Writing with Rox WEEKLY—The Truth About Mother's Day

Dear Ma,

First, Happy Mother's Day. Also, be on the look out in the mail for Krisna Das's new CD. I hate to spoil the surprise, but I know how you get with mail. I know how the daily pile gets shoved atop the other daily piles and then you lose the piles and it's a year until you find the original pile. And I really want you to open it on or before Mother's Day because I signed up for Amazon Prime just so you'd get it on time. It's an awesome CD and it will help you remember what you love. Chant and be happy, as they say. Remember last summer when I was visiting with Jude and you started calling me a Hare Krisna?  Last Sunday we joined the Hare Krisna float at the Mayday Parade. It was a hoot. Remember when the Hare Krisna parade went down the Venice Beach Boardwalk when I worked there? Live elephants and all? What a great childhood I had, working on Venice Beach. Thanks for allowing me and encouraging me and supporting me in doing all that crazy counter culture shit. I am such a happy adult today because of all that wild creativity. 

 I hope you don't mind me sharing your Mother's Day card this year with my readers. If I haven't said so already, my students love you. They love the predictable "fuck" that will come out of your mouth in every scene; they love the unconventional way you and dad raised us, best friends living a block apart, frequenting single's events together, remaining close until the day dad died. They love how you can't declutter your house; that you live in LA, that you are maybe going to BhaktiFest with me this year. They love that you threw me out of the car with Li in Santa Monica when we were ten because I was manic on sugar and flying high and you'd had enough and threw two quarters at us, saying, "Here's 50 cents! You two fuckers can take the bus home!"

They love knowing that as you read this you will be shaking your head going "I did not!" and then a minute later going, "I did?"

 One thing I always tell my writers is that every character on the page oughta be lovable; no matter how foreign or odd or different their character, we at some point will grow to love them. It's inevitable, both on the page and in life; anyone we linger with we can't help but love in one way or another.  Why? To write about anybody in such detail for so long, knowing them so well, can only come out of a fierce love, which is the inherent love of daughters, I think. And if the writer loves the character, so must we. In other words, Ma, you must know I love you even when you come across nuts on the page.

For the past three days I have given my writers this prompt: The Truth about Mother's Day. Nothing more, nothing less. See where it goes. 

In the giving and receiving of these stories, there were so many gifts.  Tears, laughter, nods of approval and understanding, heads bobbing in bewilderment, shaking in shock. The stories were beautiful, evoking different mothers across different lifetimes. When my men were leaving last night after writing together with me, one of them remarked about how much lighter he felt, how free. 

One thing that stood out more than anything was the consistent theme of "I'm over it," whatever that happened to mean for them. I, of course, added my two sense by saying how writing about you has been the biggest part of healing our relationship for me. 

This morning while making the bed I was remembering one of the first mornings Jude was born when I was in the hospital and the nurse casually remarking that, "Boys love their Mamas." I must have slurred in my fevered state how I thought I was having a girl, but was delighted to have a boy. Was that true, Ma? Did Ben love you fiercely? Did I?

Oh, the places this prompt can go and will go. Feel free to chime in, Ma. You and everyone else. And for those who have written with me already, please do share your stories with your mothers or "mothers" or whoever else will be so touched and healed in the sharing.  And/Or share right here on the blog.

Love and hugs, Rox

So there you go: The truth about Mother's Day...