Читать книгу Winning: From Walk-On to Captain, in Football and Life - Gary Brackett - Страница 12

While Dad was always opinionated and often critical, Mom was a source of quiet, steadfast love. Dad always felt somewhat distant. Even the way he looked at us felt removed. With her kids, Mom was as tight as they come. We all knew that Sandra Eileen Brackett was our numberone cheerleader. No matter what other obligations she had, no matter the weather or time, she was always there for us. Someone once told me that we grow into what we see. And what we saw from Mom was a great example of kind, caring, tireless parenthood.

I never really appreciated everything my mother went through and the sacrifices she made so that her children could be successful. When my father was home and we wanted to go out or over to a friend’s house, we would ask my father. He did what many men do and told us, “Wait until your mom gets home.”

I took Dad at his word. When she would pull up in the driveway, I would run outside the house and before she could get out of the car, I’d exclaim, “Mom, can I…” No offers of help with the bags. No questions about her day. No, “happy to see ya, Mom.” And her response was always, “Baby, just give me a minute.” I never understood what the minute signified until I began working a full day’s work and would arrive home to a chorus of requests when all I wanted was a minute to breathe. Even in the face of sometimes self-absorbed children, Mom never said a bad word about anyone. She often urged us away from the sheer idea of negativity, “If you don’t have anything good to say about somebody, don’t say anything at all.” I wish I had that same quality.

After Dad’s episode with Greg and subsequent hospitalization in 1991, things became increasingly tight financially. After all, our household incomes went from two to one. Usually Mom stretched the food to feed everyone. But there were rough weeks when she would glance around the table at the scant portions, and decide to scarf ice instead of eating…all so we could have more. She was so convincing in her decisions: “I’m not hungry tonight. I have no idea where my appetite went. Ya’ll split my share!”

On a daily basis, she was someone whose actions did the speaking. In spite of working full-time at two jobs and raising five kids on her own while our father was in treatment, her spirits and love never flagged or waned. Not only was she always in the stands at her kids’ games, she was also the mother who organized all the other fans and brought cowbells to ring for celebratory moments.

Mom’s most epic scheduling miracle in my eyes took place on opening day of little league baseball. The league had scheduled all of the Brackett children’s games to start around the same time. My sister was playing softball; Grant and I were on the Elite Bakery team together; and my brothers Granville and Greg played on Atlantic Electric. Somehow Mom worked her way between all three fields and was there to see every one of our at-bats! She was even able to talk about it on the car ride home.

“How did you watch me, Grant, Greg, Granville, and Gwen, Mom? You only have two eyes!”

“Oh… a mother’s magic is a powerful thing, honey.”

By watching our activities, Mom supported our interests. But she insisted that we get involved in her interests too. And her interests almost always revolved around church. As a result, we were often there every day of the week. Revival one night, Bible study the next, adult choir on Fridays, and children’s choir on Saturdays. All of this was, on a practical level, leading up to Sunday at church. But the most important part for Mom was to have us in a place where we were safe and exposed to good influences. On a practical level, this constant churchgoing fit her most motherly instinct to be with her kids. Since she was the choir director and later an occasional preacher, she was there, and she wanted us with her.

I didn’t always welcome this constant obligation to the church community. We boys would rather be playing some basketball. Thank goodness, however, that we stayed as much as we did. Those experiences laid a foundation and instilled in me faith in Jesus Christ and the power of prayer. Mom believed deeply in those two things. She prayed in response to nearly everything. When you came to mother for advice, her first response was, “Have you prayed about it? You should work as if everything depends upon you, and pray as if everything depends on God.”

When that advice didn’t cover it, she turned to encouraging words: “Anything is possible if you put your mind to it!” or “Attitude determines altitude.”

Goodness knows she needed reassurance herself at times. Her job must have been enormously draining. To work as a public health nurse with the Camden Board of Social Services, she would have seen the worst of America’s poverty. Her job consisted of helping others through daily existences marred by drugs, despair, and illness. She served crackheads and depressed elderly patients. Her job required a level of composure even as others were stressed or strung out. She brought this trait home; her most reassuring quality was this sense of calm. For those years when my dad was sick, Mom very well could have dipped into despair and anxiety. She did not. Not only did she hold it together, she constantly spoke of her life as a blessing. How frequently in life do those that face great hardship feel the most blessed? She spent countless hours donating her time and money to worthy causes without ever asking anything in return.

A genuine disciple, she didn’t think about how much time she devoted to such causes. She just thought of things that needed to be done, and then she did them. She had goals in mind for her family and never deviated from those goals. As she soldiered on towards them, Mom never shied away from sacrifice.

In her honor, I host a dinner every year called the Tender Heart Luncheon. This event honors mothers who have children with a chronic illness. It offers those moms a chance to come together and share, to comfort and encourage. It is the kind of day that I believe my mother deserved every day. To lighten the mood a bit, I always share some of the funny things that my mother taught me, lines I read once in a poem by Bert Christenson called, “Things My Mother Taught Me,”

My mother taught me TO APPRECIATE A JOB

WELL DONE.

“If you’re going to kill each other, do it outside. I just

finished cleaning.”

My mother taught me RELIGION.

“You better pray that will come out of the carpet.”

My mother taught me about TIME TRAVEL.

“If you don’t straighten up, I’m going to knock you

into the middle of next week!”

My mother taught me LOGIC.

“Because I said so, that’s why.”

My mother taught me MORE LOGIC.

“If you fall out of that swing and break your neck,

you’re not going to the store with me.”

My mother taught me FORESIGHT.

“Make sure you wear clean underwear, in case you’

in an accident.”

My mother taught me IRONY.

“Keep crying, and I’ll give you something to cry

about.”

My mother taught me about the science of OSMOSIS.

“Shut your mouth and eat your supper.”

My mother taught me about WEATHER.

“This room of yours looks as if a tornado went

through it.”

My mother taught me about ANTICIPATION.

“Just wait until we get home.”

My mother taught me ESP.

“Put your sweater on; don’t you think I know when

you are cold?”

My mother taught me HUMOR.

“When that lawn mower cuts off your toes, don’t

come running to me.”

My mother taught me WISDOM.

“When you get to be my age, you’ll understand.”

This poem always gets a laugh with the women at the luncheon, even if not all of those lines point straight to my mom. After this lighthearted joking, I talk about the amazement that a son can feel for his mother’s steady commitment. We aren’t always mature enough to realize it or say thanks when we are young, but the best lessons I learned from Mom came simply from her resilient presence. Moms don’t always do the most glamorous jobs in a family. Washing and folding clothes, shuttling kids in carpool, making the meals…these aren’t often the subject of poems or movies about greatness. But the moms at Tender Heart Luncheon, like my mom, are so often the backbone of families during times of turmoil or strife. They are truly great.

Without Mom, I would not have been sitting on that plane heading down to Miami. Who knows where I would have ended up, if when Dad had to go for treatment, she hadn’t managed to support all of us both emotionally and financially? How she managed to do it all, I’ll never know. But she would be so proud if she were still here. I can hear her now saying in that positive tone, “Attitude determines your altitude.” wel1 l’m sky high, Mommy, sky high!

“Hey, yo, Gary.” A knock on my arm once again snaps me out of my daydreaming

“What is that brace on your arm, man? You gonna be able to go for the big game?”

• • • • •

“This brace, man? This is nothing. Of course I’m going to play. When you grow up playing against bigger and faster competition, in the streets no less, a little strain doesn’t even cross your mind in a big game like this.”