Happy Mothers Day

Above: Mommy and me. Neither of us has aged a day since 1987!

Of all the Hallmark Holidays out there, Mothers Day is the most genuine or, at least, most justified. My mom is the best: she corrects my typos, mixes my chocolate milk and takes it as a sign or endearment---I hope---when I say I aspire to marry a neurotic Jewish woman from Westchester. When I was a baby, my mother used to lull me to bed with folk anthems by Peter, Paul and Mary and Joni Mitchell. I may not have learned how to tie my shoes or properly part my my hair, but I certainly remember those lyrics she used to sing. In fact, I think I subconsciously plagiarize them on a daily basis...

The Circle Game:

Yesterday, a child came out to wander
Caught a dragonfly inside a jar
Fearful when the sky was full of thunder
And tearful at the falling of a star

And the seasons they go 'round and 'round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

Then, the child moved ten times 'round the seasons
Skated over ten clear frozen streams
Words like, "When you're older", must appease him
And promises of someday make his dreams

And the seasons they go 'round and 'round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we can only look behind
From where we came,
and go round and round and round
In the circle game

Sixteen springs and sixteen summers gone now
Cartwheels turn to car wheels through the town
And they tell him, "Take your time. It won't be long now.
'Til your drag your feet to slow the circles down"

And the seasons they go 'round and 'round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

So the years spin by and now the boy is twenty
Though his dreams have lost some grandeur coming true
There'll be new dreams, maybe better dreams and plenty
Before the last revolving year is through.

And the seasons they go 'round and 'round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return, we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and 'round and 'round
In the circle game
And go 'round and 'round and 'round in the circle game.