The selling of Mother’s Day

Look at the Mother’s Day cards one finds in stores. To my grandmother on Mother’s Day, to my aunt, to my sister, to my daughter-in-law, to my god mother, to my best friend’s mother, etc.

I had just dusted off the statuette I bought several years ago, engraved with “To the World’s Greatest Mom,” when my son remarked, “Nothing personal, Mom, but I read that Anna Jarvis, the woman who invented Mother’s Day, did it to commemorate the first anniversary of her mother’s death.”

On that note I decided not to wear the apron of mine which is printed with a similar message, “Our Mom’s the Greatest.”

I was a little miffed. So, a mother has to be six feet under before she receives her just rewards, even if it’s only a box of Whitman’s Sampler?

At least the department stores are on the side of mothers by reminding everyone that “Sunday, May 8, is Mother’s Day.” I also noticed that the Ace hardware stores are not forgetting mothers. They’re featuring a special on socket wrench kits this week.

I’m torn between that and an offer from a rug cleaning firm which telephoned to say they were giving a 10 per cent discount this week. (It was their way of saying, “Thanks, Mom.”)

Many of the nurseries and garden suppliers are offering specials on mulch, peat moss and flats of zucchini to celebrate the occasion. And, say, it’s a great week to put in a patio. Buy two pails and you get the other pail of cement free.

I’m sure if I looked hard enough, I’d find the following inducements:

“Take Mom to the Drag Races at Sears Point on HER Day.”

“Harley-Davidson and Mom — a perfect combination.”

“Every Mom wants a hamster she can call her own.”

“Surprise Mom with a Party Cook Book, one with special menus for Mother’s Day.”

I’ll have to admit, however, that of all the holidays, Mother’s Day is the most complicated, especially if one is married. It’s the domino theory all over again.

Look at the Mother’s Day cards one finds in stores. To my grandmother on Mother’s Day, to my aunt, to my sister, to my daughter-in-law, to my god mother, to my best friend’s mother, etc.

Add to that to my husband’s secretary who happens to be a mother, to my hairdresser, to my favorite grocery store checker, to my insurance agent’s stepmother, to my dentist’s wife and you’ve covered half of the population.

One of my daughter’s friends wanted to be clever by sending her fiancé’s mother a card which read, “To the mother-tobe.”

I wonder if Anna Jarvis ever received a box of candy for her efforts?

This column originally appeared in The San Francisco Chronicle on May 7, 1977.