Published: May 09, 2008 07:17 pm            

DAVID SULLENS: This is why we love our mothers

Editor’s note: Athens Daily Review Publisher David Sullens first shared this story many years ago and has made its retelling a personal Mother’s Day tradition since.

Mothers — and grandmothers — are special and as you celebrate yours this weekend, I’d like to share with you a story about my own that I think illustrates that.

My story took place long ago, but not so far away. I was a young (that’s the “long ago” part) parent at the time, living in Paris, Texas.

It was a couple of months before Christmas and we had decided to grant our oldest daughter’s Christmas wish. That wish was that, instead of gifts, she be given money so she could shop and choose her own.

We didn’t tell her we’d reached that decision, but on the chance that we would, she had already begun her shopping. She watched the ads in the newspaper closely and she made notes. She looked constantly at catalogs. She put in more hours walking the aisles of the local stores than did the managers of those stores.

Her notes grew and developed into a list of the things she would buy and where she had found the best prices on them.

That list was fluid.

It changed from day to day as, for instance, a new item was discovered, necessitating a shuffling of the list to make the “bottom line” come out right.

But the basic items remained the same.

The kid knew what she wanted and she was learning that dollars were finite; that what had sounded like a lot of money when she made her request might not, in the end, buy a lot of stuff.

And, bad news for unwary merchants, she was learning to be a comparison shopper. If one of the items on her list appeared in a newspaper ad for a few cents less than she had it on her list, she knew it and, unless the price went back up before she got her money, you can bet that’s the store that was going to get her business.

Finally came Christmas day. Santa came through and the money was there.

Christmas came on a Saturday that year and that was back when stores didn’t open on Sunday, so the weekend crawled by for the little girl.

But finally Monday dawned. And when the stores opened, the kid was there.

Shortly after noon, she was back at home, proudly displaying her purchases.

She had money left. She planned to hold on to it until the next season’s fashions began to appear. Another list was dawning.

But relatives visiting from out-of-state wanted to go to Dallas in search of a particular piece of Waterford crystal and the kid’s parents decided to go along.

The kid decided to take her money along just in case.

And then she made her first mistake.

She disregarded her mother’s suggestion that she carry a purse with a long strap, a strap that could be placed over her shoulder and around her neck. Instead, she decided to take a purse she had received as a Christmas gift, one with her name embroidered on it, one with no strap.

And, as you’ve already guessed, the new purse — containing slightly more than $100, a lot of money back then — was laid down for a few moments in a public restroom and disappeared.

Another valuable lesson, perhaps, but a very, very hard one.

The kid handled her problem well.

Fighting to hold back tears, she went to the cashier’s office in the store where the purse had been stolen and, hoping against hope, asked if such a purse had been turned in. None had.

Later, she asked her mother what they would do if they saw someone carrying the purse. Her mother told her that her father “would talk to them.” Damn right he would have.

The kid’s parents discussed the situation and decided that, though they both wanted badly to do so, replacing the money would send the wrong message.

And here comes the mother part of the story.

My mother, the kid’s grandmother, just happened to call us that evening and, of course, I told her the story of the kid and her money. I also told her of our decision not to replace the money and why.

After hearing me out, my mother said, “You’re absolutely right. That’s exactly what you should do. And now I’m going to do exactly what I should do.”

My mother was the widow of a Methodist minister. She didn’t have any money. But two days later in the mail came a letter addressed to the kid. Enclosed with the letter was my mother’s check for exactly the amount of money the thief had taken from the kid.

I firmly believe there’s a special place in hell reserved for whoever took the kid’s purse.

And I believe just as firmly that there’s a special place in heaven for mothers and grandmothers.

I hope you can be with yours this weekend. And if you can, appreciate them. They’re very special people.

David Sullens is publisher of the Athens Daily Review.

        

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