MATERNAL STRENGTH

“The bravest battle that ever was fought; Shall I tell you where and when?
On the maps of the world you will find it not; It was fought by the mothers of men”

When I was preparing to write this article I asked twenty men and women what their most profound memories about their own mothers were.

I thought it would be about cookies, haircuts, hugs and the like. Instead it was striking that each of the twenty spoke of incredible acts of bravery on the parts of their mothers.

The first story was from a pilot friend whose mother was dying of cancer. He came to her side to spend last painful moments with her, and all she could do was fret about his head cold. She said “ I know where I’m going, but you still have to work. I have Dristan in my night stand.”

The second story, though not collected with this lot, was told to me a few years ago. As a young child who grew up in a tough neighbourhood, a grown man told me about an incident where he was surrounded by bullies. He sent someone home to tell his mother because his father and brother were not home. His mother, came to the scene with a baseball bat and dragged it across fence posts for effect and, like a Valkyrie vanquished the cowardly swarm.

Another tale concerned a young man, who when in a car accident with his mom and dad, saw his mom press in front of him to protect him from impact while her arm shattered the windshield of the vehicle. She injured herself as a result of her acting as a shield.

One story concerned a young man who, while working at a restaurant was surprised that his mom was hired at the same workplace. He was worried about his mom not being able to keep up, and potential embarrassment. Instead he saw his mother perform professionally, putting up with the usual slings and arrows of a busy shop, and more than managing the chewing out of supervisors, and the behaviour of customers. It was a noble job that his mother did.

My good friend was the daughter of white Russians who fled the Russian revolution and moved to Shanghai where they were taken in by Chinese families. Her mother had a minor case of arthritis and continued to wear less and less jewellery saying that she could not bear the weight of it on her hands. My friend was taking piano lessons from a Belgian national and was amazed that in their penurious situation she was so kindly taught by the teacher. She later learned that her mother had given all of her jewellery to this teacher over a period of years so that my friend would become the brilliant musician she was to be.

A true demonstration of self sacrifice and bravery I marvel at was that of a Korean man. During the Korean conflict his family which consisted of his mother and five children, were often starving. My friend would cry for more food, because he was a growing boy and his stomach would hurt, and his head ache because of malnourishment. His mother would often try to get him a bit more food. His brother and his sisters were never as hungry as he was because they were tiny children. He got through this very hard period, as did the rest of his family. When he grew up, his littlest sister told him that their mother had not eaten so that he could go through the day without hunger pains. She turned her portions over to him when there was enough food for six servings.

The notion of Amazons having super human strength and courage pales in comparison to the power of commitment and depth of love of our mothers.

As a child and as an adult, I have been fortunate to meet great mothers, brave leaders and brilliant and humane counterparts. Good mothers and better mothers. Some stayed at home making great cookies, accommodating the needs of every aspect of their family’s life. Others cared painstakingly for sick husbands and children. The ferocity of protection and advocacy for the children was never in question. This was the case even if the purpose was questionable. The most obvious example of this was one of my high school mates. She did not work very hard, and the outcomes of her mediocre work often did not include stellar marks. When my friend experienced the dissonance created by these bad marks at home, she would usually blame the teacher in question. This would then result in her patrician and condescending mother cornering any teacher who had shortchanged her daughter out of a mark or two. She would usually say that any teacher who did not recognize her daughter’s extraordinary genius was obviously someone who should be teaching convicts, welding classes or better still not be teaching at all. She loved her child and showed her fangs when, right or wrong, the girl complained.

Though we look back to our childhoods with wistfulness, it should occur to us that our carefree and well tended lives at the time were the result of bravery self sacrifice and a protective instinct that defies description.

A professional athlete I knew was incredibly devoted to his mom. I commented often about his really excellent relationship with her. On the eve of the birth of his son, after his marriage to our common childhood friend, he told me why.

His mother and his father immigrated from Holland and bought a small hotel. His mother slaved in the hotel, did all the housekeeping, cooked the meals and cared for the two children. She worked unceasingly, while the father, isolated and only speaking minimal English became more and more dejected. He hit the wife and the children and descended into alcoholism. One day in a blind rage he was strangling his son. His mother, a tiny woman in comparison to the father hurled a kitchen knife into the man’s arm to stop him. The crisis ended. The man came to his senses and stayed there.

Feminists – not necessarily.
Physically powerful – not usually.
Strong in heart, soul and mind – that is a woman at her best.