From left to right: Front - Me and my little cousin Julie Balharrie. Middle - Great-grandmother Gilchrist; Grandfather, James Balharrie; my mom, Florence (Balharrie) Hogenkamp. Rear - my dad, Jan Hogenkamp; Grandmother Florence (Flossie) Balharrie; Uncle Watson Balharrie.Writing recently about my mother, has put me in a reflective mood about Mothers' Day. Most years I've thought so little about it. I always considered it a contrived celebration to strengthen the card, restaurant, flower, candy and gift industries. Of course when Maya was growing up we made a big deal of it because she would make me cards and gifts and write me poems, created as school projects, and encouraged by desperate teachers. She was very creative and enjoyed these special assignments greatly.
When she grew a bit older she made me coffee and served breakfast in bed. One year she put a big homemade signin the garden below my window so I could see "Happy Mother's Day. I love you Mom" when I raised my blind. She was infinitely imaginative and each year was a surprise. Oh how I loved Mothers' Day then.
Later, it started to lose its fun appeal and became more of a cultural ritual. Maya left home, went to university, then away far but she always called or sent a card. Yesterday was the same, she called, we talked and it was nice. The real fun this year was in receiving all the greetings from other Moms out there. We all seemed to feel the need to congratulate one another and through the magic of email we did. My other daughter Tracy sent me greetings and a sweet photo of her family.
I reflect on all the years I never could wish my mother Happy anything and I understand my own ambivalence. Still, Mothers' Day was not important when I was growing up. I think my Dad and I would give her flowers but that could have been for some other occasion because I don't really remember. At any rate, let me say it now Florence Balharrie, my Mom: It was you who taught me dignity, and it was you that passed on your values, your dislike of pretension, and love of reading and the arts. Proper deportment for every occasion may seem irrelevant today, but knowing how to behave smooths a lot of rough water and provides confidence. You taught me how to recognize quality and avoid kitch and eschew the superficial. You insisted on truth in all things, in particular you taught me to honour myself. Quaint as it may seem in the 21st Century, you raised me to be a lady- with manners, respect for others, and class. Looking at society now, I wish that more people were learning that lesson.
Thank you Mom. I hope I haven't disappointed you, and oh yes - Happy Mothers' Day!
