My mother went to Swarthmore at 17. I have seen pictures of her then – a very pretty brown-eyed girl who, well, had a figure pleasing to men. I learned what the word "chic" meant when I read the description of her in the college yearbook. She met my father at a freshmen mixer dance, and they went on to a long and successful marriage. I talked to my mother yesterday, as I do every Saturday, and we went over the news of family, friends, and the big world. My mother is part of my wisdom circle, and I am proud to be part of hers.
My daughter just turned 18, and will go to Swarthmore in the fall. She is a very pretty brown-eyed girl who, well, has a Marilyn figure. Last night my wife and I had the pleasure of enacting a classic scene with her as she got ready for the prom. She had been to the hairdresser, and came back with what she has taught me is an "up-do." Her mother had latched that hard-to-reach hook in the back, and our eldest was before us in a halter dress like the one that Marilyn Monroe wore in "The Seven Year Itch" in the famous updraft scene, except our girl's dress was black. We watched her put the last touches of her makeup on, a skill she certainly did not learn from her nerdy parents.
As I watched my daughter get ready, I thought of my mother, whom she resembles.
Thank you delightful daughter.
Happy Mothers' Day, Mom.