A tribute to the mother ship on the occasion of her 80th birthday

Aweh dearly beloved fellow ruminants & groupies in day 114 of no lockdown.

 Period as an ivory tower academic 119 days

Forgive me dear readers it has been two weeks since my last blog. In good science fiction movies, it is always the imposing and often terrifying mother ship you see approaching earth as the movie opens accompanied by a very menacing bass rumble, even though there is no sound in space.  The loud bass rumble is meant to rattle your bones and make it very clear that you don’t mess with the mother ship. A proper powerful bass rumble is one of the primary justifications for a powerful sub-woofer.  If you start the movie with a tinny squeak from the TV speakers, you will not take that mother ship seriously and much of the impact of the movie will be lost.

One never refers to a father ship because it is mothers that hold a civilization and a family together. This includes aliens coming to destroy the earth. A mother is not to be trifled with.

My mother has just turned eighty and we are celebrating this milestone. Right now, much of her time is spent looking after my father who has dementia probably caused by Alzheimer’s disease. He will not read this blog, nor will I discuss it with him because it will not be helpful. Unless you have experienced this terrible disease it is hard to describe how tough it is for family members to deal with. However hard it is for me it is a thousand times more difficult for my mother who cares for him every day. It is my observation that it is much more difficult for my mother than it is for my father. He is generally cheerful living in the moment generally oblivious of his condition although there are moments of frustration and bewilderment, but they soon pass.

Nursing a family member is not a new experience for my mother. When Geoff, my younger brother who was born in 1966, was 18 months old he was diagnosed with kidney cancer and the day after the diagnosis the cancerous kidney was surgically removed. At that time chemotherapy was a new and experimental treatment and Geoff started a brutal chemotherapy regimen that nearly killed him. He did not walk like a normal toddler and was weak and underweight and it was only when he was four and recovering that he started a normal childhood. She sat by his bedside for hours on end playing the Beatles to him on a portable record player.

Let it be.
Let it be
And in my hour of darkness, she is standing right in front of me.
Let it be.

One day, when Geoff started tapping his toes to the music then she knew it was going to be all right.

I was only five when this started, and it is only much later that I fully comprehended what my mother went through. She was there with him every step of the way. She also looked after me and my younger sister. At no point did I feel deprived or that my brother took priority. Such is what a mother does.

Although my mother studied French and maths at university, she spent most of her life being a mother while my father worked. She did use her French to translate French patents into English for patent attorneys using an IBM golfball typewriter that she also used to type my MSc thesis for me before word processors took over. That was a labour of love.  It is now with the benefit of hindsight that I can properly reflect on the influence that my mother has had on my life. There are so many things where she has influenced me. Fierce independence of mind, not concerning yourself too much with what others think, and critical thinking are just a start. A love of maths and science was encouraged. Reading was encouraged although we differed on Victorian novels and the pursuits of the idle rich. My mother taught me to play chess and was behind me every step of the way to a Ph.D. in chemical engineering and becoming an academic. Both my brother and sister were encouraged and supported through their degrees. We are a learned family and much of that is her doing.

Then, of course, I and my siblings were adults and we asserted that fierce independence my mother taught us, and my mother was in the background. Always there, but I’m ashamed to say, not front of mind. I was busy with my career, my own family, delusions of grandeur and narcissistic pursuits. Having never worked in a complex corporate with its complex political machinations I found my mother idealistic and out of touch with how the real world works. I called her naïve and she was and still is. Perhaps I was not the best son.

Looking back, for a time, I worked too hard to the detriment of my family and those closest to me. A corporate does not have your back when things get tough and in the end, I quietly slipped out of the back door with so many others in a downsizing without an official farewell, kind word, or pat on the back. I was not unique. They did pay me, and I am grateful for that. My corporate days are over and I’m even more grateful for that.

The role of a parent, particularly a mother, is the most important role in the world. Mothers are what hold it all together. As with many families, our family is very complex with powerful and difficult personalities, except for me, of course. Things do not go smoothly and there are lots of moving parts and many mistakes have been made. In the middle of all of this is the mother ship trying to herd the cats however imperfectly. I still have time to try to be a good son if it doesn’t require reading Victorian novels about the aristocracy.

Thank you for all the ideas and comments. I really appreciate them and please keep them coming.

Regards

Bruce