My mom was a clown. Literally.  At least she started out that way.  She and her partner, Beverly, had an act called “Bobo and Dodo.”  They entertained at children’s parties and marched in parades.  A few years later, they became rag dolls called “Patches & Pockets” and were offered a TV show at WTOL-TV in Toledo, Ohio. Their show ran for 18 years in northwest Ohio and parts of Indiana and Michigan, and even won a local Emmy Award. 

I loved my mom, but because of her celebrity, she was beloved by thousands of other children, too.  Sharing her with them was not a problem.  She had enough jokes and funny facial expressions to go around.  Sadly, mom died two weeks ago at the age of 78 after spending 12 years post-stroke as a paraplegic without speech.   There were over 2,000 people at her funeral, many of them adults who loved watching her show when they were children.  And although I am sad, I smile.  Mom would have wanted it that way. 

Growing up with a funny mother was probably the best childhood a kid could ask for.  Nothing was too small for her to find humor in.  I recall spending hours listening to her serenade my goldfish with silly songs she had created.  “Charlie The Tuna Is Allergic To Water” was a favorite.  Mom also believed that passing gas was a quick ticket to an all-day laugh fest, and she often named them according to their various sounds, such as woofies, tweeters, and thunderclaps.   

But of all my childhood memories of Mom, my favourite was her ability to laugh in the face of fear, when whatever could go wrong, did.  During some of my life’s most desperate, depressing, and anguishing times as a child and teen, mom was always there to force a smile out of me and offer her wisdom about looking on the bright side. 

Even as an adult, when life’s bad moments included three miscarriages and a painful divorce, Mom would phone to cheer me up with her amazing ability to make lemonade out of lemons, and in doing so, she taught me a valuable lesson:  there are no dark days that a positive change of attitude cannot make brighter.  Through her gentle humor, she taught me about hope and gifted me a “Never say never!” attitude.

I am my mother’s child, so naturally, I inherited her humor. My own kids call me “quirky,” but that’s alright by me.  Mom’s legacy lives on through me, and every day, I try to be a good steward of my inheritance.  If I do my job well, my children will always know that there are no mountains in life they cannot climb, no days too dark, and no turbulence too unmanageable.

Thank you, Mom, for a job well done.   Your death has brought  a dark cloud of grief, but your legacy of hope, love, faith, humor, and a knack for looking at life through rose-colored glasses leaves me smiling because I know we will be together again soon….and together, we’ll keep God in stitches for eternity.