Tag Archives: moms

“And therefore He made mothers”

by Woody

More than a century ago, in 1914, President Woodrow Wilson proclaimed the second Sunday in May a national holiday in honor of mothers.

Along with moms, two big beneficiaries were a pair of fledging companies, both founded four years earlier: Florists’ Telegraph Delivery Association, better known as FTD, the country’s first flowers-by-mail service; and Hall Brothers Greeting Cards, which would later rebrand as Hallmark.

“All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother,” Abraham Lincoln once said, a sentiment worthy of gracing a Hallmark card for the rest of us to share with our own moms.

The great writer Rudyard Kipling perhaps put it best of all: “God could not be everywhere and therefore He made mothers.”

Motherhood, like God, is in the details. There are more examples of angel mothers’ godliness in small things than there are stars in the Milky Way, but here is one: Any sandwich tastes better when it is made by your mom for she always adds one extra ingredient – love – and, of course, knows if you prefer it cut in half diagonally or straight across.

The magic touch of moms extends far beyond sandwiches. Even when you are an adult, you will sleep sounder in a bed made by Mom; even when the same laundry detergent is used, clothes smell and feel better when Mom washes and folds them; and no hug can top Mom’s!

Yes, a mom’s love is in the details. One more example, from Mother’s Day a year ago. Our son and his young family came to visit, and my wife Lisa remembered that Greg and his lovely bride Jess favor a certain brand of non-alcoholic ginger beer that is hard to find. Lisa did not fail to find it.

Being a mom, Lisa also bought an extra six-pack for them to take home, along with two grocery bags filled with a cornucopia of favorite foods of theirs, and one-year-old Amara’s too.

While packing up to leave, Greg accidentally dropped a bottle of ginger beer on the kitchen floor and it exploded like a hand grenade with amber glass shards and bigger shrapnel flying everywhere. As messes go, it was a non-boozy doozy.

Lisa, bless her mommy heart, just laughed and asked her little boy if he was okay; asked him to step away carefully so he did not cut himself; told him not only that she would clean it up, but that she had been meaning to mop the floor anyway; all in a voice as sweet as when Greg was five and still called Greggie, for she did not want him crying over spilled milk – or spilled ginger beer.

Making the memory truly magical, however, is what happened next: Lisa’s little boy shooed her out of the kitchen so she would not get hurt, then swept up the glass and mopped the tile floor. The greeting card and flowers he had given her were nice, but this was the sweeter gift.

With this Sunday being Mother’s Day, let me close with another Hall Brothers card-worthy quote, from early-20th-century author Dorothy Canfield Fisher: “A mother is not a person to lean on, but a person to make leaning unnecessary.”

Wise words figuratively, yet sometimes literally leaning is wonderful. I say this after recently watching Greg, a little boy grown into a 6-foot-3 man, lean down and wrap his mom in a cocoon-like hug while resting his chin on her head. Lisa’s smile and eyes closed in contentment were evidence that any day with a child is a mother’s special day.

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

Woody’s new novel “The Butterfly Tree” is now available in paperback and eBook at Amazon (click here), other online bookstores, and is orderable at all bookshops.

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Woody writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn.

Fondly Missing ‘Mom’s Kitchen’

by Woody

“What is a restaurant that’s not around any longer that you miss?” asked a post on social media, eliciting more than a million responses including, locally, Ferraro’s, The Gin Mill, Bobby McGee’s and Anacapa Brewing Company.

To that Fab Four I could add myriad more – Hudson’s Grill, Ventura Spaghetti Company, Top Hat and Cartwright’s Famous Hot Dogs leap quickly to mind – but the restaurant I miss the very most is “Mom’s Kitchen.”

Perhaps your own Mom’s franchise remains open and, if so, count your blessings. My Mom’s Kitchen closed unexpectedly, and permanently, 31 years ago come October.

In its heyday – Oh, boy! – it was something. I dare say no fancy restaurant, casual café, famous chef’s food truck or 24-hour diner could ever rival it because it was all of those stirred, blended and folded into one.

Mom’s Kitchen, like similar landmark eateries, changed location over the years. It originated as a tiny hole-in-the wall in Columbus, Ohio, on Ashmore Road; soon moved into a slightly larger venue a mile away on McCoy Road; then, necessitated by its daily clientele ordering the kids’ menu alone having grown to four, expanded again nearby on Alliston Court.

Eventually, Mom’s Kitchen relocated across the country to Ventura, high atop the foothills, its best table having an ocean view that rivaled the famous Pierpont Inn’s dining room.

No matter its location, no reservations were required at Mom’s Kitchen – just walk right in and make yourself at home. Moreover, extra dinner mouths were always welcome as were bed-and-breakfast guests, the latter most commonly on weekends and any day in summer. On holidays, it was lucky the Fire Marshal didn’t shut Mom’s Kitchen down for being overcrowded.

