In the Italian-American household Motherly duties were always assigned to the elder women, most families had 3 or 4 generations in a 3 story row house with a coal fired heater in the basement grated to the upper floors, with the winemaking apparatus in an adjacent cut out; this was the forbidden zone, you could play all day in the coal bin breathing in the dust, and waiting for the delivery to come hurtling down the chute, but never, ever get caught in Grandpops sacred wine vault! I mention the division of Mother’s duties to relate the story of my Mother’s life of trials and personal anguish, through which she battled with an amazing grace and a smile that would warm the darkest days. I learned about most of Mom’s mistreatment while caring for her at home with hospice help, an extraordinary group of caregivers, whom you must have to understand the psychology of hospice and the medicinal needs for patient comfort. I was the baby of the family, the third son who I’m convinced was the attempt to provide a girl since the first two were extremely unruly and had no interest in housekeeping duties, the name Frances was chosen to honor my Mothers Father Frank, who was dying of a brain tumor, if by some twist of fate a boy appeared, you just needed to change the e to an i, an ignominious beginning! The first stunning revelation from my Mother, as she faded into twilight, was the most dreaded tale of Motherhood besides losing a child. At no time in my 55 years had my Mom ever complained about anything, even when she begged me to get a haircut for the umpteenth time it was always her gentle persuasion that I was hearing; that being said, my Mother was Sicilian, the persuasion was unrelenting! We were talking about family situations on one of the many nights she had trouble sleeping from the cancer medicine and radiation that burned her. I must have asked a question about having my oldest brother, and the tears started streaming down her face and she started sobbing uncontrollably, for what seemed like forever she couldn’t utter a single word, I rushed to get some medication and finally eased her anguish with a compress. When she could finally speak she screamed, “they took my baby away from me” over and over. Her first born was turned over to the elder women, she had been abandoned by her own Mother and must have felt that her son would feel that same loss. It was my primary focus to keep her calm and comfortable, I never dared broach the subject again! My father was an alcoholic, a mean, disgusting alcoholic who would say obscene things to my Mom, and often got physical with her, this was the only time having three sons was a benefit to her, as long as we were around he couldn’t hurt her, but I’m sure he made up for that when they were alone. The strange part of course is that he loved my Mother desperately and could not function without her, he was a severely flawed human being raised by an unstable fire and brimstone bible belt woman who tried to beat the snark out of him. So my Mother had to be the breadwinner through our childhood and teens until Dad sobered up at forty. How she did it is one of the mysteries of life, in those days women could only get secretarial work, about 30 some dollars a week, and she never complained. When my father did have a job he would end up at the bar every payday until the check was gone. I would wait outside the bar and follow him home so he wouldn’t get hurt. Despite all the troubles I loved my father, I suppose it was hero worship and too difficult to let go of the father and son fantasy, but he never had a catch with me, never took me for a bike ride. I just say this to remind fathers that time is the most important thing you can give to your child, and love. This is a story not only about a Mother, but about all women who face these trials caused by society’s casual ignorance of their contribution to our well being and hope for the future. Many of the most caring women I’ve known are childless, and they convey an inexhaustible love and kindness that makes them a Mother to us all! They are constantly reminded by so-called well meaning family and friends that they can’t be fulfilled without having babies. Shame on anyone who propagates this stupidity, it is the height of misogyny and cruelty. Though my Grandmother abandoned my Mom, my Mother cared for her throughout her life, her father also left her, started a new family and rarely visited her. This testament to her is only a minute part of her courage, love, and incredible strength. One of her dreams was to see Hillary take the oath of office, she reminds me so much of my Mother, she never gives up and encourages all of us to be better. So I’m voting for my Mother’s wish, this ones for all the times you weren’t given opportunities you deserved, for all the love and hope you gave to everyone, and all the times you told me I was a perfect son. I bet you‘re glad it was a boy now!