I know an admirable mother, apart from that of my children. She is the female of the tildío, a light-footed and lively bird that likes to walk near where there is water, and whose name is onomatopoeic, since her trill seems to say that: “tildío”. Jealous protector of her children, she is an extraordinary actress. If an enemy – a fox, a skunk, a bobcat, a snake – walks near her nest, that excellent mother pretends to be hurt. She drags a wing or a leg, and lets out plaintive cries to attract the predator, who then thinks she is easy prey and goes towards her. Thus, at the risk of her life, she drives away the animal that can devour her chicks. Mother is this little bird, and this day I pay my tribute to her. And what about the lark, the bird that in English is called meadow lark? She makes her nest on the ground, but when she brings food to her young she perches far away, and then walks towards them hidden in the bushes, cunning mother, so as not to show where she has them. In a certain city in the center of Coahuila, whose name I will not say because I love it very much, there is a strange monument that according to official information is dedicated to Don Francisco I. Madero, but that the inhabitants of that industrious population consider erected in honor of the little mothers, for everyone who sees it asks: “What is that mother?” In another city there is a huge statue made of stone, in a modernist style, vaguely reminiscent of a mother figure. People make the following criticism about the aforementioned effigy: “A lot of stone and little mother.” Today is the day dedicated to those who used to be white heads and who are now blonde, red, purple, platinum, raven wing, orange and other exotic and unprecedented colors that do not register neither Newton’s spectrum nor the chromatic circle of Hatt.
Despite the change in times, mothers continue to be honored by their children, many of whom will give them gifts today such as irons, blenders, mixers and other similar gifts for housework. My children, who are now in their fifties, still remember how on the eve of May 10 I took them, still small, to buy at the Sieber Hardware Store in Saltillo the gift that they would give their mother the next day: four cups of pewter or six glass vases with flower decoration. There was no more, and my wife received this gift from her children the same as if they gave her diamond earrings from Tiffany or a Cartier watch. Pepito saw the wedding portrait of his parents and asked his mother: “Is this the forum of the day you came to work for us?” They will tell me what they want, but this thing about women’s liberation is largely a myth. Now, as a general rule, women work outside their homes, but in most cases they continue to be in charge, in addition, of household chores, since the Mexican male, macho as he still is, does not agree to collaborate in these tasks. And neither do the children, under the pretext of school obligations, and so on. To make matters worse, this day most of the families cannot invite mom to eat in a restaurant, because the celebration fell on a business day, and everyone works or has school. That is why I raise my voice again to ask for a change of habit so that Mother’s Day is celebrated on a Sunday, which could well be the first Sunday in May, or the second, as in other countries. I am sure that such a change would be well received by the mothers, after so many changes that have been badly received for not having it. Meanwhile Happy day to all the mothers of Mexico and the world! Diosito has to bless them for helping him so much in his daily tasks. THE END.
MANGANITES
“. Happy mothers day.”.
Celebrate the day that touches us,
of the mother, eagerly.
(Many will celebrate
although in truth they have little).
AFA
LOOKOUT
This man lived a hundred years ago.
This other one died 50 years ago.
This one died 10 years ago.
And this one died yesterday.
This man was emperor.
This other was king.
This was Pope.
This was President of his country.
This man was rich.
This one was poor.
All the men I mentioned had a common characteristic.
They all said the same word when they died.
Mom.
Until tomorrow!…
#politics #worse