07
May
11

Mama I’m Coming Home

Ozzy

I thought I would beat the mother’s day rush by just posting this short piece ahead of time.

I remembered mother’s day for the first time in a while. You see, I used to refuse to participate because I thought to myself “I love my mom and she knows that fact, I don’t have to participate in this game of picking a day to express it.”

But my views have evolve since then, and what I’ve come to understand is that not participating in instances of celebration is itself a kind of demeaning attitude. Imagine someone who said “I don’t celebrate veteran’s day because I’m always thinking of the troops.” Holidays are pubic and coordinated displays of emotion and participation in them expresses one’s concern for the thing celebrated on whatever holiday it happens to be.

Not participating expresses a kind of contempt for the way that sentiments can be amplified because coordinated. The sum truly can be greater than its parts (one reason is that specified days for things allow others to talk to you about your thankfulness and you to express yours in a natural setting. And gods knows people need things to talk about, otherwise…yea. You’ve got some silence on your hands.)

BUT DON’T GET ME WRONG, I haven’t abandoned the view that there is something trite and dangerous about mother’s day, I’ve just changed the mode of skepticism and reaction. To dramatize the silliness of mother’s day, you don’t have to take my contrarian word for it. The FOUNDER OF MOTHER’S DAY (Anna Jarvis), dedicated herself to getting rid of the holiday after seeing, over a fairly short time, what it had become and how it was twisted away from its original purpose (what isn’t twisted away from its original purpose).

Restaurants see the most traffic, collectively, on Mother’s Day than on any other day, and like I said, there’s something ridiculous about the whole thing, but also, as I’ve recently been theorizing, something good about it too, and that’s kind of the story with most things, so now I’m just trying to participate in the convention without becoming a slave to it.

My personal and petty form of rebellion? Here it is.

When the florist asked me what I wanted to put on the card to my mom, I said something not involving mother’s day. It just expressed gratitude toward my maam. She then asked me “nothing like happy mother’s day?” Me: “nope.” So I’m playing along while trying not to be dragged along.

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