Each year I am reminded of one Mothers Day when I was quite young. In those days there was a sharp line between women’s work and a man’s job. My Dad, however, had grown up in restaurants and kitchens and knew his way around them.
On this Mothers Day he had dried some dishes and headed out the back door to hang a dish towel on the line. As he was doing this “woman’s work,” a reedy voice piped up from a cross the street. A neighbor kid called over, “Happy Mothers Day, Mr. Gravel.”
Every member of my family remembers and laughs about my dad’s being busted! What a guy. And of course we celebrate my mom, too!
