Roger Varley has been in the news business almost 40 years with The Canadian Press/Broadcast News, Uxbnridge Times-Journal, Richmond Hill Liberal and Uxbridge Cosmos. Co-winner with two others of CCNA national feature writing award. In Scout movement over 30 years, almost 25 as a leader. Took Uxbridge youths to World Jamboree in Holland. Involved in community theatre for 20 years as actor, director, playwright, stage manager etc. Born in England, came to Canada at 16, lived most of life north and east of Toronto with a five-year period in B.C.
I miss my Mom
There are any number of times during the year when I think about my late mother, but I find that it's Mother's Day when I miss my Mom the most, even though she's been gone only three years.
This year, the reminders have been a little stronger. My nephew and his lady had a baby girl recently and named her Alice, in honour of my mother. And just this week, I talked to a couple who had a baby at home (see the story on page 1) on April 22, my mother's birthday.
To some of you, it might seem a little odd for a man of my years to admit that he misses his mother, but there you have it.
It's not that I was a “Momma's boy” or was tied to her apron strings. Far from it. Over the years, we had our fair share of arguments and strong disagreements and, indeed, one regrettable period of estrangement. But, all through my life, she was always there to give me encouragement and lend support.
She was a feisty lady who wasn't afraid to voice her opinion when she thought it was appropriate and that included letting her family know that she really didn't like Uxbridge that much. She was a city girl, born and bred, and would much rather have been living in the hustle and bustle and noise of Toronto. Uxbridge was too quiet for her, even at the age of 95 when she died.
When the good weather was upon us, she preferred blasting around Uxbridge on her scooter to sitting quietly at home. She and her friend, Barb Hanley, frequently scared the bejeebers out of motorists and pedestrians alike - and frequently put me close to a heart attack - with their nonchalant approach to the rules of the road. Not that they should have even been on the road. But more than once I watched in horror as my mother steered her scooter down the centre line of Reach Street. She claimed she had to be there because she was going to make a left turn down to Elgin Park.
She wasn't the kind of mother given to wearing flower-printed aprons. She loved the bright lights, gambling, sports and parties. And work.
She began her working career at the age of 14 and cried because she had to leave school. At the age of about 68, she cried because she had to give up going to work every day. This despite the fact that at one time she worked at three jobs at the same time in order to send her three children to a private school, She worked a full-time day job as an office manager and then went straight to a night job, getting home about 11 p.m. On weekends, she was off to her third job, working for the tote at various racetracks around England.
She did all that for her children because she was born in a poor, working-class neighbourhood where she had to be tough to survive and she wanted better for us. That's what led her and my father to come to Canada: to give us a better opportunity.
When I was a young boy, every summer Sunday morning, I would walk a few miles to the local city allotments to buy flowers for her from the people who tended their gardens there. I wish I could still buy her flowers.
I'd like to think that all of you with mothers will make an effort to do something special for her this Sunday. And it seems to me the best thing you can do is just say: “I love you, Mom”.
Tell me, am I wrong?
