Mother’s day, we celebrate it by buying cards and flowers, going to brunch, and spending quality time. At least, those of us who have been lucky enough to have a mother in our lives, live within distance, and whose mothers are not deceased or time travelers.
Today I celebrated mother’s day with my sister, brother-in-law, and of course mother. We prepared a breakfast on the Dobson’s new griddle, in their beautiful ranch home.
As the afternoon pressed on we took the get-together outside. My mom brought old photos, documents, and magazines to help my sister with her genealogy research. Spread on the table are my grandfather in front of 1950s Studebaker, his Marine duty record, and a Newsweek and Time Magazine from late July 1969. Most of the ads in the magazine are for
Not that advertising is the sole barometer for
There is more to see here than the usual requiem for
1969, when the Excalibur restaurant was full of Frank Sinatra’s photographs and the decadence of the 1950s still ebbed in the streets, a time that stands in the quiet period between the 67 riots, civil rights and the crack epidemic. A time that is complicated. The shortness of this post does not allow all of the complexities and contradictions to flow, but stands to represent the Golden Era of Detroit and our mothers.
When we celebrate mother’s day some may have a difficulty in selecting a card. We may be upset with our mothers, or find the cards too cheesy. The desire burns for an accurate representation of our relationship.
Stand contrary to those feelings.
We can write off our parents with the same ease that many write off
Nostalgia can by a siren song, and can soften the past. Nostalgia creates want of a different time, and simplification of that time. We can sit and desire the