Mother’s Day – getting back to it’s roots


Today is Mother’s Day in the United States, along with many other countries in the world. A day to celebrate your mom, if you have one, to be celebrated, if you are one, to read horrible platitudes about how all women are mother’s, and to avoid your local grocery store due to last minute flower sells.

Honestly, I don’t mind Mother’s Day. I love my mom, I love my kids, and I like celebrating things because I need very little reason to eat dessert, but I also recognize that it’s a painful day for many.

So today, I want to remember the historical roots of Mother’s Day, and think about the implications of how we could be celebrating this day. Mother’s Day in the United States was born out Ann Reeves Jarvis’ efforts at activism for women in the mid 19th century, and morphed into a day to promote peace after the Civil War. What better way to honor mothers than to stop taking their sons and daughters and killing them in war?

There have been many critiques of the way that the armed forces in the US recruit our sons and daughters. The majority of recruits come from rural, depressed areas, from families that live below the poverty level. It is concerning that D.C. is still overwhelmingly white, male, and upper-class, and these men are sending our poor, vulnerable, at-risk kids to war to die for… well, that’s a topic for another day. (Spoiler alert: money.) The way these issues intersect with race is particularly troubling – the promise of money and college and future to fight “for” a country that does not treat you as equal at home.

Click through to the links to read more, and remember this Mother’s Day that less war is a gift mom’s all over the world can appreciate. (and the impeachment of the orange menace)impeachtrump

Happy Mother’s Day!


Mom & Bert & Ernie & Me

by: Azul Uribe

My mother learned to speak English with the help of Bert & Ernie in the 70s. Every time I imagine it, it’s always some sepia toned version, like the fading pictures of that time. My mother sitting cross legged in a wood paneled room, the blue of her bell bottoms bright against the brown of the carpet, her waist length hair dark, and her big green eyes focused on flipping the cassette over to play the other side of the tape.

After all these decades my mother’s English still has a heavy accent and she can still sing “America The Beautiful” by heart. “Bert & Ernie!” she will say, and smile.

I didn’t live through that time period of my mother’s life but feel like I was there in some ghostly form because I can see it so vividly in my mind’s eye and I wonder if it has to do with how Bert & Ernie shaped my English too. Continue reading “Mom & Bert & Ernie & Me”