I'm Talking 'Bout the Mom in the Mirror

 
HANK: So I'm in Saks trying on fall clothes. The lighting is weird, of course, and the mirrors are weird, of course, and I say this just as an explanation. Or an excuse.

I'm verging on cranky because I might have low blood sugar and I'm out of almonds. Again, just so you know.

There's a very nice (guess what color) black wool suit, with a little jacket and kind of a fullish skirt. I try it, it's sort of--fifties, but it works, and as I'm considering, I catch a glimpse of something strange and surprising in the three-way mirror.

Mom!I almost say it out loud. And then I think, you know, really fast, the way your mind can light on a million things in an instant: Wait, she's in Indianapolis, not Boston, right? Isn't she? Might she have come to surprise me? No, she wouldn't know I was in Saks. And when did she go blonde? Doesn't she still have dark hair? Well, lovely, anyway, so happy to see her.

All in just a flash.

But, of course, I was alone. I had seen myself in the mirror. Just out of the corner of my eye. And I really, truly, thought it was Mom.

So, there you have it. Irrevocably, irretrievably, absolutely and beyond dismissal, I am turning into my mother.

Here we are with me at--five maybe? Which made Mom 25. Resemblance? You can't really tell here. Although there is an eyebrow and hair thing. (Digression: what this photo of a photo didn't capture..there's a pack of unfiltered Camels on the table by the birthday cake.)

But when I was a teenager, people used to say: Oh, no question she's your mother. You two look just alike! And I'd think: are you nuts?

I'd say: l have a Sasoon-ish haircut, and a miniskirt, and I'm tallish.  She's smaller, much, and has a bouffant that's straight from Adore Beauty Salon (they pronounced it addoray), the home of mucho Aquanet. I'm wearing Twiggy eyeliner and white lipstick.She's got red lipstick.

Which, I would have sworn, I would NEVER wear.

People would insist. Ah, they said. You two look just alike. 

Turns out, it's not just my appearance that's morphing into Mom.  It's also my behavior. At the grocery store the other say, I said to the bagging person--wow, you are a great bagger! Thank you for taking so much care with that. The bagger said he was working his way through school, and I proceeded to chat with him (BRIEFLY) about the valuable quality of doing whatever you do the best way possible, and that certainly it was clear he recognized that.

In the car, my husband said: did you know that kid?

I said no. He said: then what were you talking to him about?   Values, I said. Jonathan was baffled. And then I realized, my mother always talked to people. In grocery stores, at the dry cleaners, in bathrooms of restaurants, at the airport, she'd just--say stuff. Strike up conversations. Love your dress, cute baby, can you believe how long this is taking, things like that.

And teenaged me was mortified. MOM, I'd hiss. You don't know those people. They don't care what you think.

Now, I do it too. So, I guess, fine. Mom was right. I guess. And she was right about some other things, too, as it turns out. So let me impart to you some of the wisdom according to Mom. (I think she was about 20 in this photo. Could that be?)

Anyway, she told me:  

1. Never get serious with anyone until you see them drunk, sick and with their mother. (How they are with their mother, she'd say, wagging a finger, is just how they'll be with you.) 

2. Never get serious with anyone (this was a theme) until you ask yourself: How does he treat his friends? Would I want my children to be just like him?

3. Never order anything called "Chef's Surprise." You will not like the surprise. 

4. If it fits perfectly, might as well get two.  

5. Thoughtful consideration of others is the sign of a true lady. (This is a direct quote.)

Mom is 83, and gorgeous, went to the Chicago Institute of Design, collects Russian contemporary art, has infallible fashion sense, can throw a spectacular dinner party. (Invite interesting people, don't sit friends together, make sure the wine is great.)

Of course, every relationship has its, um, quirky moments. Mom isn't speaking to one of my sisters. Why? "Ask her."  Last year, when I told Mom that I had been nominated for an Emmy, she said: "Oh, honey, do you still care about that?" And she and my other sister just exchanged houses. Why? "Why not?" 

