Mother’s Day is Sunday, May 11. Your Mountain Times staff respects mothers, despite Watauga Democrat sports editor Steve Behr’s insistence that Mother Superior jumped the gun. Honestly, were it not for our mothers, this newspaper would look like, well, a messy bedroom: Toys scattered throughout the Mountain Classifieds, candy bars hidden in the Eat Beat, crayon marks all over the Readers’ Forum and dirty socks stinking up the Horoscopes. But mothers offer more than just clean rooms – they offer guidance, unconditional love, and more patience than an emergency room in Rio de Janeiro during Carnival. So, to mothers everywhere, the Mountain Times salutes you. And we’re sorry about the curtains. Jason did it.

Frank Ruggiero: Mother – There is no other.

Despite the whole stabbing, murdering thing, Norman Bates really seemed to love his mother. As the lead character in Alfred Hitchcock’s “Psycho,” his wasn’t, shall we say, the healthiest of maternal relationships, but

Prof. T says treat your mother right, or he’ll deliver a lesson in hurtin’.

Bates heeded his dear mother’s words, and look what that got him – three sequels and a remake. Needless to say, Mother’s Day at the Bates house was probably… well, probably a pretty disturbing and ugly thing that even Hitchcock wouldn’t fathom. Mother’s Day isn’t necessarily disturbing to most Americans, but it seems to be met with moans and groans about Hallmark, Russell Stover and, in rare cases, Chia Pets. A most unusual Chia Pet is the one modeled after Mr. T, who reportedly pities fools who regard him as a pet (yet he finds “Chia” quite acceptable). But it’s from none other than Mr. T that the true message of Mother’s Day shines brighter than all the gold chains “A-Team” royalties can buy.

In 1984, an educational video called “Be Somebody, or Be Somebody’s Fool!” hit the shelves harder than a Clubber Lang sucker punch, starring Mr. T in a series of life-affirming, confidence-building vignettes targeted toward children. Through sketches and musical numbers, Mr. T encourages children to stand up for themselves, make informed decisions and respect their mother, the latter of which he expresses through song. Sort of.

“Mother. There is no other… like your mother, so treat her right. Mother, I’ll always love her, my mother, so treat her right, treat her right.”

As Mr. T awkwardly bobs back and forth to a synthesized beat, a tinge of embarrassment crosses that intimidating visage, but it’s quickly suppressed not only by the fact that he can kick some serious @$$, but because only his mother could kick his. It’s that kind of fear a kid feels after accidentally sawing off a tree limb and stashing it in the crawlspace, just as his mother pulls into the driveway. (Sorry ’bout that, Mom.) But such shenanigans are met with that patient love and understanding only a mother can know. So treat her right.

Melanie Davis: Hallmark Holiday


I love my mother. Let me just say that up front.

This is a hanging basket of fake flowers. Perhaps Melanie and her mom would have better luck with these.

As for the holiday, I chalk this one up there with Valentine’s Day, Father’s Day, Grandparents’ Day and Secretary’s Day. These holidays are great for people who never express an emotion other than on the calendar day – designated, I might add, by Hallmark.

Valentine’s Day is unavoidable and Secretary’s Day is simply overlooked. I say V-Day is unavoidable because that pseudo-holiday is probably the most profitable for Hallmark, flower vendors and candy makers. It will never fade away. This year I asked my boyfriend if we could skip it – no celebration at all. He agreed, with his fingers crossed behind his back apparently, because we still celebrated it. It makes more sense to me for each individual couple to celebrate their own anniversary, rather than buy mass-marketed, heart-shaped everything. Nothing special about that.

Back to Mother’s Day – again, mother and child should be celebrated, but by each pair. I am very close to my parents. I speak to my mother at least three times a week on the phone and visit out-of-state more often than most college freshmen. We say “I love you” at the end of each conversation and pick up small things for each other. For example, my mother and I have particular fondness for hanging flower baskets. We buy those frequently in the spring and summer because, even between the two of us, we aren’t capable of keeping them alive for long. That is something we share. I just don’t think I should have to pick up flowers on this particular day to tell my mom something I tell her frequently.

