There have been many, many wonderful words written in honor of the women who are our Mothers, by many, many wonderful writers. I’ve written a few myownself over the 36 years I’ve been telling stories in print, since my Mother Miz Janice was highly appreciated, my wife Betsy was the Mother of my own three children, and my daughter B. C. with husband John, of course, has produced for us two fine GrandBoys, Sean and Leiton.
Yet the most profound words I consider to have been written on the subject were, as far as I knew at the time I learned them, by an unknown author. Maybe I heard it quoted, or saw it in an anthology, or just absorbed the words without paying proper attention to the author. “Anonymous” covers a lot of sins when folks go to quoting Wisdom for the benefit of audiences one is pontificating unto, and as an author myownself, I have ofttimes figured out the truth of the old saying, “What goes around, comes around,” when a fragment of my own writings gets quoted back to me, but attributed to someone else.
Once during the years when I was doing a lot of speaking hither and yon, a lady asked me months beforehand to speak to her breakfast civic club, “On the first Friday in June,” with the caveat, “Speak on anything you want to.” That week was clear on my calendar, and it was almost a local engagement, 20 miles away, so I quoted her a reasonable fee, she agreed, and we had a date. The day arrived before I realized that the first Friday was actually June Third, mine and Betsy’s Wedding Anniversary. However, the engagement was close, so I told my Bride to plan on sleeping late that morning, and hied me off to do my duty.
Didn’t take much thought to come up with my subject that morning: I told my audience – about half women – A Love Story, naturally, even waxing poetic. Some of the ladies (I’m trying to be modest here) even had tears in their eyes as I expressed my feelings for my wife. I ended my testimony with the quote that I had for years considered to be the epitome of Marriage and Family Love, though admitting that the quote wasn’t original with me: “The Finest Gift a Father can leave his children is the knowledge that he loves their Mother.”
I reckoned that I had bestowed that Gift on my own progeny, thanked my hostess for the invitation to speak, and sat down.
After the meeting concluded, a good many folks came down to say they’d enjoyed my talk, shake my hand, hug my neck, or even to buy a book and get me to autograph it. The last person in line to speak to me wore a policeman’s uniform, and had a suspicious little book in his hand. I quickly thought back to where I’d parked my pickup, but couldn’t recall a parking meter, nor a handicapped sign I might have ignored. Surely he hadn’t seen me speeding to the meeting, tracked me down, and was now going to hand me a ticket?
Nope. He was the town’s Police Chief, and the little book in his hand was not a ticket book, but his personal Day Book. He was speechless as he shoved it forward for my inspection. His Daily Devotional Thought for Friday, June third, was: “The Finest Gift a Father can leave to his children is the knowledge that he loves their Mother.”
But his book named the author, a man named Rex Hespeth. I had never heard of Rex before, but the Chief and I will never forget the day we learned his name!