She has an Apple Mac, but she refuses to use it, ("Why should I?")  so she won't be reading this. I will, however, tell her the story of the Mom in the mirror. And I'll be sure to tell her that in some ways, at least, I'm happy to be turning into her.  Including the red lipstick. 

Do you look like your Mother? Do you behave like her? Does that surprise you, one way or the other? Did you learn anything valuable from her? (One way or the other?) Care to share it?

Comments

[Laraine]

Oh, Hank, you would bring this up! When I was a skinny teenager, guys would drive past the house and whistle . . . at Mom, in jeans, working in the yard. To quote my teenaged, ignored-by-whistling-boys, self: "I about corroded."
We looked so much alike that no one ever had to ask if this was my mom.
I knew at every stage of my life how I would look in 10 or 15 or 25 years, and if I had any doubt, I just had to consult photos of her.
But, later on . . . not so much fun to look so alike. When she was 78, and in a surgical rehab unit following a devastating fall, I was guiding her (in her wheelchair) to the dining area, and the women at reception said, "Dorothy, how lovely that your sister is visiting!" Ulp. Seriously?

She also used to do the 'talk to everyone' thing, which humiliated me no end--who would want a total stranger to start conversations about anything and everything, unbidden?
Well, now . . . guilty as charged. I now behave as if it is rude to share less than two full sentences with anyone I encounter in the course of a day.

I miss her terribly, and admire her courage and simple wisdom more with each day. Wish I had a daughter to whom I could pass the gift of looking like Mom.

[Marie]

Hank, you are getting more beautiful every day..your personality shines through.
I never knew my birth mother so I have no frame of reference. But people used to say that I had my adopted father's nose..unbeknownst to me that I was adopted.
My daughters resemble me but at certain times they want to look like themselves. I think that is healthy because looks incorporate personality traits and people are caught up more in what you are as a total person and looks are just an aside.
Laraine, I just turned a certain age up in the early seventies and my twelve year old grandson speculated that I look sixty. I do not know what sixty is supposed to look like but I will take it.

[Marie-Reine]

Really lovely, Hank. I mostly missed these experiences with my mom, but I love to read about them. There is a sweet sadness for me but also a joy that comes when I treasure the few I have lingering in my memory from childhood.

[Paulina]

My Mom is a tall, blue eyed blond (though she dyes her hair in brown, she says when she is blond, she looks pale :)), I’m chestnut haired and eyed (or green eyed, depends on the light, look exactly like my father), a bit smaller than her (that’s rare for the children, though I’m quite tall as well). So we have nothing in common in our appearance. Well, sometimes people say: “There is an expression…”

People always took her for my sister (it started in the pre-school). I remember two guys were hitting on us asking: « Girls are you sisters or friends ? »
When I was in my teens I liked to snitch her clothes. We still exchange some sometimes.

We have different ways of behaving. I’m more direct, she is more tactful. But we both lack patience. I conclusion, I'd say that we are more opposite (except the political views) than alike but we never felt as strangers to each other.

[Nora]

Hank...I look nothing like my mother...but every now and then I catch one of her looks in MY face, a subtle mannerism that mirrors her's....and I swear, some days, when I open my mouth....HER voice pops out! My daughters are scared...but it's already happening (insert scary music)

[William, who is now HOME!!!!!]

Hank said: There's a very nice (guess what color) black wool suit

Using my Highly Trained Investigators Instincts, Hank, I'm going to go with "black"...sound fair?

Hank said: I try it, it's sort of--fifties, but it works

If I was more awake, I could make 1008 flirtatious remarks on THAT one, but I'll let it go due to lack of coffee.

