Today I celebrate the day my mother was born. How will we celebrate? By doing the very thing she would enjoy the most together (thanks to her best bud Judy T.): hear Cecile Richards speak and watch the Indigo Girls perform at a Planned Parenthood Gala downtown. It could not be a more fitting event to attend with my mother, someone who has championed the idea of Womanhood her whole life.
Some of you have heard me mention that I can sum up who I am in three words: Human (because I’m not a vegetable—not yet, at least); Woman/female (because I have different body parts); and Daryl (because I turn my head when someone says “Daryl” in the room). These are the only three terms that can really identify me, and all three have shaped who I am today in many ways because of my mother.
Being human is much more than pursuing a career, defining a place in the world by philosophy or religion, or being a member of a political party. Being human is agreeing to engage with the world fully—learning to allay fears when needed, to express kindness when I don’t feel like it, to accept grace when it’s offered, to pursue adventure in spite of the signs adventure should not be on my list of to-dos. To achieve empathy. All of these things my mother has taught me by her own example of being human. She is perhaps the most engaged person I have ever known. She forges friendships that span decades, she appreciates others for their talents and gifts, she attends workshops and seminars on a myriad of interests, she writes haikus on a regular basis, she creates art, she writes, she fishes, she canoes, she, well, you get what I mean. She is fully Human. I hope to be as good a human someday!
In a world that continues to challenge the state of Womanhood on a regular basis, my mother has taught me to celebrate its benefits while never backing down to defend its rightful place of honor in our world. We just celebrated Mother’s Day, something a friend of mine reminded me we might want to relabel as “It’s Complicated” Day. There is no right way to be a mother, and sometimes we have to accept that our mothering potential is just what it is at that moment, second by second, not knowing if we are doing it “right.” My mother showed me at an early age what it was to be a working mother when many mothers didn’t, she let me wander the world without the safety nets that many parents put in place today, and she warned me that being a woman was not easy in marriage, in work, and in society. My mother defends and celebrates being a woman like no other. That’s why you’ll see her eyes light up and speak passionately today about her support of someone like Hillary Clinton or Cecile Richards if you bring them up. They are her Sheros. I wonder if my mother actually knows that SHE is one of their Sheros—she, along with many other women, helped shape and forge their paths so that they could keep inspiring generations of girls and women in spite of the convoluted messages they all receive, perhaps doubting their every moves simply because they exist as they are. If you ever wonder where my passion came from, it’s from my mother. She taught me what it is to be “Woman.”
Daryl. Yup, that’s my name. My mother gave it to me. No, it’s not a boy’s name. No, it’s not my name because my parents wanted a boy. It’s the name of a woman who was my mother’s friend (in college I think). If it makes you feel better that you know of another woman named Daryl (let me guess, um, is it Darryl Hannah?), then yes, you join the entire human race who knows one other female Daryl in the world. As my mom reads this, she is probably thinking that I am lamenting my name, but I am not. My maiden middle name is Evans. So place that name circa 1970s in Atlanta and you will think I was named after a Braves baseball player named Daryl Evans! Ha! Being a “Daryl” makes me rather unique—and I think my mother wanted that in the best possible way. Being a Daryl has taught me the very lessons I have mentioned above. This human-female can do so many things, not just because my name makes it so, but because it has helped me engage with the world (even if it starts off by explaining the reason for my being a Daryl).
Last weekend, family and friends gathered for an early birthday party for my mother. It was awesome seeing all these people gathered and listening to them speak of my mother in such glowing terms. The guests spanned the generations, and I was pleased that my daughters and niece were there to witness what living life fully looks like. At one point, I spoke before our guests telling what it’s like having my mother in my life. I framed it by telling people what it is like being raised by a woman who says “yes” to life. I recounted an event when I was studying in France. It goes like this:
In my Jr. year in college, I was studying in France, and my mom was going to visit during spring break. She diligently took courses in French so she could speak the language. What she didn’t know was that I planned to take her to Italy when she came! “ Not to worry,” I told her, “French is the second language of Italians, so we can still practice our French!” Oh, my poor mom! But she said “yes!” On our way back to France near the end of our vacation, we took a train to Brussels to visit her friends. If anyone has been to Europe, you know that trains are on strict schedules and do not leave late or early. They do everything exactly at the time posted. So when our train stopped in Brussels, we were prepared at the door of our car to exit when it opened…except the door didn’t open. We were loaded down with all kinds of items from our adventures in Tuscany, and we quickly made our way to the only door that was open. EXCEPT NOW THE TRAIN WAS LEAVING THE STATION! As I reflect on this moment, we had other options before us, but at the time, I only thought about how we had to get off the train. I looked at her (as the train was gaining speed), and I said, “JUMP!” And so she did, and so I did, and we dropped and rolled (almost like stunt experts) along the cement platform—thankfully not to anyone’s real observation! What would her friends have thought of us—two crazy women on a train jumping to make our appointed visit, defying death or injury!
I think back on it now, and I have only this to say: my mother said “Yes” to something that made no logical sense. And more importantly, my mother jumped, not to jump, but to jump WITH me. How fortunate am I that she has been with me all this time? How fortunate are we all to have a Sue in our lives (despite my attempt to kill her in Brussels!). My mother has taught me the power of “yes.” And so today, join me in celebrating 80 years of Sue.
Mom, I love you, yes, yes, I do.
xoxo
DDD
(my mom calls me Darling, Daughter, Daryl)
