Tribute to My Mother

Share

I know that Mother’s Day passed a few weeks ago, but I try to do something nice for my mother that isn’t monetary, and I decided to write a few words of tribute to my mother. The more mothers I meet, the more I appreciate my own despite her shortcomings. Everyone has weaknesses, but my mom's strengths were a good match for the things I needed, and her manner was a complimentary match for the way I operate and what I value. At every stage of my life, she got behind and supported things that were important to me, even if she didn't understand or enjoy them. Like the stereotype implies, my mother protected me, not from information or consequences, but from things for which I was actually unprepared, for unrealistic expectations, and from the nincompoopery of the world until I finally matured enough to see things as they really are. My mother was the primary arbiter of my religious exposure, education, and beliefs. If she had not put the Savior first within her life, I'm fairsure I would have ended up as debauched and misguided as the rest of my fellows. I didn't like being different back then, but the help my mom gave me, while it made me odd compared to my peers, gave me opportunities that they didn't get. Sure, I'm not as "successful" or attractive or whatever as they are, but I am a fully functional adult, and so many people close to my age are not that way. Part of that's me, but more of the credit goes to my mother than one might think.

A few weeks before Mother’s Day, I helped my parents move. As we drove away, we talked, and my mother at one point seemed to express some regret that they had not supported me financially in college. I pointed out to her that she kept an eye out for and paid attention to deadlines on scholarships so that I could pay my way on the auspices of academics and activities so that they would not have to contribute money directly. My mom will refer to it as "nagging", but her diligence in this regard helped me meet deadlines and apply for enough scholarships that I came through my undergraduate degree with zero debt. To get me there and to get me to and from for breaks, my parents paid the way, and I qualified for continuation of scholarship funds by virtue of my performance, but I earned enough that I paid for everything and actually gave money back that I didn't use (I couldn't use it because I graduated in under four years). Since then, I've met a fair few number of young people whose parents don't contribute, who in essence make their children earn it, work for it, and appreciate it. Sure, I didn't go to a job to earn the money, but I earned the money in other ways, sometimes by virtue of scholastics, and sometimes via other means, so that people were willing to pay for it. The counselors at school were no help. The scholarship sites only helped you search databases. I filled out the applications. However, without my mother, I would have either incurred debt or been forced to work more than 15 hours/week during school or had to rely on my parents, and I don't think they could actually afford to help me at that time. My siblings receive direct financial assistance; I had my mother's support, encouragement, and dedication to obtain money she and my father might not have been able to provide. She kept me out of debt.

My mother went to bat for me with adults. During middle school, over Christmas break, my report card came in, showing that I had earned a “C” for the semester in English. She went in to confront Mr. Gainey who claimed I had not taken the final. Knowing that wasn’t like me, mom appealed to administration, and when I was able to recollect questions from the final I “did not take” as well as the answer choices in order, the principal ordered Mr. Gainey to give me an A. Whenever other hiccups occured, whether in interpersonal interactions or scholastic efforts, my mom made time to come and meet with school officials. When the neighbors in Mt. Home ID got pissed at us for all the balls we inadvertently kicked over the fence, my mom faced down those grumps. When my baseball coach took me out with a 3-2 count to put in his son who struck out, my mom was at least as annoyed as I was, and when I stated a disinterest in further baseball, she supported that decision. Although she no longer intercedes because I'm an adult myself, she still provides counsel and comfort, and I know she's still on my side and has my back.

