This is an important time of the year for me. Most every man will tell you their mother is the best in the world.
And I make the same claim, comfortable in the knowledge I am the only one who is right.
She’s entirely awesome. An army of one, she accomplishes more by noon. than I do all day. I remember this when feeling sorry for my student self.
Although the holiday this weekend may be a contrived marketing exercise by the Hallmark company, I play along as a convenient opportunity to honor my mother.
Some years I manage only a telephone call. Other times we are able to get together and spend time together, sometimes over food but usually in the cups. Often, she is the one too busy with her crazy life.
For five years, the date has taken on a dual significance. I met another important woman in my life on Mothers Day in 1999.
Appropriately enough, I was spending the day with my mother. And typical to our relationship, it was spent running my errands.
I was looking for a new apartment and we checked out a converted home in Pasadena managed by a dark-eyed young woman and her mother.
I didn’t take the apartment, but ended up with the girl. We eventually moved in together and have traveled extensively.
She is the only woman to ever enjoy things quite like I do. Sleeping in $2 guest houses across the Indian subcontinent and raiding tombs in Cambodia.
Whenever Terry and I travel abroad or across town for a family event, we are confronted with the inevitable question. The question is not if we are going to wed, but when? As if there is something insufficient about the relationship we enjoy.
More than traditional religious concerns – we’re both irredeemable pagans – it seems another trap of the Western mind.
Give me more, what’s next, where’s the greener grass, can I have a refill? Many rush headlong through the stages of a relationship to arrive at marriage completely lost and confused. What comes next after that? Okay, reproduce reproduce. What now?
Many lack the patience or the original interest in waiting till death-do-they-part, and opt for the contemporary shortcut of divorce.
Start the cycle anew and keep the wheel spinning.
As a species we desperately seek continuity and certainty, however unnatural and unlikely.
Things change. By not living in the now, we sometimes spoil today with our obsession with tomorrow.
Friends of mine of both genders have had relationships end because of uncertainty that they were “on the track to marriage.”
I was dumfounded at 17 when a girlfriend told me she had to go because she didn’t feel our relationship was “leading to marriage.”
Whether Terry and I are together another week or another five years matters not. We enjoy each other today and every day.
Well, almost every day. And if that changes or life intervenes, our time together will not become invalidated or something to be regretted.
This weekend, I’ll enjoy my 29th year with my mother and my fifth with my Terry.
As an impoverished Leopard, I cannot afford to buy anything for either of them this weekend. So I appreciate the patient indulgence of our readers as I write this column for them, and say to Terry and Catherine: I love you.
Kenneth Todd Ruiz, a senior journalism major, is editor in chief of the Campus Times. He can be reached by e-mail at email@example.com.