“My mother was a fairy princess.”
So said Winston Churchill of his American-born mother.
This afternoon I was relying on Netflix to bring a bit of popular culture into my life. The venue -- Avery Fisher Hall. The event -- a concert to celebrate Stephen Sondheim’s 80th birthday.
Audra McDonald was singing “The Glamorous Life” from A Little Night Music. A daughter’s bittersweet anthem comparing her actreess mother to “ordinary mothers.”
Her execution was perfect. Somewhere in the middle of the song, I felt an odd emotional connection with the lyrics.
Which ordinary mothers can't do
Being ordinary mothers all day
Mine’s away in a play
And she’s realer than they
Then it hit me.
The song is a salute to my mother.
I need to explain. Unlike Desiree Armfeldt, my mother is not an actress. But she could have been. I have little doubt she could have been whatever she wanted to be.
Her career is varied. Model instructor. Small business owner. Realtor. Counselor to politicians. Woman of faith. Hers is a glamorous life.
I have heard her say wistfully that she was a “stay at home” mom. Something she desired above everything else. But that is not entirely true.
It is true that being a mother was her prime role in this play we call life. She was always there whever my brother or I needed her.
But she was no helicopter mom. We were raised to be independent and self-reliant. Knowing full well that Mom (and Dad) would be there in the background if we needed them. Like the Flying Wallendas.
Had she put her mind to it, she could easily have been one of those Manhattan socialites who float from party to fuindraiser to the theater.
Instead, she was one of the women who blazed the path of balancing family and career. And who could teach, by example, what it was to be virtuous, filled with grace, and practical -- while being glamorous.
I have probably heard the song at least a dozen times But it really hit a chord today.
And isn’t that just like life? We often take for granted what most matters in our lives -- until we receive these little pricks of the heart.
So, Mom, thank you for who you are and for what you have helped me be.
This song’s for you.
I need to explain. Unlike Desiree Armfeldt, my mother is not an actress. But she could have been. I have little doubt she could have been whatever she wanted to be.
Her career is varied. Model instructor. Small business owner. Realtor. Counselor to politicians. Woman of faith. Hers is a glamorous life.
I have heard her say wistfully that she was a “stay at home” mom. Something she desired above everything else. But that is not entirely true.
It is true that being a mother was her prime role in this play we call life. She was always there whever my brother or I needed her.
But she was no helicopter mom. We were raised to be independent and self-reliant. Knowing full well that Mom (and Dad) would be there in the background if we needed them. Like the Flying Wallendas.
Had she put her mind to it, she could easily have been one of those Manhattan socialites who float from party to fuindraiser to the theater.
Instead, she was one of the women who blazed the path of balancing family and career. And who could teach, by example, what it was to be virtuous, filled with grace, and practical -- while being glamorous.
I have probably heard the song at least a dozen times But it really hit a chord today.
And isn’t that just like life? We often take for granted what most matters in our lives -- until we receive these little pricks of the heart.
So, Mom, thank you for who you are and for what you have helped me be.
This song’s for you.
