This Mother’s Day, 2020, my blog is dedicated to my four favorite Mothers. My Mom, my Wife, my Daughter, and my other mother, Mother Earth. (Sorry, Ma Teresa, you didn’t make the cut.).
My Mom was an amazing person who gave me my generous heart and a wicked sense of humor. She was a not-so-quiet rebel who taught me to stand up for what’s right. If she were alive today, Trump wouldn’t stand a chance.
My Wife, whose name shall never be mentioned anywhere on social media (although I seem to recall it was Margaret), is one of the most selfless people I know. She doesn’t like nor need praise, so we’ll just leave it at that.
Then there’s my daughter, the mother of my grandson. She’s carrying on the tradition of mothers everywhere who would do anything for her child. Seeing the two of them and my son-in-law on What’s App and Facetime during the pandemic has raised our stay-at-home spirits. I miss being with the three of them as much as I miss spending Mother’s Day with my Mom.
And of course, I can’t forget Mother Earth. She’s been treated so terribly by The Dumbest Man Ever to be Elected President, it’s a wonder she hasn’t brought climate change sooner. Fortunately, there’s a glimmer of Hope. She’s planning to vote on Tuesday, November 3.
But enough Mother’s Day sentiment. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover, so fasten your seat belts. (Wait. Didn’t Attorney General Barr outlaw seat belts? Oh no, sorry, that’s next week!) And if you’re a previous Reader of any of my Mother’s Day blogs from 2016, 2017, 2018 or 2019, you’re excused from reading this updated version. You’ll just need a note from your Mom.
Here’s a rundown on what you can expect today:
1. First up, a description of The Toughest Job in the World. A Job is so tough, no man on Earth could handle it! 2. An Open Letter to Donald Trump. From His Mother. Mother Earth. I’m not sure he ever had a real mother (We’ll have to check his Birth Certificate). 3. A Tribute to my Late Mom, although she was hardly ever late, usually right on time. 4.STAN Meets His Maker. The notorious STAN, Jack’s imaginary character, meets his Mother for the first time.
STAN: Cool. I’m gonna meet my Mom today?
HARRIET: Shut up, STAN. It’s not time for us to talk yet.
And now, let the festivities begin.
The Toughest Job In The World Is A Real Mother!
You may be under the assumption The Toughest Job in the World is being President Trump’s Press Secretary. After all, he or she has to appear before the White House Press Corps a day after the President was seen on tape saying one thing and deny it ever happened.
But whether you dislike the President’s Press Secretaries or you hate them intensely, you’ve gotta give them credit for discarding their dignity and lowering their integrity to deliver the President’s ever-changing, ill-informed messages.
Still, the four people who’ve held that position so far, Sean the Liar, Sarah Sandbag, someone named Stephanie, and the newest Press Secretary, Kayleigh MacNinny, do not have the Toughest Job in the World. Moms everywhere have the toughest job in the world. And you’ll hardly ever hear them complaining about it. Or blaming it on their problems on previous Mom.
A few years ago, a Boston newspaper ran an ad for “The Toughest Job in the World.” They didn’t tell people they were advertising a fictitious job for a mother. Over 2 1/2 million people saw the ad. Only 27 people applied. It’s no wonder so few applicants were interested in the opening. The requirements were a real killer.
- Must be able to work 135+ hours a week, no breaks
- Ph. D. in psychology or real-life equivalent
- Crisis management skills a must
- Proficiency handling sticky situations (literally and figuratively)
- Demonstrated knowledge and experience in negotiating, counseling and culinary arts
- Positive disposition at all times
Here’s footage from the actual job interview
So, Happy Mother’s Day to Moms Everywhere, They’re America’s most valuable natural resource!
STAN: Hey, Harriet, Goldman’s up to his old tricks.
HARRIET: You mean Goldenberg?
STAN: Goldman. Goldenberg. Whatever. Goldstein’s trying to scam his Readers.
HARRIET: How so?
STAN: He runs this same blog every Mother’s Day.
