My Cousin's Graduation

If you did not know, a West Point cadet is not honor bound to snap your neck if you step onto the parade ground lawn unbidden.  This was just one of the things I learned when I went to share in the graduation celebrations of West Point’s class of 2009 yesterday.  My cousin is a member of this class and he took time out to help me and more of his family get acquainted with his life on base.

We saw train ups, boot camps, beast teams and salutations from many summer cadets.  We took cookies from an event we weren’t invited to.  We joked about snipers on the roofs and argued about whether the big chain that was once stretched across the Hudson was meant to keep the British out of Manhattan or keep them in.  Six plaques dedicated to this chain could not grant us a winner.

Also, skipping rocks on an army lake is almost as easy as anywhere else, but skipping bark here is nearly impossible.

After reading The Lords of Discipline, I was surprised to learn that West Point upper-classmen are not allowed to put broomsticks behind your knees and make you squat until you pass out.  They are allowed to make you paint many wrought iron things however.

The blocky, masculine buildings stand out in my mind as different from any I’ve seen before.  This “West Point” of the Hudson River is indeed worth the hour and a half trip from NYC if you get a chance.  And if you get a chance with your family and a West Point graduate, then you’re in for a real treat.

Late Mother's Day Love

When I think about my mother, I think about more than just smelly diapers and college graduation. I think about all the personal touches she adds to my life. Like when I visit home and reminisce about the 15 boxes of cereal we got to choose from as kids. Immediately, she wants to recreate this memory and offers to be back in 15 minutes if I just say the words, Lucky Charms. “Mom, I don’t need any, I was just remembering.” With a pouty face, feigned playfulness and hidden regret, she laughs along with her family. Of course, coming upstairs the next morning I find a box of you-know-what on the counter, evidence of a special trip to the store before work.

I also think about how she makes herself available by phone every hour of every work day no matter what she’s doing. In fact, the only time I’ve ever been hurried to finish a conversation or speed up the babble has been when one of my siblings was on the other line. Yes, she gets called down by her boss. Yes, she has work for which she’s responsible and that she enjoys. Yes, she doesn’t care. Priorities?

The most thoughtful replies to the goofiest thoughts? You ain’t seen nothin’. The person who remembers all your friends’ names and who they are to you? Meet the master. That supermarket line stranger who shares a laugh just to spread some of her joy? Yeah, you learned that from my mom, right? Right.

A mother is a sacred thing. One who braves messes of mind, spirit and digestion and comes out clean on the other side. All I know is she looks good doing it and makes us all better for it.

I know I’m a little biased but my mom is the best of all moms.