True story: the manager at my bank is an incredibly lovely young woman, maybe 28-29, former model, kind, intelligent, efficient, always takes care of things. I walked in one day from court, suit and tie, and waited in line. They were short handed, so the Manager was working a window, and I was next in line. We chatted for a few moments, then she looked at me and said, "You know, Mr. Simon, there's something I've been meaning to tell you. You remind me of Sean Connery." I was speechless and could only smile as my chest expanded to approximately 98 inches, when she went on: "My GRANDMOTHER thinks he is SOOOOOOOOOOOO sexy!"

I felt the smile on my face lock into place, and managed to reply, "Thank you, Annabelle." She smiled oh so sweetly, handed me my receipt, and I left before I burst into tears.....

[Tasha Alexander]

Hank, I think this is one of my favorite posts ever. And I'm certain I would love your mother.....

[Nancy Pickard]

"Oh, honey, do you still care about that?"
Ack. I laugh in sympathy, but ouch.

I do love your mom's answer to the house question: "Why not?"

[Sarah]

Hank - Hey, I'm turning into YOUR mother!
Seriously, though, there are so many commonalities here. My mother used to talk to "bag boys" and I would be mortified. Now, I talk to bag boys and, in doing so, "make their day," (as LIz Lemon would say).
And this 3 something rule about men. Classic! My mother's advice - don't get serious with a man who doesn't dance, drink or stand up when you come to the table. (Not quite sure what the drink thing was about.)
Also, never order a mixed drink at a bar/restaurant or public place. (Methinks something went awry at the officer's club in Newport.)
very funny!

[Kathy Reschini Sweeney]

I have my Mom's round face, but mine has a larger circumference. People can tell we are family - same with my brother, The Crown Prince.

But no one would, ever - and I mean not in this universe - confuse us. She is a very patient, devout lady. She is always polite and we don't think she has ever heard the F word in real life. We know she has never said it!

I love my Mom, who is a Kennedy. My personality is all Pugliese/Reschini - not always a good thing!

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

Laraine, "I about corroded"? That's hilarious. I'm in the midst of reading To Kill A Mockingbird now ,and Scout says similarly adorable things...and I had the same thought, I admit, about not having a daughter.

Yes--Marie, you've clearly done a lovely job if they want to look like themselves! (That's part of you, too...) And thank you.

M-R, many hugs.

Paulina--oh, the clothes thing. I always used to take Mom's clothes..cardigan sweaters, I think. With grosgrain ribbon down the plackets.

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

Nora-you are so right! Sometimes it's just an expression, an eyebrow, the pronounciation of a word. Once I told my grandson--"when you wash the dishes, you also have to wipe all horizontal surfaces in the kitchen." Oh. My. Gosh. Guess where I heard THAT for twenty yesrs!

Off to work...more to come..happy Monday! (It's pouring here in Boston..)

[Paulina]

It wasn’t my Mom’s rule about men but a conclusion a friend of mine came to : before marrying a man look how he divorces. If he treats well his ex, you can go.

[Ramona]

I look exactly like my mother. By exactly, I mean our high school graduation photos are virtually identical.

My Mom is a little younger than yours, Hank, but my parents are afraid of computers and don't have one in the house--anywhere, not one. And they live in the only town in America without a Starbucks, so when I visit them soon, I will not have any Internet access. At all.

Pray for me.

[judy merrill larsen]

Hank, this is a classic! I don't so much look like my mom, but man, do I have her mannerisms. Well, and calves. And I do this little whistle thing when I'm cooking and cleaning and stuff--just like she does and that used to drive me nuts when she did it. The most problematic similarity (back in high school) was that our voices sounded exactly alike. Which was a problem in the days before cell phones and caller ID when my friends would call me and immediately launch into a conversation with my mom thinking she was me.

But, I also loved when I'd recognize my mom in the way I mothered my sons.

[Rachel Brady]

Loved this post, Hank.

[Harley]

Not only have I turned into my mother, my daughter has turned into me. "Why are you TALKING to those people? Do you even know them? Can you NOT SING in the grocery store? I don't care if you know the song they're playing."

Oh, heck. Now I miss my mom.

