Rules for Living and Dying

Rules for Living and Dying

Your mother tells you things you KNOW are wrong, but she is right.
Always, she is right- even your father knows that simple truth.
He will forever keep the peace, lips sealed, forehead free of frown.
And so will you- for your mother is right.

Mothers teach their children- appreciate what you have. Share with others.
Share your toys, share your fears and your joys.
Give more than you take and never stop learning.
Knowledge is power, she says, not to be held stingily
but shared with others, just like your toys.
Broaden your horizons, spread your wings-
but always remember to fly back home to see your mother- she is right.

You have obligations, she says. Some are spoken-
“Do your chores, Respect your parents. And your elders.”
Others sneak into your subconscious-
Somehow, you must outlive your parents.
That is your job, to be there until the end.
Not like the air conditioner, which will always die on the hottest day.

“Children keep you young,” she declares.
But then it is no longer you keeping your parents young-
the grandchildren come along and get away with everything you couldn’t.
What is this? He can eat in the living room?
And watch TV while doing his homework?
These unconditional loves for my son are not the same, but
that’s OK now, because Mom is right!

“You should not live with a man unless you love him,” she tells me.
Then why is Murphy living here? He has moved in.
So, I will get him a social security number, tell the IRS he is mine!
Don’t be a high maintenance friend, she admonishes.
But, my friend Murphy is needy and sucks me dry.
I will not abandon him, though, because she has taught me. I know the rules!

Discover things! What wonderful advice!
If my Discover bill is any indication, I have taken that advice to heart.
I’ve Discovered the veterinarian
who takes care of my other best friend.
They should have been a package deal,
buy the dog, get the veterinarian free.

“Look!” she tells me. “You’re not doing that right.”
She has taught me many arts- to sew, to paint, to laugh, to cry.
Other arts she insinuated subtly, by example.
The art of criticism, from myself, from others
but, most of all, to not criticize harshly, to not hurt.


Do bad things happen to good people for a reason?
Mom says not, but, perhaps, just this once,
I could hurt the person who invented those little stickers-
the ones that go on fruits and vegetables.
Stick them to his forehead and bake him in the sun until the stickers never come off.
“That’s not nice!” she says. “But a good idea.”
Let’s do it because Mom’s always right!

Learn to express yourself! is her sage advice.
Speak through your mouth, your canvas, your paper, the company you keep.
So, I keep the company of a husband,
one who accepts that bond with Mom Who is Always Right
and the dogs who show me how to love people.
Oh, and the cat who shows the dogs who’s boss.
And express undying love and gratitude for Mom
who she says she will not always be here
and I fear so that she is right.