Sigmund, Carl and Alfred

Happy Mother’s Day!

Although we’ve been apart for quite awhile now, celebrating Mother’s Day has always been a special day for me.

Last week, HRH (Her Royal Highness) asked that I write you a Mother’s Day card. Inasmuch as she has me wrapped around her little finger, I agreed.

We may be divorced now, but whenever I look at our daughter, I know marrying you was no mistake. You turned out to be the mother I knew you’d be, and then some. Our daughter is testimony to that. She would not now be the beautiful young lady she is had it not been for you.

Every Mother’s Day, I think back to the day HRH was born.

Your mother was visiting (that’s what you said. I said she had moved in with us. A six month stay is not a ‘visit.’ It is permanent residency), hovering over you as if you were a porcelain doll (who ate like Shamu), waiting for her debut as ‘grandmother.’ We joked about how, as soon as HRH was born, your mother would announce, ‘I’m ready for my close-up now, Mr Demille.’

Just after midnight, you got out of bed, and less than a minute later, called out, ‘I think it’s time.’ or something to that effect, followed up with drill sergeant orders barked out to your mother in the Slavic language of your forefathers. The tone and speed of those remarks scared the hell out of me. Then and there I promised myself I would finish every kilogram of the Eastern European potato, cheese, cream, buttermilk, pastries, bacon and other delights made with chicken fat, beef fat, pork fat and lord knows what other fats you heaped on my plate, excavated in copious amounts from that bottomless blue speckled pot. You had never taken that tone of voice with me- and I didn’t want to give you reason to change that.

With those few short sentences barked out in a foreign language, you went from being my wind tossed gentle flower, to a flaming cactus, fired from a long range artillery gun on HMS Illustrious.

I don’t recall the drive to the hospital, save for you telling me to slow down. I do remember pulling up to the ER entrance and being met by a nurse with a wheelchair. After helping you get situated in the chair, the nurse firmly informed me that I was responsible for parking the car, not her. She would do the wheelchair pushing unattended by me, having pushed many a wheelchair in her day.

I parked the car. Twice in the span of an hour I had heard the voice- yours and that of Nurse Ratchett.

I did all the things first time dads do during labor. I stayed with you for 20 to 30 minutes at a time, then went down the hall to the vending machines. There was no shortage of industrial pastry wrapped in cellophane to buy (color blind people cannot distinguish the flavor between the ‘chocolate’ and the cream’ filling of industrial pastry. Yum). I walked around, paced and commiserated with the only other expectant father at the time. He was waiting on his fourth child, so he knew the drill. On his way down, he called in an order to a sandwich shop and picked up three large sandwiches, chips and pastry. He was engrossed in a magazine and he didn’t seem to have a care in the world. You have to admire guys with experience.

Just before 4:00 AM, the doctor announced it was time to go to the delivery room. I donned the blue gown and booties and tied my mask. I was scared, but I didn’t want to show it. I was afraid I wasn’t ready for the responsibility, afraid I’d screw up and afraid I’d run away. You must have been reading my mind because you told me not to worry, everything would be fine. I didn’t believe you, but I had enough sense not to argue.

HRH was born at 4:12 AM.

I remember standing to the side, out of the way. When HRH made her debut (and trumped your mother), I recall how quiet the room was, save for the medical equipment beeping away and HRH’s tiny cry. I remember looking at the doctor and nurse and saying, “I always believed in God. Now I know.”

A lot of water has passed under the bridge since that day.

While our marriage has dissolved, we have developed a friendship based on the shared desire we have in wanting nothing but the best for our daughter. When we knew we would be apart, we agreed that the best interest of HRH was in our best interest. We made it a point not to speak ill of each other in front of HRH and in fact, we never have. That was probably the best decision we ever made, together.

HRH is happy, confident and independent. I know we have each done the best we can to make that happen, but in fact, you were there every day to make sure things went smoothly (with my money. OK, OK, I’m kidding). That, and a bit of luck seems to have fallen our way.