Paulina, that is very good advice.

Great post, Hank. ANd you and your mother are both beautiful, both now, and back then.

[Amy]

William, if I were the type to LOL, I'd've LOLed at your Sean Connery story.

My mom died earlier this year. I've spent the months since her death reluctantly doing my damnedest to turn into her, and unfortunately I'm succeeding. Can we say weight gain? My daughter told me I had a "Grandma butt" a couple of days ago. Awesome. But I'm like her in some good ways, too, and I do say so myself. Playful, committed, patient at the right times.

Physically, I see a lot of me in my Grandma butt daughter. So, give her a few decades, and we'll examine her posterior.

[xena]

Sizewise I look nothing like my petite blond Debbie Reynolds shaped mom. I am now resembling my grandmother, Winnifred, however and that is a splendid thing.
She also talked to strangers anywhere anytime and so do I. I'd love to be just like my grandmother.
My mom has become a stronger person growing up with me but she still thinks way too much about what other people think about her. We share some facial attractions but I'm not becoming her.
I've always noticed when you are around people you do tend to pick up their mannerisms and sayings.
I bet you do look like Sean William.

[Edie]

This was the topic of my first serious argument with my husband. Yes, I am like my mom, and getting more like her all the time. I loved her dearly, but never thought it would come this far!

[Cornelia Read]

I look like my Dad, but boy do I wish I had Mom's figure. She's a knockout.

I love this post, Hank. And I'm a big chatter-up of grocery baggers and such. Why not make the world a little more connected? Tell people they're doing a great job? It always makes ME feel better to have a fun quick chat with a total stranger, too.

[peach]

Back in the late 80's with a toddler daughter, I decided to get my hair permed and cut short for easy and quick hair care. Then the family curse set in with a vengeance. I'd had one or two gray hairs since high school, but now they were coming fast and furious.

Over the summer, as I mowed the front lawn, people driving by would honk and wave at me. I'd look up, wave, and then think to myself, "I don't know who those people are." Later on that summer, while out and about with my mother, we met up with an acquaintance of hers. Somehow it came up in conversation that I happened to live next door to my mother and then the comment from the acquaintance, "Oh! That must have been you I've been waving at this summer while driving by. I thought you were your mother. You look like sisters."

Within a few weeks I had gotten my hair colored and then grew out the perm. Not because I don't want to look like my mother! I fully acknowledge the strong genetics which come from my maternal grandmother, to make us all resemble each other closely. BUT, I didn't and still don't want to look older than I am. My mother, who also went prematurely gray, was then in her late 40's and looked older than my grandmother who was in her mid sixties.

I may resemble my mother physically, but temperamentally I am my father's daughter. That's a whole nother story as we say here in Western PA.

[Kaye Barley]

oh, Hank. I love this.

Mother and I used to look a lot more alike that we do now that she appears to keep getting shorter every day. When I ask her about this she just rolls her eyes and swats at me.

Do I like her? Lordy, yes - she's my best gal pal. Always has been. We can laugh hysterically over the damndest things. Even when we were going through that "stuff" that mothers and daughters go through. And she has always been a very good friend to my friends; while I was growing up and now. When friends I grew up with come for a visit, the first place they want to go is to visit with "Hazel."

And probably, most importantly to me - she and my Donald are the best of buddies and openly adore and tease one another. She tells me often that I married my dad's duplicate. Then we both cry a little 'cause my dad died before he could meet Donald.

[storyteller Mary]

I remember the day I looked at my face in the makeup mirror, then glanced at a photo of my mom sitting next to it, then beck and forth a bit, and yes, same lines . . . but that's okay, because there are more laugh lines than frown creases. I chat with strangers, compliment everyone I can, admire everyone's children, and pick up items that have fallen to the floor in a store (Mom worked retail for a while and would not want merchandise to be ruined by lying on the floor).