When it came to my relationship with, faith in and understanding of God, mom took the driver’s seat. From my earliest years, she was the one who insisted on reading scriptures together as a family, and I can remember as early as age 8 reading a few verses at night and then as I grew before school. As I grew, she was the biggest supporter of and belief in the notion that I could be led and inspired by God, and she never disparaged my claims to receive revelation or feel God’s guidance and love. I remember driving towards Craters of the Moon in Idaho and telling her I felt funny about the storm ahead, and she turned back because she had the same feeling. When I told her at about age 28 about meeting her dead maternal grandmother after our accident in England when I was six and she realized I had actually died in the accident, instead of dismissing it, she wanted to know more. As a missionary, she wrote in a letter that I should dry clean my suit periodically, which led to meeting Ursula Huber of Neumarkt, the only person I found and taught who repented and came to Christ. Sundays, mom and I discuss the gospel; dad does too, but I discuss it with mom more because dad and I are usually working on something or because he’s at church doing whatever leaders do. Apparently, I asked a lot of poignant and pressing questions, even as a small boy, and when my mom didn't know what to say, she taught me to find my own answers. Mostly, this meant going to the library and coming through the card catalogue, but since I started doing my own research at the age of eight, I soon learned the difference between valuable resources and editorial speculation, so when my interests migrated more intot he realm of religion, I knew how to tell the wheat from the chaff, from those who profess religion to those who could actually help me find answers to prayer. I know it was hard for my mother when I left to serve as a missionary, but she had trained me, she continued to support me, and she was there for me as I went off for the first time completely alone on another continent, and when I returned home, she met me at the terminal to welcome me home.

I know that my mother loves me. I know a lot of women who are actually pretty lousy mothers relatively speaking. My mother isn't perfect, but I know that she cares about me and truly wishes for my success and happiness. I am certain it bothers her to see me alone, to watch my heart break, to see me crestfallen, defeated, dejected, inspected, neglected, and rejected. She doesn't pretend to have all the answers; she did for a time, but she learned that I'm my own man and that, because I'm a man, I'm going to be pigheaded and not do what she thinks. She also learned that I'll do something virtuous and praiseworthy that is intended to bring honour to the family and the family name. She might not approve of what I do, but she understands why I think it's important. After all, she trained me, protected me, provided for me, and prepared me to be an adult. I know that she's probably sad that I'm as cynical and bitter as I am, but she knows that this comes from the fact that I have matured and as a consequence of the particular trials and troubles to which life subjects me. Some people get better cards, and some people get worse ones. One of the best cards dealt to me was my family. Richer than I you never can be for I had a mother who read to me. All that I am is in some way accredited to my angel mother. She's not perfect, but she pointed me in the direction of success, help me up as I took my first steps, and provided the truly necessary materials in order to end up where I wanted to be. My mother isn't flawless, but she was the best mother for me, and I think God for letting me choose her.

Make Your Own Future

Share

Since my parents were out of town this weekend and I didn't have dinner at their house, I decided to binge watch the "Back to the Future" trilogy this Sunday night instead. I realized something different about the movies now that I'm an adult that first unsettled me and then gave me a deeper appreciation for just how well written this trilogy is. Unlike other trilogies or anthologies, this wasn't written many years before it went to film, and the movies were filmed and edited in rapid succession. Sure, there are some errors, and it's kind of cliche like much that originated in the 1980s, but it's still one of my favorite franchises, and this realization just enhanced that. Growing up, I identified with Marty and felt the story was about him, his family, and their story. Now, I realize it's also really a story about Dr. Emmet Brown. Emmet is like me in more ways than I realized and more everyman than his character appears to be at first glance. Sure, he's a strange guy, but he's also just an ordinary guy. He's not seeking power or prestige or pelf. He's just trying to find a happy and peaceful life. He's not a superhero. He's an ordinary guy who makes ordinary mistakes who makes ordinary decisions that ultimately decide a happier fate for him than he originally intended. It's a story of hope about some ordinary people with an extraordinary opportunity who find satisfaction in the simple. It's my kind of story.

Emmet Brown is just a simple, nerdy, geeky guy pursuing his own interests regardless of what others think or say. In that way, I identify with the professor. What other kind of person would have pictures of famous scientists above his hearth? Brown uses sophisticated devices for the time, works on projects because they interest him, and is reclusive and introverted. Although he's also rich, he doesn't seem interested in opulence or appearances, and whatever he earns in whatever time period goes towards his scientific interests above all else. He is a man doing what he likes when he likes without the interference or involvement of others without regard for what other people think of him. He's not married or seemingly interested in women whatsoever. Wherever he goes, whether in his living room making inventions or to 2015 or to the old west, he constantly tries to find ways to make the world a better place. His inventions in 1955, his interventions with the McFlys in 2015, and his inventions/influence with the clocktower in 1885 all center around improving things around him. He's your standard everyday man who achieves great things but only really intended to lift where he stood. Emmet genuinely cares about others, including Biff's family. He comes across as the wise older mentor, but he's also a normal guy prone to the same shortcomings as everyone else, making him more personable, more believable, and more affable because although he's clearly smart he's also human.

