Northern Michigan Notes
Mother's Day Madness
By Kathy English
May 9, 2008, 20:04

Everybody has one, and at this time of year, almost everybody has to shop for one.

Yes, ladies and gents, I’m talking about Mother’s Day.

Lest one scoff such a day as being strictly an excuse for greeting card companies and florists to make money, mothers everywhere have been recognized since 1912, according to "Mother’s Day on the Net–The History (AKA Her-story) of Mother’s Day," (http://www.holidays.net/mother/story.htm May 9, 2008).

Anna Reeves Jarvis, in 1858, started a Mothers’ Work Day in West Virginia.  It was supposed to "raise awareness about local sanitation issues." I can’t help but smile a little over this: When weren’t mothers aware of sanitation issues? I suppose "back then" ideas of sanitation were considerably different than they are now, though.

Julia Ward Howe tried in 1872 to honor mothers not necessarily for their role as sanitation awareness diehards, but for their "inclinations toward peace." Her chosen date to celebrate Mothers’ Day for Peace was June 2, and the effort was successful as long as she paid for everything–which she did for about ten years.

Mother’s Day as we know it in more modern times came about thanks to the efforts of the daughter of Anna Reeves Jarvis. After her mother’s death, daughter Anna Jarvis spent several years petitioning lawmakers and others to declare the second Sunday in May as "Mother’s Day." She wanted to "emphasize the role of women in their families."

Jarvis never intended for the day to be commercialized, and I would bet there are few women alive today who can remember the holiday being anything other than an occasion for a card, bouquet of flowers, or a gift.

For some, Mother’s Day is an occasion for elaborate gift-giving that rivals even Christmas. Sunday newspaper advertising increases in the weeks before the big day, pointing out to the oblivious man, "Hey stupid, it’s mother’s day so you’d better get your mom/wife/grandma a present."

The implication is the man must get a gift for every woman he's ever come in contact with just to cover all bases.

Retailers would like nothing more.

Some women are content with flowers. Others, with a card either store-bought or home made.

Others are disappointed if they don’t receive something other than the very best, which to some, means the most expensive.

My husband is getting lots of grief from his co-workers about the gift he is getting for the mother of his children (that’s me).

I suspect many of the women he works with are about to receive things like expensive purses, perfume that costs in the three-digits, jewelry, and what-have-you.

"So what are you getting your wife?" they asked my poor, unsuspecting husband this week.

"A garden hoe," he replied, perfectly content that he’d stumbled upon the ideal gift for me.

He was met with a mixture of dead silence, sounds of utter dismay, and the gaping mouths of disbelief.

"That’s terrible," they responded in perfect unison.

"But that’s what she ASKED for," my husband attempted to defend himself.

"It’s STILL terrible," they insisted.

No doubt every other man he works with was breathing sighs of relief that their gifts of bread machines, vacuum cleaners, and electric toothbrushes would be met with ecstatic sighs from their spouses. Compared to a garden hoe, they’d be spending a veritable fortune, after all.

In defense of my husband who always aims to please and is often faced with the response of "I don’t know," after querying "What would you like," I have to say I did, indeed, request a garden hoe for Mother’s Day.

But not just any garden hoe will do.

Mine must be long-handled, and I hear that those can be hard to find.

I’m not three feet tall. The makers of garden implements seem to think that people who use a hoe are three feet tall and don’t make the handles long enough. If you do any gardening work and are over three feet tall, you realize that using implements with short handles is really tough on your back.

So, because I’m tall, I like gardening tools with a long handle.

We don’t own a long-handled garden hoe.

And I want one.

I need one.

I require one.

Above all else.

Above a manicure, pedicure, facial, massage, expensive perfume, unlimited shopping at the store of my choice, dinner out, you name it.

I like to garden. Ergo, I require the proper tools.

And as long as it’s not pink, I’ll be pleased to have a long-handled garden hoe as my Mother’s Day gift.

My husband’s sentiment is in the right place. And I hope that Anna Jarvis would not roll over in her grave about that.