I am trying to improve my listening skills. Mom would listen so much information out of us after school, was such a good listener that one of my cousins once skipped school to go talk to my mom. I love to talk, but learn more when I listen.

[storyteller Mary]

BTW, about those lovely random conversations that help to weave the social fabric, I fear they are being curtailed by cell phones and iPods, and it's too bad.

[storyteller Mary]

William, welcome home. I'm thinking if we adopt Doc's plan (yesterday's blog) of peaking at 500 (great plan!), you'll have many opportunities to get better Sean Connery compliments.

[Karen in Ohio]

What fun stories from everyone. And I agree completely that you and your mother are both beautiful, Hank. You also said you were homely in high school; it must have doubly hurt being the swanling(actually called a cygnet) with your mother the beautiful swan there. You can say you grew into your looks.

That would be me, too, although I look like my dad, and hardly resemble my mother at all, except that I inherited that great Hungarian skin she and all her sisters have. But all three of my daughters look a lot like me, especially the oldest, who has heard that her whole life. In NYC with my middle daughter a couple years ago, men in the bar where we were trying to have a conversation assumed we were sisters. To my delight, and my then-23-year old daughter's distress. Well, it was pretty dark in there.

However, I also talk to strangers, and as my husband says, I'm like my mom in laughing at everyone's jokes. Especially men, who fall for it every time (although it's not calculated; we both just really enjoy humor). In my mom's case it has resulted in three marriages; in my case it has brought me some wonderful friendships with male people who I cherish. Mother's whole family loves to laugh, as do I. It's something I hope my children will also pass on to their families. The world needs to lighten up.

[Maryann Mercer]

I am my father's daughter. My sister resembles mom. However, I have mom's temperment. My sister? We're not sure, but we think it's my aunt's....if you say that to sis, she'd be offended. Oh well. I too talk to, or thank, baggers when they do a good job. I'm beginning to think bagging is a lost art, especially in the area of plastic bags. I bring my re-usable bags when I remember. That can make all the difference, although I'm not sure why. I also chat to retailers, something I never really did either. And I straighten. We were at B&N out here in Portland the other day and I completely tidied up the new release display. Catherine pretended not to notice.
Thanks Hank...it was nice to think of my mom and her ways. My friends loved her....and Catherine tells me her friends think I'm great. Maybe I'm doing something right :o)

[Holly Gault]

I look just like my mom. Down to the turkey wattle I've developed. I'm just a large-sized version -- she was 5'3" at her tallest and tiny at 91. I was 5'8" but have begun to reach for the earth. Since all the women in my family are long-lived, I have approximately 30 years to get down.

I talk to everybody, particularly waiting in lines. So far, unlike my mother, I haven't told every store why they should take off the Musak or Top 40 and put on classical music, but I'm sure it will come. I chose my laundromat because it didn't play any music.

[Fran]

I look nothing at all like my mother, and in fact as a child, she was refused service in a Mississippi restaurant even if she was that white child's n(*%%$ nanny. Heh, bad mistake on their part.

But I know I've learned a lot from her, and the older I get, the more sensible her values have become.

And Hank, my mom too talked with everyone. And I was horrified as a teen, and I do it now too.

I wish I'd asked her more questions about her past, though.

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

Oh, what terrific stories, everyone! And I suppose there is that genetics thing--we shouldn't be too surprised.

William--welcome home!

Kaye, what a lovely circumstance, to have your husband (xoxo) and our mother be close.

And yes, Fran. Funny how our parents change as we get older! :-)

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

Picking things up off the floor in stores! I do it too...I also fix things on hangers that aren't straight..

And at a bookstore signing the other day, a twenty-something asked me to sign FACE TIME, which of course is a murder mystery, but all about mother-daughter relationships. I said--should I sign it to you? She paused, then said: Oh, maybe sign it to my mother. She's more of a fan than I am.

[marie]

William, welcome Home!!!!