Having said that, I will still participate in Mother’s Day. Without a doubt there is a trip to a garden shop in my future. I continue with the fake holiday because I don’t want my mom to feel left out. I don’t want her to be the only mother in a group of co-workers or friends with “ungrateful children.”

If/when I have children of my own, I fully intend to ban this holiday from our house.

.

Scott Nicholson: Mother, Should I Build the Wall?

Help, help, I have no mouth and I must scream...oh, wait, I do have a mouth. Never mind.

I guess my fondest mommy memory is, during high school, my mother observed that every time she came in my room, Pink Floyd’s “Mother” from “The Wall” was playing. Pink Floyd was my introduction to cool music, as I was weaned on old country like Hank Williams Sr., Tammy Wynette (who with songs like “D-I-V-O-R-C-E” and “I don’t want to play house ‘cause that makes mommies cry” had her own issues), Loretta Lynn and Johnny Cash. We had no disposable income, so I couldn’t consume all the music of my peers. In fact, I found a Rod Stewart record in a Dumpster, back before he was blond and rich, and so I became a Rod Stewart fan by default. Then came “Da Ya Think I’m Sexy?” and my horrified friends tried to save me by giving me “intelligent rock” records like Rush and Yes, which were way too intelligent for me.

Fortunately, back then you could get a 45 rpm single for less than a buck, so I sold out and bought “Another Brick In The Wall (whichever # was the hit).” But it was the flip side, “One Of My Turns,” where the rock star goes crazy and smashes all his stuff that made me go, “Hmm, I can afford ‘The Wall.’” Which contained the song “Mother” and the promise of being protected from all the vile, dirty women out there by stacking bricks in the wall until I was imprisoned and had to...wait, that was a drug-induced, fictional extended metaphor and this is reality. At any rate, I heard a twangy bluegrass version of the same song a few days ago and it was definitely a flip side to the flip side. Nothing like the suppressed yodel of “Mother’s gonna put all her fears into you” to make you appreciate good old Mom. She ain’t that scary after all. Knock out a brick and pass that casserole. I got the munchies.




Jeff Eason: The Mothers of Invention

Over the years, there have been many artists who have used maternal monikers: nursery rhymist Mother Goose, folk painter Grandma Moses, hippie folk band the Mamas and the Papas, and electric funksters Mother’s Finest. My favorite of those artists using maternal nom de plumes would have to be The Mothers of

Frank Zappa was the proud mother of a bright and bouncing Beatle-parody album cover and the proud father of Moon Unit.

Invention, Frank Zappa’s band from the mid-sixties through the early seventies. Combining doo-wop vocals, jazzy rhythms, gutbucket blues and a wacky sense of humor, The Mothers of Invention were like no other band before or after. The band’s lineup changed quite a bit during this time and other than Zappa himself, I don’t believe any of the musicians are on all of the Mothers albums.

Famous musicians, such as French violinist Jean-Luc Ponty, Flo and Eddie of the Turtles and Lowell George of Little Feat, all made their home in The Mothers of Invention at one time or another. The albums varied wildly from the golden oldies parody Cruising with Ruben and the Jets to the sixties mockumentary We’re Only in It for the Money to the jazzy instrumental rock of Hot Rats and The Grand Wazoo. If there’s one place I would suggest for newcomers to the band, it would have to be the live album Just Another Band from L.A. from 1972. On one side is the epic musical story “Billy the Mountain,” a 24-minute mini-opera that would presage Zappa’s first movie, 200 Motels. The other side features the Mothers rambling through some of their greatest songs, including “Call Any Vegetable” and “Magdalena.”

The album marks a transitional point for Zappa as he was about to abandon psychedelic rock and begin to incorporate more standard jazz idioms in his music. In doing so, he reconfigured the band to suit his needs. Although this is not the last album to bear the “Mothers” name, for many fans it is the last one that really fits the bill.