More than once, before taking a plate a guest of mine and I would actually phone his rival location of Mom’s Kitchen to see if by chance it had a better dinner special that evening than my Mom’s Kitchen, but that very rarely proved to be the case.

Indeed, night after night, my friends, and my two older brothers’ and younger sister’s friends as well, flocked to our Mom’s Kitchen as if there were two giant golden arches out front of our house.

To be sure, hamburgers were sometimes on the menu, although they were usually grilled up by Mom’s sous-chef who, if we are being honest, was infamous for cooking the burgers a tee shot’s distance beyond the point of well done. Upon slapping a hockey puck onto a bun, the sous-chef would proudly announce, “Here you go, charred like in a fine restaurant.”

Meanwhile, Mom was a cordon-bleu-chef/short-order-cook who could turn hamburger into fifty fares – from meatloaf and stroganoff to tacos and burritos to her world famous spaghetti sauce served on handmade pasta, naturally, that made even my Italian mother-in-law Irish green with envy – all worthy of Michelin stars.

Back to the original R.I.P. eatery question, I dearly miss Leonardo’s Pizzaria from my boyhood, The New York Hero House in college, and most recently Ferraro’s. But most of all, I would wish for one more meal at Mom’s Kitchen.

I have a strong hunch you feel likewise about your own Mom’s Kitchen…

…unless, thank your blessed stars, it remains open for business. Perhaps its peak hours are now limited to special occasions like holidays and birthdays and any time you are in town. If so, I urge you to make travel plans and dinner reservations as soon as possible.

Better yet, just drop in unannounced – I’m fairly certain your Mom’s Kitchen won’t mind the surprise at all, especially this Sunday for Mother’s Day.

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

Woody writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His SIGNED books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Special Delivery for Mother’s Day

by Woody

FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM: @woodywoodburn

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Special Delivery for

Mother’s Day

The first Mother’s Day gift I remember giving my mom was a bouquet of flowers fashioned from colored tissue paper and pipe cleaners, plus gobs of paste and a bigger glob of love, that we made in first grade.

Mom, naturally, acted as thrilled as if it were a dozen long-stemmed roses because that’s what moms do.

The final Mother’s Day gift I gave my mom, 28 years ago – it is difficult to believe it has been that long – was a bouquet of real flowers. More importantly, I delivered them in person with a hug. She probably would have preferred a single dandelion and a bouquet of hugs.

These bookend reminisces bring to mind a story, perhaps apocryphal, that seems fitting to share on Mother’s Day Eve.

Harry was an extremely successful, and busy, businessman. The Friday before Mother’s Day his secretary called in sick and he realized he had not asked her to order flowers for his mom.

Harry believed in supporting local businesses so instead of going online he took a quick break and walked to a florist shop a few blocks from his office.

The owner began to show off a variety of special arrangements, but Harry was in a hurry. Truth is, he was always in a rush. In the business world, time is money after all. He hastily ordered a dozen long-stemmed red roses to be delivered two days hence on his mom’s doorstep 200 miles away.

“Those are for my mom,” Harry noted, adding: “Give me another dozen of the same, wrapped to go, for my wife.”

Exiting the shop, in a blind rush back to work of course, Harry collided with a young boy standing beside a bicycle.

“Watch where you’re going!” Harry snarled.

“I’m sorry, sir,” said the boy. “Um, could you lend me three dollars?”

“Don’t you mean give you three dollars?” Harry acerbically corrected the boy. “You aren’t planning to pay me back. Why do you need three dollars anyway?”

“Today’s my mom’s birthday and I want to buy her a beautiful flower,” the boy explained. “But I don’t have quite enough money.”

Harry’s heart softened, slightly. While reaching for his wallet he asked the boy where he lived.

“About five minutes that way,” replied the boy, pointing down the street.

Harry left his wallet in his back pocket. He had a better idea and plucked one of the roses from the bouquet for his wife – surely she would not even notice the difference between a dozen and 11 – and handed it to the boy.

“Give this beauty to your mom,” Harry offered with a wink.

“Wow! Thanks!” said the boy. “I’m gonna take this to her right now!”

With that the boy hopped on his bike and began to ride off – in the opposite direction of where he had indicated that he lived.

“Hey, son, I thought your house was that way,” Harry said, gesturing.

“It is,” the boy replied. “But the cemetery is this way – my mom died last year.”

“I’m so sorry,” Harry said, his voice cracking.

Eleven heartbeats of silence passed, one for each rose in Harry’s hand, before he spoke again. Handing the boy the remainder of the bouquet, he said: “Here, please put these on her grave.”

The boy took the full bouquet of roses and rode off while Harry wheeled around and went back inside the florist shop.

“I need to cancel that out-of-town delivery I just ordered,” Harry said. “Instead, I need you to put together two dozen roses to-go as quickly as possible. I’ve decided to deliver them today personally.”

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Check out my memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and my essay collection “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” …