Words of wisdom that my mother imparted to me:

"I didn't educate you to be a hairdresser" Ouch, Vidal Sassoon"
"Never sing harmony, always sing lead"
"You sometimes have a big mouth"..MOI? I ask you. Moi? Never.
"Yes, I love you. I loved you ten minutes ago..why would I change my answer?"
"Somehow, I think that you are destined to hire maids to clean because I do not see you doing cleaning anytime soon."
These and many nuggets stick in my mind but the security of her being there has enveloped me forever.

[Diane Chamberlain]

Wow, what a beauty your mom is in that picture!

Against the wall in my bedroom is a huge armoire with a full length mirror. When I wake up in the morning and sit on the edge of the bed, my reflection is unavoidable and there she is: mom in her nightie. That hour of the day, it's mom at around age 85 I see, which much as I loved my mother, is not the most encouraging way to start the day. But I've learned to simply say "hi mom, miss you" and trudge off to the bathroom and my little bag of make-up.

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

Oh, Diane. Really, that's wonderful. And so lovely of you to make it such a connection.

Marie: never sing harmony, always sing lead. Hmmm. I bet we could do a whole blog about that one..!

[Vincent H. O'Neil]

Marvelous blog, Hank -- and tremendous pictures! Of my five siblings, I'm the one who most resembles my dad. He practiced medicine in my hometown for decades, and one time when I was home on leave from the army an old man stopped me on the street to ask my name. When he confirmed that I was Jim O'Neil's son, he was quite relieved because he thought he was seeing my father -- back in the 1950s!

My dad's 85 and going strong, mom's 83 and the same. I just spoke at my hometown library last week, and they were there -- talk about pressure!

[marie]

When I was a teenager I took an obligatory First Aid Course in School.
I was sent home with a pamphlet listing all the rudimentary procedures.
One day, my mom began bleeding profusely.
I was often made to gather up my wits and offer any help that I could.
I took out my trusty manual and leafed through it until I found bleeding. The manual instructed that one should retrieve ice cubes and apply readily to the bleeding. My mother took one look at my approach with the ice and said "Come near me with that ice and I'll (fill in the blank) you."
I know that she spoke from terror but it sticks in my mind until today. I haven't check the latest First Aid Manuals but things change, yes they do.

[Ramona]

Okay, the "She's more of a fan than I am" made me spew my root beer. Did you laugh?

About the talking to anyone, I can make conversation with a potted plant. (Sometimes do, when I'm writing, come to think of it.) My mom, however--people talk to her. Two minutes in the line at the grocery store, and whoever is next to her is jabbering away with the life story. They don't hold back details or personal stuff, either. All she does is nod or say, "That's too bad." It's amazing. I'm waiting for the day someone confesses a murder to her. She'll probably just nod and say, "That's too bad."

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

Vinny, what a very sweet story!

Marie- that's so scary! (And must have been terrifying for little you...) What happened? Is ice--wrong?

Ramona, oh, yeah, I burst out laughing. Then I was worried *I* had embarrassed *her*! You can't win. BUT she bought a book. So all good.

[Pam aka SisterZip]

I have a very similar picture of my mother. She was yearbook queen in high school.

I will be forever grateful if I have just one of my mother's best qualities:

Her big heart.
Her willingness to welcome anyone into her family.
Her graciousness when those same people she welcomed smack her in the face with their ingratitude. And not letting them know she was hurt by it.
Her mothering skills.
Her determination that my father would have the best health care when he had his first heart attack at age 48 (he is almost 85).
Her insistance that her children would learn as much from failure than from success. She didn't try to protect us from every hurt. She let us learn on our own terms. (Only one of the 4 of us didn't like that approach and became a 'helicopter parent', lol)

Now it is our time to take care of her.

Thanks, Hank.

[marie]

Hank, ice helps stop the bleeding but I think my mom just freaked out!
She had health problems and I often spent months visiting her in the hospital after school, lugging heavy books but determined to let her know I cared..after all she cared so much for me.

