President Wilson established Mother’s Day in 1914
A COLUMN By Kathryn Ross
I think Mother’s Day, coming up this Sunday, is one of the hardest holidays to endure.
Most of us have felt the warmth of a mother’s hug, felt the gentle touch of her hand on our forehead or her light kiss on our cheek, and some, have felt that gentle whack on our behinds when we did something wrong. For many of us, especially those in my age bracket, we haven’t had those gentle gestures for a lot of years now. But they are obviously something you don’t ever forget, no matter how old you get to be.
That is why Mother’s Day is a hard holiday for many of us. We naturally remember those last hours and push those memories out of our minds in favor of merrier days, picnics, playing in the yard, learning to make a pie or a cake, and in my case learning to make pizza dough and spaghetti. And of course, like most mothers everywhere, my mother was a great cook. Nobody in the family inherited Mom’s talent for cooking, and few other of her better traits. I’m not sure whether it was her generation or the fact that she grew up rural, but nobody ever walked through my mother’s door and left hungry. After the greetings the next words out of her mouth were, “What can I get you to eat?”
Growing up, I never thought my mother and I had too much in common. I know she liked dogs and cats as I do, but as it sometimes is between mothers and daughters, it was easier to see what we didn’t have in common and often times louder. Mom always dressed to the nines as they say, hair colored, permed and coifed, lipstick and powdered. I haven’t been and never have been and at this point I doubt I ever will be like that. Jeans are fine for me, but I do try to look presentable and put my best foot forward as she did. It is not only the change in times, but it was also a fundamental difference between us. It wasn’t until I got my first horse that I learned that my mother liked them just as much as I did. She bought my first saddle – a big, black western saddle with silver trimmings and tapaderos. It was more suited for parade routes than it was for hacking around hills and fields. Mom liked a fancy saddle. It was kinda like a few years later when my dad bought whitewall tires for my red Jeep instead of plain black ones because he thought they looked better.
Historically, Mother’s Day was first celebrated in 1907, thanks to Anna Jarvis. Her campaign to make Mother’s Day a recognized holiday in the United States began in 1905, the year her mother, Ann Reeves Jarvis, died. Ann Jarvis had been a peace activist who cared for wounded soldiers on both sides of the American Civil War, and created Mother’s Day Work Clubs to address public health issues. She and another peace activist and suffragette, Julia Ward Howe, wanted to create a “Mother’s Day For Peace” where mothers would ask that their husbands and sons no longer be killed in war. Ward Howe issued the Mother’s Day Proclamation in 1870, which called upon mothers of all nationalities to band together to promote the “amicable settlement of international questions, the great and general interests of peace.”
Anna Jarvis wanted to honor her mother’s efforts and set aside a day to honor all mothers because she believed “a mother is the person who has done more for you than anyone in the world.”
In 1908, the U.S. Congress rejected a proposal to make Mother’s Day an official holiday. However, owing to the efforts of Jarvis, by 1911 all U.S. states observed the holiday. In 1914, President Woodrow Wilson signed a proclamation designating Mother’s Day, held on the second Sunday in May, as a national holiday to honor mothers. For centuries Mother’s Day has been celebrated around the world in different cultures and at different times of the year although mostly in the spring – the time of rebirth and renewal.
My Mom passed away in 2005, and it is only now, as I contentedly read a book, or joyously paint a dish, or gaze at a field, or feel the magic of a full moon that I’m beginning to realize that we have a lot more in common than I ever thought we had. I guess I’m my mother’s daughter after all, I just wish I’d known it 50 years ago when we could have shared it.
Kathryn Ross is a Wellsville NY journalist, columnist, and community activist. You can reach her anytime, kathr_2002@yahoo.com
DON’T MISS THE 3-DAY MOTHER’S DAY SALE AT GIANT FOOD MART!!