Doc Brown makes mistakes that throw his life in turmoil. Since nobody, especially not he, ever traveled in time before, he is careful to avoid some things when traveling but makes other mistakes, which ultimately lead to his initial downfall. As with most scientists, he's naive enough to think that the Libyans can't find him and that they'll be satiated by his briefcase full of shiny pinball machine parts. He's careful, but he's not careful enough, and when the Libyans come for him, that really sets the story in motion. If not for Brown's mistakes, nothing would have changed to Marty's past. This entire franchise begins, not because of Marty's mistakes as we may think at first glance, but because of Brown's. Brown violates his own rules and lives at the end of part I, without which he would have never made more mistakes and necessitated future installments. He gets sloppy. People see the time machine who shouldn't, see the Delorean fly who shouldn't, and learn about its potential who shouldn't. By not paying better care to his surroundings, Brown inadvertently reveals to old Biff that there is a time machine, and Biff uses it to totally ablate Doc Brown's revised future happiness by going back and giving his younger self the almanac. Being the chivalric man that he is, Brown inadvertently alters time constantly, saving Clara from the ravine, falling in love, and then refusing to return to where he belongs. He knows you can't play dice with the universe, but his heart overtakes his head, his excitement overruns his logic, and his inexperience throws the entire universe into turmoil, not just things for the McFly family. His humanity and redemption from his mistakes are really the plot of this franchise.

Ultimately, however, Doc Brown discovers opportunity in this story to change his own future for the better. As the franchise comes to an end, you see a rejuvenated Doc Brown appear with his family. At the end of our story, he finds a way to continue to pursue science, to continue to travel through time, and to have a family. It's a story of hope and possibility, not just for Marty, but for Emmet. That titan of invention becomes a troubadour, and he finds his future in the past when his misadventures and mistakes culminate in an opportunity to meet and fall for Clara. Essentially, Marty saves Brown's life, literally and figuratively, as the trilogy concludes. Literally, he gives Brown a letter that prompts a bullet proof vest, and then he travels back in time and saves Brown from Griff by throwing a Frisbie and deflecting the bullet. Figuratively, Marty provides evidence that Brown's life has meaning through his work, since he finally invents something that works, and he gives Brown a chance at a higher purpose because Brown saves and then falls for Clara and has a family. He's depicting a man of about 60 years old by that movie although he's much younger, making Emmet Brown the only character I know from pop culture who is still older than I am when he realizes success. The entire series of events concludes with Brown's own words: "Your future isn't written yet. Noone's has. Your future is what you make of it, so make it a good one." Through their misadventures, both McFly and Brown find a better future than the one they knew when we first met them in 1985. Their relationship in essence transcends time.

"Back to the Future" is about making a better future for the people you love and about changing your fortunes. It's a story about redemption and second chances. It's a story about friendship. The unlikely friendship of Marty McFly and Emmet Brown provides both of them better chances at prosperity and happiness in their futures. It's a story about science. it's a story about hope. This story showcases how even when things go completely awry, even though it may come long after when you expected, you have a chance to be great if you act on opportunities that arise. Of course you are careful, but every life makes mistakes. We don't have to let our mistakes make us. Even Biff, the villain, ends up a better person in the story. Sure, he's a cowed sniveling simpleton, but he's no longer a bully, and he earns an honest living. It's a clean show. There is some violence, but there is little profanity, and Biff always ends up in manure not the profane metaphor used in modernity. It's a clean, family-friendly movie that gave me hope for a bright future as a boy and this weekend renewed my hope for a bright future now that I'm more Emmet than Marty.  I find hope in this new perspective on the story and how beautiful the storytelling is that there can be a happy end, a happier end anyway, even if you must wait longer than most for what you hope. With every choice you make, ever step you take, you decide your own story; you decide the person you'll be. It is possible to correct your mistakes, not with a time machine per se, but in such a way that you are aware of, open to, and acting upon them until you end up where you always intended to be- Back To Your Future.