Adrienne, Get Your Markers Ready: Presenting Jackie Turner!!!

Some holidays baffle me. I don't wear an American flag shirt on June 14 (but now that I've typed it, I think I will this year just for kicks); I have no desire to be a catholic school girl or naughty nurse on October 31; I know not how to spell Ponksetawny nor really care if the great oracle groundhog sees its shadow; James K. Polk has not once crossed my mind on any President's Day.
Suggestion: This Halloween, if you do choose to dress up, please pair a plaid skirt with a groundhog t-shirt. Stand outside in the sun and watch the shadow of the American flag you are waving.

With that being said, cynics who pretentiously complain that sentimental holidays are nothing more than fabricated, money-generating, ploys geared toward the melodramatic baffle me as well. Are Mother's, Father's, Valentine's, Labor, and Memorial Day made up? Well, sure. Is there a positive correlation between these days and consumerism? Yep. Do they have the potential to spawn indulgent poems and gaudy flower arrangements? Most certainly. But, let's get off our high horses for a minute. While I agree that we should honor and be mindful of those people and those relationships who/that make our lives better everyday, what does it hurt to have a particular 24 hours devoted to them? At the most elemental level, acknowledgment is nice, even if it is unnecessary.

I admit, however, that perhaps I would not embrace these holidays quite so much if I didn't have people in my life so deserving of recognition. As I mentioned in Wednesday's haiku, my father honestly is one of my heroes. I have grown up around people who have worked incredibly hard to provide for their families; sure, Labor Day is a welcomed reprieve from work, but I think it does have a more ethereal value as well. Paying tribute to people whom we have lost seems a healthy sentiment and simply, the "right thing to do." I thus decree these holidays can stay.

As Sunday draws near, however, Mother's Day is obviously the designated holiday on my mind. And, without question, I will spend the day honoring one of the most unselfish, most giving, and most hilarious people I will ever have the honor of knowing (and I say this out of no sense of obligation). Jackie Turner is the one who makes sure everyone else is comfortable before she worries about herself; the maker of the homemade bread that is enjoyed at every family get-together; the entertainer who ensures both a sense of ease and funny conversation among company; the shopper who would let her daughters wear something she just bought, saying, "Oh, when will I ever have a chance to wear it anyway?"; the retired teacher who still inspires stories of "remember when Miss Jackie did a cartwheel?"; the open-minded giver of hugs when I chose/choose paths less traveled; the masterful stater of the obvious who finds a way to still be really, really funny; the dancer from whom I have learned all of my awesome moves AND, the reason why Isabella will be "raising the roof" when her Kindergarten teacher suggests a fun activity; the devoted replier to all emails and forwards and the typist who has decided that "LOL" means "lots of love"; the utterly unselfish wife who, I genuinely believe, has contributed as much to my Dad still being around as the ten years of treatments and surgeries.

I truly feel fortunate to be able to line the pockets of greedy company CEOs on this commercialized, manufactured holiday.
Leigh Ann and Nonna both epitomize all of those qualities and sentiments Sunday should honor. I have the cutest parents in the world. And just FYI, this is my grandmother's house, not my parents. Mom likes "stuff," but she has never had plates in the Christmas tree, used the dishwasher or vents for storage, and thankfully, shuns doll collection. Time means nothing to Grandma. Yet, Mom will still take her antiquing. I told you she was a good woman. Bet Mom would never throw Tucker out of the kitchen for spilling his milk. I can't believe my belt loop was still attached to my pants. I'm telling you, she's foolish. These sunglasses "look" like Mom.:) This was the same day we paid a bunch of attention to I-65 as we merrily made our way to Opryland, entertaining ourselves with versions of Jason Mraz Christmas carols.