I’ve gotten awfully inconsistent with the weekly call to my parents.  I have all kinds of excuses, but most wouldn’t hold stock.  In any event, I intentionally set aside space and time for a call.  After some iciness indicating she had, indeed, recognized my communication inconsistency, my mother began her considerable updates on town news.   

I worked hard to pay attention to the new diagnoses, divorces, and remodeling projects of people I only vaguely know, but then she said, “Well, and then there’s poor Malcolm Easley.  Bless his heart.  Anywho, Sally’s still dating that boatman and poor Phyllis Fandly’s new husband – remember the old one? – up and died.” 

“Mama, who’s Malcolm Easley and why do I need to bless his heart?” 

“Oh for Heaven’s sake!  You know him!  He went to school with your brother and sister.  Married a real nice girl and is in the liquor business.  Goes to our church.  Anyway, they found him wondering around in pink panties and a bra down at the old insane asylum.  Did I tell you they’ve made the insane asylum into a park?  Daddy walks there with his men friends every Monday and Wednesday.” 

“Well, so what happened?” 

“With what?” 

“With Malcolm Easley.” 

“Oh, they arrested him and put his picture in the Sentinel.  I don’t know why they did that.  It wasn’t necessary.  Let him wear a brassiere if he wants.  Most men probably should.  His wife found a whole dresser drawer full of unmentionables.” 

“So now what’s going to happen?” 

“How would I know?  I just hope he doesn’t wear that pink set again.  He doesn’t have the coloring for pastels.” 

And now for two important lessons learned:  First, I need to call home more regularly.  Second, my mother doesn’t care much what you do, but she would like for you to look good doing it.  This might sound trite or shallow, but I don’t think it is.  For her, it’s about fully stepping into who you are and recognizing how best to show it.  My guess is she wouldn’t be thrilled if my brother was found in a hoop skirt and bustier, but she’d be super irked if he didn’t have accessories to match.  Maybe it’s not so bad to become – at least parts of – our mothers.