HARRIET: Look, Stan, it’s true, but he’s updated it so even die-hard Readers won’t mind. Please, just let Jack continue.
STAN: I will. It’s not like I always have to have the last word.
HARRIET: I guess. (almost understandingly)
STAN: It’s not like I always have to have the last word.
HARRIET: Shush, quiet! Jack’s back.
STAN: Last word.
I’m pretty sure my Mom is reading this blog in Heaven. I doubt she’s in Hell or Pittsburgh. She wasn’t very fond of those places and had trouble telling them apart.
An Open Letter to Donald Trump from Mother Earth. (Reprinted from the NY Times.)
Dear President Trump:
You are stripping away regulations that will keep my air and water clean.
You have tried to take away health care for millions of my residents.
You are eliminating funding for programs that aid women and children.
You have threatened to despoil the beauty of my National Parks.
On Mother’s Day, think not just of your children and grandchildren, Mr. President, but of all children and grandchildren who deserve the right, no matter where they were born, or how wealthy they are, to breathe unpolluted air, drink clean water, be protected from dangerous chemicals, and enjoy the natural beauty of their world.
The next time you golf at Mar-a-Lago( and please, this time, wear a mask) and fret over the difficult job of being President, remember those who work hard to allow you your lavish lifestyle.
Please take care of me, and all those already living on earth. I am the only Mother Earth you will ever have.
The above Open Letter appeared in the NY Times on Friday, May 12, 2015 as a full page ad.
A Tribute to My Mom. Who Had Three Wonderful Children. Oh yeah, and me.
My Mom always had a great sense of humor. She loved to pose in pictures with famous fictional characters. Here she is with one of the part-time employees from my Dad’s store who was prone to wearing red suits.
I owe my Mom a lot. Besides my twisted sense of humor, my Mom gave me an intense curiosity about the world. She graduated college at 18 and went back for her Masters in her 70’s. In a wheel chair. She taught me about the responsibility to stand up for what’s right and call out what’s wrong. It often got us both in trouble, but we wouldn’t have it any other way. We still have regular conversations, although they’re somewhat one-sided now that she’s no longer here.
Come to think of it, they were one-sided back then! It was just a different person talking, I can’t imagine anything that would have stopped her from doing anything she wanted to do. It drove my Dad crazy. And I’m sure it keeps my wife Margaret (Again, not her real name) up at night now.
My Mom was a bit of a rascal. Not a trouble maker, mind you, but someone who didn’t mind giving the world a little “oudgie” when it deserved it. Here are a few stories that showcase my Mom’s desire to always keep the world on its toes.
My Mom once called her brother, “The Dumbest Person on the Planet!”
Ever since I can remember, my Mom didn’t get along with her youngest brother, Donald. She wasn’t hostile or mean to him. She often loaned him money to help him out of a jam. And he got in more jams than Smuckers. But my Mom did think her brother was lazy and she had no problem letting the world know about it.
After my Mom graduated college, she became a substitute teacher. One day she was substituting for my Uncle Donald’s history class. She called on Donald throughout the class, embarrassing him again and again because he hadn’t studied and didn’t know any of the answers.
After class, my Mom wrote a note, sealed it in an envelope and told Donald to take it home to “his” Mother. If you’re following this story carefully, you’ll note my Mom and Uncle Donald had the same mother, a k a my grandmother.
When my grandmother read the note, she was furious! The note said, “Congratulations. Your son is the dumbest person on the planet.”
Anyway, there was no signature on the note, so the next morning, my grandma grabbed Donald by one of his big, flabby ears (oh no, wait , that was Dumbo) and she dragged him to school to search out and destroy whoever wrote that damming note about her son.
When she got to Donald’s history class, she saw her daughter, my Mom, standing in the front of the class.
“Bernice, did you write this note?” she asked angrily.
“Which note?” my Mom said.
“The one that said “Congratulations. Your son is the dumbest person on the planet.‘”
“Why,” my Mom asked, “Do you have any other children you think would qualify?”