[Laura (in PA)]

Wonderful blog, Hank. I have been told I look like my mother, but I don't see it. However, I was sitting with my sister yesterday, and suddenly she said, "I am amazed at how much you look like Aunt Kath (my mother's youngest sister)". I was shocked - nobody had ever said that before.

I'm one of nine kids, and we think we all look different, but people from the area we grew up in can tell we're part of the family just by looking at us.

[Karen in Ohio]

Hank, I hope you weren't offended by the swan comparison. It wasn't meant in any but the kindest possible way.

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

Are you kidding me, Karen? It's lovely..and I'm very flattered. In fact,The Ugly Duckling was my mantra-story as a kid.

And you know, my mother NEVER thought she was beautiful. (That I knew of...) That's interesting, too. She kind of knew how to--work it, I guess we'd say today. Very fashionable and avantgarde. But I always thought she was fabulous. Still do.

[gaylin in vancouver]

I could imitate my mom's way of answering the phone when I was a teen and had many a conversation with her friends! We are alike in some mannerisms and a lot alike in temperament. We both are quite happy on our own, reading books, doing hobbies, generally being quiet. We can both do the social thing quite well but are relieved to get home. We have some similarity in looks but her 60+ years of smoking and not wearing sunscreen has changed her 'landscape'. I do have her eyebrows, which I appreciate - they are great. I also have a thyroid disease - just like her, which I don't appreciate. I also appreciate that she kept the big boogage to herself. I really didn't want to grow up and get her hooter size.

She was always very smart and sarcastic and while I can do the sarcasm thing, I have learned to tone it down, it is too easy to be mean.

She has shrunk over the years, is now under 5' while I soar right up to 5'5" . . .

Maybe when I am older I can start buying mu-mu dresses and get snoopy about all my neighbours and give cookies to the garbage man! She thinks I talk to easily to strangers and store clerks etc. I just remind her that I am the friendly one.

[Karen in Ohio]

She really is.

My mother was lovely when she was young, but when I was in 8th grade she was in a bad accident that crushed the lower half of her face. It was repaired, but plastic surgery was only rudimentary at that point, and they just did a marginal job. She's still, at age 80, what most people call "cute", and has an infectious giggle and sense of fun, often being mistaken for much younger than she is. (That good Hungarian skin again.) And I have more grey hairs than she has, although her hair never recovered from the plaster cast they had on her head for two months.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, isn't it? And so often, the beauty one beholds in the mirror is dismissed.

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

Gaylin--I know! Getting to be more like one's mom can give you a lot of leeway...but hold off on the mu-mu's, I'd say. Still, the "all snoopy on the neighbors" can be pretty interesting. SO funny!

[Peg Cochran]

The first time I went to the hair salon that my mother frequented, my hairdresser paraded me around to all the personnel who were asked "guess whose daughter this is?" Every single one of them guessed right! Yes, Mom and I are two peas in a pod as far as looks are concerned.

[Becky Hutchison]

Great topic, Hank! I have my mother's face shape (square), her lips (thin to almost non-existant), and her body shape (gosh darn it) but I have my father's red hair, fair skin and sense of humor. I wish I had my mom's math genes, but I did get her and my dad's curiousness with the world and love of learning.

Mother made sure my two sisters and I could talk to anyone about most anything at any time, saying that it was an important talent when hostessing. So I can and do, talk, that is. A lot. LOL

My mother had her faults, but one thing she and my dad didn't do was look down on anyone or ostracize someone for appearing or thinking differently than we did. The other day my daughter thanked me, even gave me a big hug, for her dad and me showing that what mattered most about people was their character, how they treated themselves and others. She said our acceptance of others helped her be open and help some friends when they were struggling with difficult issues. I was surprised she thanked me but was very proud that she was open-minded when her friends needed her.

