INSIGHT
On this page you will find...
- A Child to Love
- World's Meanest Mother
- Standing By...
A Child to Love
You can have your wealth and riches
All the things so many seek,
Position, power, and success,
The fame you long to keep.
You can earn as much as you wish,
Reach a status high above,
But none of these can equal
Having one sweet child to love.
'Tis the greatest gift from heaven,
Little arms that hold you tight,
And a kiss so soft and gentle
When you tuck them in at night.
A million precious questions
And each story often read,
Two eyes so bright and smiling,
And a darling tousled head.
God has never matched the goodness
Of a trusting little face,
Or a heart so full of laughter
Spreading sunshine every place.
A child to hold and cuddle,
'Tis a gift from God above,
And the world is so much brighter
When you have a child to love.
World's Meanest Mother
I had the meanest mother in the whole world.
While other kids ate candy for breakfast, I had to have cereal, eggs and toast. When others had coke and candy for lunch, I had to eat a sandwich. As you can guess, my dinner was different too from other children.
My mother insisted in knowing where we were at all times. You'd think we were on a chain gang. She had to know who our friends were and what we were doing. She insisted that if we said we'd be gone for an hour, that we would be gone for an hour or less.
I am ashamed to admit it, but she actually had the nerve to break the child labor law. She made us work! We had to learn to wash dishes, make beds, learn to cook and all sorts of cruel things. I believe she lay awake nights thinking up mean things for us to do.
She always insisted on telling us the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. By the time we were teenagers she was much wiser, and our lives became rougher.
None of this tooting the horn of a car for us to come running. She embarrassed us no end by making our dates and friends come to the door to get us. I forgot to mention, while my friends were dating at the mature age of 12 and 13, my old-fashioned mother refused to let me date until I was 15 and 16.
My mother was a complete failure as a mother. None of us has ever been arrested, or beaten a spouse. Each of my brothers served his time in the service of his country. And who do we have to blame for this terrible way we turned out? You are right, our mean mother.
Look at all the things we missed. We never got to take part in a riot, burn our draft cards and a million and one other things that our friends did. She made us grow up into respectful, educated, honest adults.
Using this as a background, I am trying to raise my children. I stand a little taller and I am filled with pride when my children call me mean. You see, I thank God, He gave me the meanest mother in the whole world. I think the world could use more mean moms and dads.
-- submitted by Lori Hall, Texas (in March 22, 1999 HEARTWARMERS newsletter)
Lori says:
This was first written by Orien Fifer in the Phoenix Gazette. I no longer have the date. This article fell out of my meanest mother's Bible. The article was a bit faded but none of the truth and humor has gone out of it. A bit like my mom.
I too am thankful for my mean mother and the love of God she has planted in my heart
CORRECTION NOTICE
In March of 2000, I (HOT) received an email from the TRUE author of this article.
Here is an excerpt from that email...
"I am going to forward you the original article, "Meanest Mother", that I wrote in 1967. I noticed on your web page, you had a copy that has been changed many, many times.
This was first published in the Our Sunday Visitor, a Catholic newspaper, in 1967, and again in Guideposts, a magazine, by Dr. Norman Vincent Peale. It has a copyright.
I never mind anyone using it, non-profit, as long as they use the original and my name as author. I am very pleased that you liked it enough to put on your web page, but would appreciate it, if you would change it to reflect the original. It seems to have taken on a life of its own, and I have spent many years trying to keep it corrected. I wrote this because my three children thought I was such a mean mom. I never intended to have it published, but friends and family encouraged me to submit it for publication. I have heard many stories as to how people received it. I suppose the one that touched my heart the most, was the lady who said it was read at a dinner after her mother's funeral.
Thank you for putting it on your web page. I am looking forward to reading the original there also. Thank you, Bobbie Pingaro
Orien Fifer worked for a newspaper in Arizona many years ago. It ran in his column and when people cut it out of the newspaper, they cut out his name and he was given credit. I was in contact with Mr. Fifer many years ago."