STAN: OK, not as boring as most of Goldstein’s stories. But I still don’t know why everyone makes such a big deal about Mother’s Day?
HARRIET: Don’t you remember good things about your Mom?
STAN: (STAN MUMBLES SOMETHING INCOHERENTLY.) Fhdignet hobad mdtedh!
HARRIET: What? What did you say?
STAN: Fhdignet hobad mothar! (AGAIN, STAN MUMBLES HIS WORDS SO THEY COULDN’T BE UNDERSTOOD. FINALLY, HARRIET DECIPHERED THEM.)
HARRIET: You said, “You didn’t have a mother?” Of course not , Stan. That’s what I’ve been telling you. You’re not real. You’re just something Jack dreamt up to make the blog more interesting,
NOW STAN’S FEELINGS WERE REALLY HURT. IT WAS BAD ENOUGH TO NEVER HAVE HAD A MOTHER. BUT NOW HARRIET CONVINCED STAN HE WAS JUST A CHARACTER INVENTED BY ME TO MAKE 10 MINUTES OF BRILLIANCE MORE INTERESTING.
STAN: That’s it, Harriet! I’m outta here! I QUIT! I want off this blog. It’s obvious I’m not wanted here anymore.
HARRIET: No, Stan, no. You’ve got it all wrong. You’re very important to Jack. He never writes a blog without you. To Jack, you’re practically his leading man. His hero. In fact, Stan, Jack thinks “You’re the Tops.”
WITH THAT COMMENT, HARRIET BREAKS INTO SONG, SINGING COLE PORTER’S HIT, YOU’RE THE TOP (If you know it, Sing a few bars to yourself, then read on. Here. It goes like this. You’re the top, your’e the Coliseum. You’re the top. You’re the Louvre Museum…)
HARRIET: Wasn’t that a touching story, Stan? You know, a mother’s love for her children is the strongest force in the Universe. It’s stronger than Hate, Greed or Power!
STAN: I guess so. But I still don’t see how it relates to me. I’ve never even had a Mother.
HARRIET: Well, you might have one one day, Stan, you never know. Maybe Jack will write your Mother into the blog.
STAN: Never happen, Harriet. Never in a million years.
HARRIET: We’ll see, you just never know.
HARRIET WINKS AT YOU, READERS, LETTING YOU IN ON HER LITTLE SECRET.
My Mom Considers Sawing Off my Sister’s Leg
When my middle sister, we’ll call her Rainy, because that’s her name, was 3 years old, she tried to climb out of her crib and got her leg stuck in the slats. Rainy screamed for help and my Mom came running. “Don’t worry, Rainy, I’ll get you out.” With that, my Mom ran out of the room. A minute later she returned with Ol’ Joe, a neighborhood handyman. Ol’ Joe was carrying a big rusty saw.
My sister Rainy screamed, ” Mom! Mom! What’s he gonna do? He’s not going to cut off my leg, is he?”
“Well,” my Mom replied, “You don’t think I’m going to ruin a perfectly good crib.”
My Mom, the Roller Blader. She wasn’t really Roller Blading. But she couldn’t resist putting on the outfit.
My Mom Uses the “F’ Bomb the First Time She Met My Oldest Sister’s in-Laws.
My oldest sister, JoAnn, had an engagement party in New York at my brother-in-law-to be’s apartment. Both families were equally represented and it was the first time anyone other than my sister and my soon-to-be brother-in-law ever had both families in the same room.. Throughout diner, my sister’s in-laws bragged about this book and that book..And this author and that author. This went on all evening, hardly giving anyone else a chance to talk.
Now, my Mom was an avid reader, but she didn’t feel she had to brag about it. Finally, during dessert, my Mom had a chance to speak. Rosalie, my brother-in-law to be’s mother asked my Mom, “Don’t you like to read, Bernice?” asking my Mom as if she were talking to some country bumpkin!
“No, Rosalie,” my Mom answered, “we don’t really read books in Baltimore. But we sure like to F*CK!.”
