Mama Bunny

March 26th, 2018 by Harrumpher Leave a reply »

My mother,  Wanda, thoroughly grokked celebrations and gifts. She was better at those than I am or shall ever be.

Come Easter, yes of course, we did church (as every week) and the mandatory dressed up in new clothes pictures, but oh the baskets. They were always fancy and full, and I remember it, she already customized them for our candy and toy preferences.

Her whole life, she carried that over to birthdays and Christmas, particularly the latter. For her children and grandchildren, she did her more particularized purchasing. If you liked something, she made it her duty to provide it.

For our first son, one expression was seemingly every damned Masters of the Universe figure (and those where big honking gnarly dolls). Nothing came up to the Christmas when she provided him the G.I. Joe masterpiece, the 7-foot 6-inch long air-craft carrier. The USS Flagg covered most of his bedroom floor and attracted many of chums for loud in-house play dates.

I and college chums recall the surprise boxes she’d send at birthdays or holidays when I was at school and not her house. A particularly memorable Halloween box included along with waaaaay too much candy, a bright orange strobe jack o’lantern. Yes, strobe.

I was more Wanda-ish this way when I was a young parent. However, my uxorial unit still brings it to my attention when I act out for my sons or grandchildren. I haven’t fallen into oldsters’ lethargy and still make an effort. Although this year’s Easter baskets have maybe a third the variety of ones she would have stocked.

Truth be told, I lean that way because she raised me that way.

 

 

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