The following is the ORIGINAL version of this touching article...
The Meanest Mother
Written by Bobbie Pingaro 1967
I had the meanest mother in the whole world.
While other kids ate candy for breakfast, I had to have cereal, eggs or toast. When others had cokes and candy for lunch, I had to eat a sandwich. As you can guess, my supper was different than the other kids' also. But at least, I wasn't alone in my sufferings. My sister and two brothers had the same mean mother as I did.
My mother insisted upon knowing where we were at all times. You'd think we were on a chain gang. She had to know who our friends were and where we were going. She insisted if we said we'd be gone an hour, that we be gone one hour or less--not one hour and one minute.
I am nearly ashamed to admit it, but she actually struck us. Not once, but each time we had a mind of our own and did as we pleased. That poor belt was used more on our seats than it was to hold up Daddy's pants. Can you imagine someone actually hitting a child just because he disobeyed? Now you can begin to see how mean she really was.
We had to wear clean clothes and take a bath. The other kids always wore their clothes for days. We reached the height of insults because she made our clothes herself, just to save money. Why, oh why, did we have to have a mother who made us feel different from our friends? The worst is yet to come.
We had to be in bed by nine each night and up at eight the next morning. We couldn't sleep till noon like our friends. So while they slept-my mother actually had the nerve to break the child-labor law. She made us work. We had to wash dishes, make beds, learn to cook and all sorts of cruel things. I believe she laid awake at night thinking up mean things to do to us.
She always insisted upon us telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, even if it killed us- and it nearly did.
By the time we were teen-agers, she was much wiser, and our life became even more unbearable. None of this tooting the horn of a car for us to come running. She embarrassed us to no end by making our dates and friends come to the door to get us. If I spent the night with a girlfriend, can you imagine she checked on me to see if I were really there. I never had the chance to elope to Mexico. That is if I'd had a boyfriend to elope with.
I forgot to mention, while my friends were dating at the mature age of 12 and 13, my old fashioned mother refused to let me date until the age of 15 and 16. Fifteen, that is, if you dated only to go to a school function. And that was maybe twice a year.
Through the years, things didn't improve a bit. We could not lie in bed, "sick" like our friends did, and miss school. If our friends had a toe ache, a hang nail or serious ailment, they could stay home from school.
Our marks in school had to be up to par. Our friends' report cards had beautiful colors on them, black for passing, red for failing. My mother being as different as she was, would settle for nothing less than ugly black marks.
As the years rolled by, first one and then the other of us, was put to shame. We were graduated from high school. With our mother behind us, talking, hitting and demanding respect, none of us was allowed the pleasure of being a drop-out.
My mother was a complete failure as a mother. Out of four children, a couple of us attained some higher education. None of us have ever been arrested, divorced or beaten his mate. Each of my brothers served his time in the service of this country.
And whom do we have to blame for the terrible way we turned out?
You're right, our mean mother.
Look at the things we missed.
We never got to march in a protest parade, nor to take part in a riot, burn draft cards, and a million and one other things that our friends did. She forced us to grow up into God-fearing, educated, honest adults.
Using this as a background, I am trying to raise my three children.
I stand a little taller and I am filled with pride when my children call me mean.
Because, you see, I thank God, He gave me the meanest mother in the whole world.
written by Bobbie Pingaro (1967)
lpingaro@interconnect.net
Standing By...
When troubles come your soul to try
You love the friend who just stands by.
Perhaps there's nothing they can do
The thing is strictly up to you.
For there are troubles all your own
And paths the soul must tread alone.
Times when love can't smooth the road
Nor friendship lift the heavy load.
But just to feel you have a friend
Who will stand by until the end.
Whose sympathy through all endures
Whose warm handclasp is always yours.
It helps somehow to pull you through
Although there's nothing they can do.
And so with fervent heart we cry
God Bless the friend who just stands by.
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