that she keeps on her desk. I continued to browse. "Difficult Mother's Day," one heading indicated. There have been those times, but not now. The next card that interested me portrayed a combination of geometric shapes and simple flowers all in green tones. She likes green. I read the message. It was a long, mushy rhyme about things that were not relevant to our relationship, and although lovely and sincere, all I could hear were those rhyming end words. "You never write poems like that, and you don't talk to me that way — thank goodness! Keep looking." Then I saw it. The perfect Mother's Day card for 2008. The background was an antique gold pattern with overlays of flowers and butterflies. The message was simple and real. I am the most fortunate daughter to have a mother like you. She did not comment, so it must have been the right one. When I consider the myriad times I have consulted her, and the answers she has given, I wonder how one person could have accumulated such insight and humor about human behavior without having formally studied anthropology and psychology. Later, I called to see how her weekend had been and mentioned that I had spent most of mine stripping darkened, crazed varnish off grandmother's oak curio cabinet. She said she couldn't remember exactly what it looked like. It has been about 20 years since she has seen it. The cabinet is over 100 years old, and it has made four cross-country trips. It needs a face lift. "I'm going to make it look new again. Do you think she would be pleased, or would she care?" I asked. "You don't need another project right now." She laughed, and then said lovingly, "She would care very much." I could tell my mother cared very much, too, and I can hardly wait to mail her Mother's Day card.
Melinda Driscoll is a resident of Londonderry.
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