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Recently in Salon Mothers Who Think

Supplicant
My mother gave me up before either of us knew the value of a mother. After her death, I no longer confuse longing with love.
By Kathryn Harrison
[05/11/00]

ILOVEYOUTOO!
Let's take a moment to appreciate the brutal sexual politics of the love virus.
By Jonathan Poletti
[05/10/00]

My four favorite photos of my mother
Her true selves are revealed, as real as uncut gems.
By Amy Bloom
[05/10/00]

My mother the nun
It's true she was a bride of Christ -- just don't ask for details of the marriage.
By Theresa Rusho
[05/10/00]

Summer of the monkey-boys
A hot summer day, a carload of teenage boys and a dangerous driving mistake reveal a mom's capacity to pardon boyhood transgressions.
By Colin Harrison
[05/09/00]

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Like me, all the kids used to go to the movies every Tuesday, accompanied by their mothers. In Israel, where we lived during the '60s, there was a recess in the middle of each film. The kids usually stood in line to buy popcorn while the mothers went together to the ladies' room.

However, to my discreet sorrow, my mother acted differently.

On our first trip to "Gone With the Wind" she went into the film projector room during the recess, and returned only after the lights went back off. She was a beautiful woman, and we never had to pay for a movie ticket again. (And mind you, I watched the same movie three more times before I finally stopped accompanying her.)

Also Today Supplicant My mother gave me up before either of us knew the value of a mother. After her death, I no longer confuse longing with love. By Kathryn Harrison The series An introduction to this week's series By Jennifer Foote Sweeney Beyond Hearts and Flowers We devote a week to Mother's Day and the messages that don't fit on the cards.

My mother learned important lessons from the film. She took down the living room curtains and sewed them into a pretty dress for herself and a nice suit for me. She mastered the sewing machine perfectly.

Evidently, Scarlett O'Hara had great success with her velvet curtain dress. My case was different. The building where we lived consisted of small apartments arranged around an open patio, and the patio kids always stayed in each other's homes. That's how everyone knew that my suit had been made of curtains.

"Now that you have a suit, will your mom use your clothes as curtains?" Jacob asked.

Nastier suggestions followed. Joe, the oldest boy, asked if my mom's bra could cover the bare living room window.

Three times I arrived home marked with signs of fighting. I claimed it had been a fight over a boy, because I knew my mother would admire that. She was a romantic, after all. I experienced hard times, but she seemed so proud of our new clothes, and I had no heart to refuse her gift. How could I? She said I was the most wonderful princess she had ever dressed.

And business had never been better. My mother had developed a delicate marketing strategy, after she realized how impressed the neighbors were by her ability to create clothes. Soon, many living rooms lost their curtains, to be replaced with straw blinds, and the women brought the fabric to Mom. She invited "the ladies" (as she called them) for tea and involved them in light conversation. My mother was the only daughter of a professor of literature, as well as a dancer, and she had inherited the brilliance of both. As a result, she easily charmed anyone around her. When the women felt completely at ease, she told them the price of the clothes. At that point, nobody could have refused her anything.

Next page | "So why were you not the star?"