We have gone our separate ways, of course. We have moved on, we have grown and we have learned, from our experiences and from our daughter. One thing is certain- how much poorer our lives would have been without her!

All in all, we’ve done pretty well in an imperfect world.

I wish you the best as always, and much happiness. May your table overflow with the potatoes, cheese, cream, buttermilk, pastry, bacon and other delights made with chicken fat, beef fat, pork fat, and lord knows what other fats that I no longer have to eat. I and my arteries are most grateful for that.

I’m in a good mood. What the heck, give my best to your mother and Mr Demille.

Happy Mother’s Day.

At the request of Her Royal Highness, the incredibly attractive, brilliant, charming, talented , witty only daughter and heiress apparent to the SC&A Institute and fortune, we have republished this post and will probably do so until the end of time.

MHNN (Ann Arbor, MI)- As the 2008 race for the White House continues, the candidates are taking a break from the campaign trail today to celebrate Mother’s Day.

Pat Santy, former NASA psychiatrist and organic waste in space disposal expert and author of the Carnival Of The Insanities agreed to sit down with the candidates and talk to them about what Mother’s Day means to them and how their respective mothers have influenced them.

The session was attended Democrat candidates Bill and Hillary Clinton and  Barack and Michele Obama. They were joined by Republican candidate John McCain.

Patricia M Santy (PMS)- Good morning and Happy Mother’s Day!

(Group, in unison)- Happy Mother’s Day to you too!

PMS- OK, I’d like to get started this week by asking each of you to tell me about your mothers and the role they played in your life. Bill, why don’t you start.

Bill Clinton (BC)- My mother was a very special woman. She pretty much raised me on her own after my dad was killed- and that was at a time when that wasn’t so easy. When she went off to nursing school I was left with my grandparents until she finished her studies. My momma knew exactly what kind of role models she wanted me to have. My grandparents had a small grocery store and was one of only a few places where African Americans could get credit when they needed to feed their family.

PMS- She sounds like quite a woman!

BC- Oh, there’s more to her than that. We were dirt poor and from the wrong side of the tracks, so to speak, but that didn’t matter one bit to my mother. She made sure her kids kept up in school and she believed in us. She married for a second time, to man who regularly beat her, but despite her situation, she kept her eye on the ball. I went off to college on scholarships, became a Rhodes Scholar and attended Oxford, all safe in the knowledge and security that my mom was behind me and would always be there for me. I know all about the American Dream because my mom believed in that same dream. My many failings are my own- but my belief that in America anything is possible is the result of my mom teaching me just that lesson.

PMS- Hillary, tell us about your mother.

Hillary Clinton (HC)- Sure. My situation was very different form Bill’s. I grew up in a stable and solidly middle class home anchored by mother. I was lucky to have my father around.  Though he worked long, hard hours, my mother was always there to keep my world and life stable. Make no mistake- though my mother was a homemaker, she wanted me to have my own independent and professional career and she influenced my dad in that regard. He was a traditional man in every sense of the word, but he was all for me doing whatever I wanted to do. He believed gender had no place in determining or stifling dreams.

PMS- She sounds pretty formidable!

HC- She was! She made sure I was on top of my game in school, academically and in sports. I played baseball, was on the school swim team, just to name a few sports. My mom encouraged me to get involved. I was a Brownie and Girl Scout, and I worked for and earned lots of awards and badges. My mom supported me in everything I did. In high school, I was on the student council, wrote for my school newspaper and I made the National Honor Society and later became a national Merit Finalist.  As Bill said, my mistakes are my own. My mom was a rock for me.

