Crying

We lived in a predominately Polish neighborhood. Like any ethnic group they were distrustful of new people, So it took a while for us to be accepted. 

My youngest brother and youngest sister assimilated faster because they all went to school together. There were children their ages in the neighborhood.

We are not Catholic. Most of the Poles in our community were. We did not attend the same church although there is a beautiful Catholic church on the next block.

My parents were solid people who lived a quiet life. Daddy was charismatic so once people got to know him they were drawn to him.

Mom was quiet but you could feel her strength. She was also accepted and trusted.

There were no children of the same age group as my children. My boys played baseball Most of the boys were Polish but they did not live nearby.

My daughter joined a dance class. They learned traditional Polish dances like the Polonaise and Krakowiak. 

In order for her to attend we had to have insurance policies from the Polish salesman. The mothers were required to join the dancers' Mothers Club.

We paid weekly dues. We made sure each child had an authentic Polish costume. A couple of the women sewed and for a modest price made the skirt and vest. The blouses were simply a white blouse,

The headpieces were expensive. For recitals we had them made at the local flower shop with real flowers. They were a ring of flowers with colorful ribbons down the back.

The Mothers' Club funds helped pay for some of the expenses. That meant we held fund raisers each year. 

Selling candy, selling gift wrap, and even cheesecakes had been moderately successful. We needed to find something new.

I suggested that we make phone calls to mothers for Mothers Day. We would find appropriate poems and call on Mother Day to give the poem chosen as a phone message of love.

We charged a small fee. We made a list of who to call, which poem to recite, and who it was from. We divided them up and on Mothers Day we made our calls.

The mothers all seemed so pleased.

Then my brother's friend who I had known since he was very young burst in. He wanted to know what I had done to upset his mother.

I had made my call and she was crying so hard. He was so upset that I had made his mother cry. I apologized even though I was puzzled as to what I had done. He left in a huff.

Soon he was back. He apologized profusely. He had soothed his mother and found out why she cried.

She had been so touched that her son loved her so much. She loved the poem. She loved her son.

I think that call alone made the whole thing worthwhile.