Category: mailbag

Sounds like Gill’s mom had a pretty nice Mother’s Day. I wouldn’t mind some of that cake myself.

Remember a few months ago I asked you wonderful readers to vote on a cake that I would make for my mom as a thank you for everything she does or has done for me? Would you like to know what happened?

Stage 1

About six weeks ago I enlisted the help of a friend, someone my mom knew from when she was a teenager. I called her up on a cold day stating that I wanted to do something nice for mom, and asked if she would go in on the surprise. She agreed, but told me she would be away for the Mother’s Day weekend with her own family and asked if a few days later would work. I agreed, and we set to work putting not only an elaborate deception but a symbol of caring into motion.

Stage 2

I involved my dad shortly after, as he would be the one taking me to our friend’s house to make the cake. I also told my mom that I would need to go to our friend’s to help sort photos of when I was a kid.

Stage 3

The day we baked the cake my mom became a little suspicious. She had suggested in a round about kind of way that I might be up to some kind of no good. I told her that I was looking at photos and helping our friend sort.

Stage 4

The moment finally arrived. My parents and their friends sat at the dining room table when my friend suggested I come with her for a moment. She produced the cake, and I brought it to my mom, and like the dying minutes of a sit com from when I was a kid, I confessed that there were not any pictures, but this was something I had been thinking of, scheming, and doing for the last little while. I also thanked her for the time she spent in the hospital with me last June.

Further Thoughts

The cake we ended up making was a pecan cheese cake. I stayed up beyond midnight thinking of exactly the right words to say to her.

I’m glad Gill wrote this, because it’s given me the push to post a couple things that I’ve been meaning to post for a while. First, a song.

And next, this essay that really scrambled up my brain as it’s intended to do. When I found it, all that was written was below the ***’s.

Finally, before I let her take it away, I want to clarify something. When she references being shown the Nazi salute, it was in drama class as part of a play. Also, this was at a school for the blind, so the teacher assumed that the kids probably didn’t know how it looked, so had to physically show them. I know the woman to whom she is referring, and I think she would be heartbroken to think that Gill thought she was trying to encourage the kids to support what is embodied by Nazism rather than realizing she was just showing them how to act a part in a play.

Over the last several years, several acts of hate and terror have occurred. Charleston, Charlottesville, Pittsburgh, and just last week the good people down in New Zealand experienced it on a scale that no nation or person should experience it. Shout out to the Prime Minister and other high-ranking officials there for putting laws in place that would prevent this sort of thing.

Shame Game

These acts don’t just hurt the victims or their fellow countrypeople. The sadness and grief goes around the world. In my own personal way, it kicked me in the stomach and created deja vu. Over twenty years ago, I was in a high school drama class and we were taught the Nazi Salute along with the “heil Hitler!

When I woke up last Saturday morning, I couldn’t even look myself in the mirror. I felt those same feelings of shame to be white that I did twenty years earlier. I rarely spoke of them, but brought it up with my prayer group that morning at church. They told me not to be ashamed, but to feel good that I have a social conscience.

Thoughts

We all have, and should do something good each day. It doesn’t have to be major, but something as simple as saying hello to your neighbors, or holding the door for someone. Like my mother told me after the Paris attacks, “we can be agents for change and peace.”

Gill is looking for some input if anyone has any. Personally I like the sound of chocolate cherry.

Normally mischief is a bad thing when it falls into the wrong hands, but if done right it can and does make someone’s day. Whether buying someone lunch or just surprising a co-worker who could use some cheering up by bringing them their favorite coffee or tea, it is a good thing.

Something For Mom

As you know, last year I got really sick, required surgery, and developed complications. I had an ally in the fight, my mom. Inspired by the fact that Mother’s Day isn’t too far away, I thought of doing something for her. A family friend and I hatched a plan to make her a cake, problem is it’s going to be after Mother’s Day as my mom’s friend is away Mother’s Day weekend with her children and grandchildren. But we set up a date to bake sometime during that week.

Here’s Where You Come In

With out giving much away, I secretly asked my mom what her favorite cake was, and in typical mom fashion she said, “any cake I don’t have to make.”

So here are several options I’ve been tossing around. If you were mom, which would you like?

• Traditional chocolate
• Chocolate cherry
• Vanilla
• Marbel
• black forest
• coffee cake
• Lemon poppyseed

Here’s Gill with an update on how life is going for her.

You might have a couple of questions about this. No, I’m not joining a neighborhood street gang or secret society. I am, however, volunteering.

Why The Name?

The volunteers are issued navy blue vests. It’s a symbol of recognition for all volunteers throughout the Hamilton Network of hospitals.

Why Am I Doing This?

There are a couple of reasons.

A few years back I had a minor procedure to remove a benign cyst from my left knee at the hospital I’ll be volunteering at. The surgeon and technicians were really good, and I thought I should give back to a health center that served me so well.

I’m also doing it in memory of my late great friend Eric Williams {Jan. 2 1976-Apr.22 2014}.

It Runs In The family

About 25 years ago my late grandmother Mildred Ardiel {June 22 1919-Jan 22 2009}, volunteered at our community hospital. She, and sometimes I, would go around delivering either ice cream or cookies and tea to the patients.

Fun fact: before the maternity ward shut down at that hospital, I actually saw a baby, hours old, in all its red, wrinkly glory.

What Will I Be Doing?

Probably something similar to what my grandmother did.