Barack Obama (BO)- People find it easy talk about my mom disparagingly, as if they knew her. In a way, Bill and I have a lot in common- we didn’t have it so easy growing up. My mom was an idealist and sometimes, idealists are easy targets for political cynics. Anyway, even after my mom remarried, she never lost her idealism. She wanted to leave a markand make the world a better place. She went to Indonesia with the idea that she could make a difference. My mother had a certain strength- she left me with her parents when she realized that would be best for me. My grandparents stepped up to the plate and raised me. They taught me about hard work and effort and making a difference. Iam really lucky- I had the best of both my mother and grandmother to guide me. Like I said a few weeks ago, only in America is my story possible. Because of the influence those two women had on me, I was able to attend and succeed at Columbia and Harvard, where I was the first black president of the Harvard Law Review. I learned about making America a better place. I went on to teach constitutional law at University of Chicago. My politics are my own, but my life could only have unfolded in America, under the guidance of two great women.

Michelle Obama (MO)- My mom worked a lot of years so us kids would make it out. She made sure we weren’t swallowed up by the streets of the South Side of Chicago. She and my dad showed us what a lot of folks, black and white, never knew- real stability. My brothers and I came home every day from school, did our homwork and then the whole family sat down to dinner. We did that every single night. My mom made sure of that. My brother Craig and I went on to college and beyond, all because my mom and dad took it for granted we would. They had high expectations of us. My missteps are my own, but when the Michelle Obama story will finally be told, the real successes of beginning, middle and end of that story will reflect the lessons and efforts of my mom.

John McCain (JC)- I’m the lucky one here today- my mom is still with us.  You know, people talk about me as if my mom were a minor influence in my life. Well, nothing could be further from the truth! My mother had a great influence on me. My dad and I went to Annapolis but was more of a rebel, like my mom. I broke just about every rule, written and unwritten. I stood up for friends, ideas and principles when I didn’t have to and just about ignored anything that didn’t hold my interest. While my dad was busy being an Admiral and helping to run the Navy, my my mom was busy running the ship and dry dock that was our home. My mother made a lot of sacrifices in her life, all in support of my father’s career. I learned a lot from her, about graciousness, humor and strength. When I was a prisoner of war in North Vietnam and subjected to some of the most inhumane treatment imaginable, in those darkest days, I wasn’t thinking about my father and grandfather only. I wanted my mom to know that I Iearned from her example of sacrifice and strength and even in the worst of conditions, I could be the man and leader she would be proud of. I made through my ordeal because I learned about duty and courage from my mother as well as my father. I wanted to get home to my mom to tell her that. All of us have a lot to be grateful for, for sure and that is no small measure  because pf our mothers and grandmothers. I know my mom would be proud to call your mothers ‘friends.’ By the way Doctor Santy, I want to thank you for putting up that video I made with my mom in the number one spot of the Carnival Of The Insanities.

PMS- Our time is almost up. There is one story I’d like to add. Allow me to read something I wrote:

…Or the love and gratitude, I feel for my mother’s mother, who took me out to lunch one day and encouraged me to become a doctor–and not to listen to my mother, who felt it was not appropriate that a woman go into a “masculine” career. “I came to this country because there was no future for women where I grew up. But you are an American and you are free to grow up and be whatever your abilities permit.”

Did I mention that my Grandmother at age 15 stowed away on a boat to America and entered New York without a penny to her name, ultimately starting her own sewing business, before she met my Grandfather?

My immigrant Grandparents always understood what this country was fundamentally about.

In short, while I was lucky enough to be born an American, I am proudly descended from some incredible people who chose to be American. And I salute them and thank them from the bottom of my heart. In fact, I believe the real strength of this country comes from people who consciously and deliberately choose the liberty that America offers–whether they are born between the shining seas of this wonderful land or they make their way here by other means.

You know, we have all been blessed with wonderful mothers and grandmothers- and we are doubly blessed that in America, those wonderful prayers and hopes our mothers and grandmothers have for us, are in reach. That is a lesson I have learned and will pass down.

Pat Santy is the author the weekly Carnival Of The Insanities. She is also the adored mother of a teenage daughter.