Of course, my Mom forgot her manners for a moment and didn’t use any asterisks to express how she was feeling. My Mom was quite a character.
Before reading the next post, please turn out the lights and hide, so we can surprise STAN.
Stan Meets His Maker. The notorious Stan meet his Mother for the first time. Again!
ALL OF A SUDDEN, OUT OF NOWHERE, THERE IS A KNOCK ON THE BLOG DOOR.
SFX: Knock. Knock.
STAN: Is this a knock knock joke?
HARRIET: No, I think someone’s at the blog door.
STAN: I didn’t know blogs have doors!
HARRIET: They do now. That’s the way Jack wrote it.
SFX: Sound of a door opening
STAN: Yes, how can I help you?
STAN’S MOM: STAN.
STAN HAS NO IDEA THAT THE WOMAN STANDING IN FRONT OF HIM IS HIS MOTHER!
STAN’S MOM: Don’t you recognize me, son?
STAN: Should I?
STAN’S MOM: STAN, I’m your Mother.
STAN: Right! Look lady, I don’t have a Mother.
STAN’S MOM: You do now! Jack just wrote me into the blog.
STAN’S MOUTH DROPS OPEN. HE CAN’T BELIEVE WHAT HE’S HEARING.
STAN: Are, are you sure you’re my Mom? My real Mom? (THE WORDS ALMOST GET CAUGHT IN STAN’S IMAGINARY THROAT.)
STAN’S MOM: Of course, Stan, I ought to know my own son, shouldn’t I?
STAN: B-but, how are you so sure?
STAN’S MOM: Your favorite food is steak. You hate asparagus and Lima Beans. And the only time you drink beer is when you’re having hard shell crabs.
STAN: Hard shell crabs?
STAN’S MOM: Yes, with Old Bay.
STAN: How do you know all that?
STAN’S MOM: I’m your Mother, STAN. Of course, I know everything about you. It’s in my job description. Look, if you don’t believe me, just look over here to the right.
STAN’S MOM POINTS TO THE LEFT SIDE OF THE BLOG, WHERE JACK HAS CLEARLY IDENTIFIED THIS NEW WOMAN IN STAN’S LIFE AS HIS MOTHER.
STAN: It’s true! You are my Mom! God, this is the happiest day in my blog life.
STAN’S MOM: Stan, how come you didn’t send me a Mother’s Day card? No card. No chocolates. No roses, No phone call. And when was the last time you cleaned up your room, Little Stanley? Or took a bath? Or ate your broccoli? Or visited your grandmother?
STAN IS ALL SMILES.
STAN: Listen to her. She’s only been my Mom for a couple minutes and already she’s driving me crazy.
STAN’S MOM: I love you, STAN.
STAN: I love you too….Mom.
Hey, I can’t believe you made it to the end of the blog. If you’re a new Reader and enjoyed it, I hope you’ll sign up at the top of my blog to read the next blog post where I’ll reveal:
1. The Shocking Truth About Kellogg’s Corn Flakes.
2. Do These Leased Jeans Make Me Look Fat?
3. The Importance of Brevity.
4. Are Computers Female or Male?
5. And Some Things I Haven’t Even Thought of Yet.
That’s All Folks!
Love this! What a character your mom was. I bet she has some other very talented grandchildren besides Monkey Noise’s mother.
Thanks, Dorie. You’ll always be one of my faves. Jack
Great, You’re great Jack! You just fulfilling Stan to meet his mom, on such a special day! And I take this chance to say hello and the best to your three impotant Moms; and good health to Mother Earth. Happy to read your blog again. Thank you.
Thanks, Jaco. You’re the inspiration for my renewing my blog after so long an absence, I’m working on a new one right now and it should be up in a day or two.
Clearly, the “apple didn’t fall too far from the tree” adage works well between you and your Mom! Stay safe, Jack!
Yes Darryl, or as we say it in my family, the nut doesn’t fall far from the Oak tree. Jack