She lucked out on her lips and shape of her body. Since she's really my step-daughter, she missed getting the thin lip, plumpish body of my mom's and instead got the full lips, youngish look her mom had. If luck holds with her, when she's her grandmother's age, she'll still look young. Her grandmother certainly does.

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

Becky, that "talking to anyone" is such an important skill..and a thank you from your daughter--the best!

Laura, sometimes families just use the same gestures, or the same expressions, you know?

And Nancy P, I forgot to say--yeah. She's pretty elaborately diabolical with the multi-level criticism.

[marie]

An inspiring story about a life change after seventy appeared in my newspaper today:

http://www.ocregister.com/articles/jane-268118-boxes-jghaas.html

[nancy martin]

Finally home from babysitting my grandson, where I noticed that both of my daughters are turning into me! I'm feeling rather smug about it.

But I realized that I haven't been engaging the bag boys in conversation because I've pretty much moved over to the self-serve checkout. Hm. Maybe this is one of those "take the slow lane" life lessons?

And yes, Ramona can chat up a potted plant.

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

Oh, and I call her Mom. Used to be : MU-therrr, if I was annoyed.

The adorable girls next door call their mother Mumma, which is so cute.

What do you say?

[Alice Foreman]

"Thoughtful consideration of others is the sign of a true lady." Mrs. Landman (Hank's Mom).
Your Mother has always been larger than life to me. Kind, gentle, thoughtful...beautiful,inside and out. Your Mother is a lady...in the best, and truest sense of the word. Your Mother, and Mrs. Katzenburger have given me some of my dearest childhood memories. I am grateful to have known her. Please...give her my love, and regards.

[Edie]

When I was little, I wanted to be like my mom in three ways: I wanted to crack my gum like Mom, I wanted to peel an apple in one long strip (like Mom) and I wanted to wear glasses.

Yep.

[gaylin in vancouver]

Oh and I have my mom's freckles but they don't show much since I don't tan anymore.

I vote we all get mu-mu's, come on, we could even go commando under them and no one would know!

When visiting my mom, one must be prepared, as soon as it is dark, she changes into her nightgown and housecoat, so she can be ready for bed with no advanced notice . . .

I have a great photo of her taken before marriage and babies, a real pin-up type shot with the pointy-boob bra and a cigarette in her mouth. She looks like she is ready to go shark someone at 8-ball.

[Pj Schott]

Basically, I turned into my father. Workaholic, insomniac, pain-in-the-ass. But when I spontaneously dance in public, I recall how mortified I was when my mother did this. And wish I had kids of my own to embarrass.

[Becky Hutchison]

The name "Mumma" is really cute, Hank.

My sisters and I called our mom "Mother" and our dad "Daddy" (I guess it's a Southern thing), but I also called her "Momma" occasionally. When the first grandchild was born, a friend of my sister's suggested we name my mom GrandDot, since her nickname was...ta da..."Dot".

By the way, that closeup of your mom is beautiful, and if she had your hair or vice versa, you could be twins.

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

Hey, Tasha! Just saw your entry, for some reason..thank you! Don't you have a new book soon? We want details...

Alice! Oh, my dear, so lovely to see you here. We were in girl Scouts together, everyone! Troop 555. Oh...you bring tears to my eyes. I will call her instantly. Well, okay, tomorrow.

Edie, those are definitely things to aspire to. When were were kids,I couldn't believe my mother would put her hand into the garbage disposal to get gunk out. Really, I was floored by that. And terrified. NOw, I do it all the time.

Gaylin, post that some time!

Love love love you all..see you tomorrow!

[Elizabeth, Cambridge, MA]

Everyone always said that I looked just like my mom and then they'd meet my dad and retract the first. Both of my parents had dark hair and were tall but face shape and such, I look just like my dad but have the mannerisms of my mom. We look enough alike that I can see myself in old pictures of my mom but I doubt I would ever see her in my mirror... She's still one of my best friends and since my dad passed away in March, I can just look like my mom now (or my sister, I'm still young enough that it's not horrible!)