Dear Mother,

Though we are drastically different, we remain connected in ways I am only beginning to get my heart around . . .

You love to entertain, and you amaze me with your ability to whisk a few things from here and there and over yonder then group them in the center of the table – atop that tablecloth you embroidered when you were younger or the tablecloth you got on that trip to southern California or maybe the tablecloth that once belonged to your mother – to create a fetching table that invites folks to come, eat, stay a while.

You love to cook, and in all the meals I’ve eaten at your table, I only remember one inedible dish – a meal that’s come to be known as The Night The Gravy Went Horribly Awry. After a full day of work followed by grocery shopping followed by cooking and setting the table, you were too tired to notice us pushing the gravy around on our plates. You were too tired to notice all the leftover gravy as we cleared the table, scraping all leftovers into a communal leftover vessel that was put down on the floor to treat the cat. You were too tired to notice how the cat sniffed the gravy, then turned around and began to try to cover it up by raking bits of debris from the floor.

(Whatever happened to that cat, anyway?)

Though we each have our favorite foods we never tire of having you prepare for us, you delight in collecting cookbooks, stretching their spines as you put colorful gem clips on pages of recipes you want to try out. They line an entire bookcase in your home, all these cookbooks picked up as souvenirs from trips or accepted as gifts given, and you can (and do) tell the story of each one . . . sometimes offering it before we even think to ask.

The original social butterfly, you never letting a birthday go by unnoticed. How you have the time to keep up and stay in touch with so many friends is beyond me. But you do, and it’s not an obligation – you enjoy every minute.

Through the years, you’ve saved your money and purchased some fine furniture pieces – some I sure wish you still had so I could put my name on them. Whether it’s furniture or lamps or rugs or accessories or wall color or even switchplate covers, you create rooms that invite comfortable gatherings sprinkled with food (of course) and conversation and laughter.

You never met a plant who didn’t thrive in your care. The birds can’t wait for spring to come to your backyard, plants race to break through the soil and vie for your loving attention, your flowers provide color that dazzles and pleases even the most contrary and grumpy eye. You are one of those rare gardeners who doesn’t have to pay attention to the growing zones. Even the most neglected or out-of-place plants want to do you proud.

You taught me how to tell time . . . not with a watch or numbers written in a circle, but with clothes. Always one to keep up with the latest fashions, you have a knack for buying clothes and accessories that never go out of style. You dressed me in clothes that gave me confidence and that can’t-touch-me feeling, and though I can’t tell you what year anything happened, I can sure tell you what I was wearing at the time (and probably where we bought it).

Beauty.

That’s what you taught me: beauty. You taught me the importance of beauty, of surrounding myself with it, of acquiring and enjoying it without apology. You taught me to have beauty in mind at all times, to always keep an eye out for beauty, to appreciate it when I see it, and to create it every chance I get. And the best part? you didn’t teach me by having me read a book or by telling me things and following up with a test. You taught me by living it – living it every day in every way. And that, more than anything else I can think of, is what I thank you for today.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I love you more than that set of encyclopedias you petitioned Santa to bring me that one year.

J-one
a.k.a. Jeanne,
your Favorite

Dear TJ,

You’ve built a life for yourself at Woodward Academy over the past twelve years, and for the most part, this basic set of tools you’ve acquired will serve your well. As you go from here, however, you will encounter other situations that may require other tools. You’ll pick up and accumulate the other tools you need, acquiring them from all sorts of places. When in doubt about tool selection or if you need to acquire a tool you don’t have, ask advice and/or help from someone you trust, a wise person who has your best interest at heart more than their own personal agenda.

Be careful who you loan your tools to. If you loan your tools out and they are not returned, don’t hesitate to march right over and demand your tool back. Some people just won’t value your tools, and that’s okay. Sure, it can sting a bit, but that’s just the way it is. They can go get their own tools. Or not. Just don’t make it a habit to loan your tools to people who don’t value them.

People may tell you that for every job, there’s only one tool that will do. Pffffft. Don’t you ever be afraid to try different tools – you might find that they work just fine. Some things come with step-by-step instructions that are clearly written and easily understood, but many things you’ll just have to figure out yourself through good old-fashioned tenacity, open-mindedness, and hard work. The best things you will ever build are worth the effort, and though it may be messy and difficult and frustrating in the middle, if you stick to it, you’ll finish with a sense of satisfaction, memories of the fun you had, and a well of confidence you can draw from for the rest of your life.

If you take care of your tools, they will last a lifetime. Oil your tools and store them properly so they will not deteriorate from non-use. Sharpen your tools when needed, and remember that some tools need to be recharged periodically. Take care of your tools, and they will always be ready to take care of you.

These tools will help you deconstruct, build, and repair some things. For other things, rely on your heart, your bones, and the people you trust. Remember that sometimes things must be torn down and taken apart before you can begin, and that now – more than any other point in your life so far – YOU are the one responsible for the life you build.

I love you.

I am proud of you.

Now, go. Scoot. Build yourself a life you can be proud of.

And don’t you ever forget that I love you more than my cutest shoes,

Jeanne