This was just one of the plethora of handy sayings my mother kept in her linguistic back pocket.
While “wherever you go, there you are,” sounded pointlessly obvious when I was younger, it’s turned out to be something in which I find more truth as the years go by.
The saying, and my idea of what it means, turn out to be pretty fundamental to my love of crows, as well as the way in which I look at the world overall.
I explore it a little in, City Crow Stories:
Crow watching is an ultra slow version of birdwatching; instead of darting about in search of new species to add to a list, you find yourself looking at things more closely and seeing the wonder there. My mother had an extensive repertoire of handy sayings, and when I’m enjoying time with the local crows I can always hear her saying, “Wherever you go, there you are.”
The truth of this saying has become more apparent to me as I get older. It also seems profoundly linked to the increasing need for us all to start finding more real joy in what we already have, and where we already are.
I was reminded this week about the many, many other sayings my mam (as we call moms in Newcastle) used every day when our local morning radio show had a call-in contest for remembered maternal aphorisms. There were some great ones and the more I thought about it, the more of my own mother’s surfaced like flotsam in my cluttered brain.
We knew she was really, really mad if “hells bells and buckets of blood” was uttered. The ultimate sanction for misbehaviour was, luckily, never enacted as it sounded gory: “You’ll get your head and your hands and your brains to play with.” Since she was a very gentle woman, we did not live in nearly as much fear as you’d think such a statement might engender.
Some of her sayings bring back in cinematic detail the occasions when they were deployed. The day she was running to catch the bus with me and my baby brother in tow and tripped on the stairs, spraining her ankle, muttering from a prone position on the sidewalk, “more haste, less speed.” I was quite impressed that she was managing to be so philosophical, but looking back I think she was trying not to scare her kids by crying or swearing, or both.
As a teenager I moved to a faraway town to go to university. During my first term I suffered that inevitable first romantic heartbreak and was feeling pretty crushed. In response to what must have been a tearful phone call, I received a letter from my mom exhorting me to remember that “it’s always darkest before the dawn” and that “every cloud has a silver lining.” She brought it all home with the always popular “it’s all part of life’s rich tapestry.”
Of course, I was still heartbroken, but my mom’s borderline unhinged efforts to give me a long distance boost and a virtual hug did make me laugh and cry at the same time.
And I remember that letter as if it was yesterday, while I can’t even remember the name of the boy I was shedding tears over.
My lovely mom’s been gone now for 25 years, but I think of her every day.
The reason I love the hellebores I post about so often, is that she had them in her garden, and looking at them reminds me of her.
Her death was unexpected and I was a mess. As I was sobbing quietly at home, trying to get an emergency passport renewal to fly to England, my son came to offer some advice. For a four year old more usually to be found ricocheting off walls and furniture, he spoke with quiet authority. He had prepared a “to do” list for me:
- Remember her behind your eyes
- Remember everything she showed you
- Paint your house beautiful colours and fill it with pictures of her.
I try, still, 25 years later, to follow that wise advice every day — and that seems to include having all those handy sayings rattling around in my brain and seeing how they fit into my life as I get older … even on those days when I feel like “the Wreck of the Hesperus” or as if I’ve been “dragged through a hedge backwards.”
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So very touching and beautiful. Many of those sayings are ones I heard from my mom (who is also gone). Thank you.
Happy Mother’s Day to you June. That is a beautiful soulful post about your mother. I lost my mother over 70 years ago. I was barely two years old and cannot dredge up a single memory or vision of her. I’m happy to know you can remember your mother “behind your eyes”. Much love to you June. I’m so glad you exist.
Oh Suzy, so sorry to hear you lost your mother at such a very young age.
Thanks so much Suzy. I’m so sorry you have no memories of your mother — such a terribly young age to have lost her.
Your remembrance is the first thing I’ve read this morning, and so beautifully touching! My mother had many sayings also – reading this has helped me feel especially close to her today. Thank you, and happy Mother’s Day.
Thanks so much Deborah — I’m so happy the post brought to mind memories of your mother too.
What a beautiful read on a Mother’s Day morning and what a wise 4 yr old boy you have. Missing my Mom today too…..thank you June and Happy Mam’s Day.
Thanks, Debra! The wise 4 year old just turned 30 this year — hard to believe!
Happy Mother’s day June!
Thank you for this most beautiful story and the photos of you & your lovely “mam”.
I lost my mum 25 years ago as well and still feel her presence with me every day…and you’ve reminded me of some of her many qoutes and sayings as well.
“Always with a smile”.
Have a motherly day : )
PeggyE
Thanks so much, Margaret.
Hi June,
So wonderful to wake up to your beautiful lyrical tribute to your mother. Mine has been gone 32 years, but she’s still with me and I hear her words.
I look forward to the crow book and your words of wisdom.
Happy Mothers Day,
Ellen
Thanks, Ellen.
June, thank you! I couldn’t find a focus for all the things I feel on this day over the loss of my Mother, Grandmother, and Other Mothers (aunts, friends). I was staying numb. Now I can cry a little and laugh a lot.
Thanks so much Barbara — I’m so glad the post was a little helpful.
Thank you for this delightful tribute! And Happy Mother’s Day to you💐
So touching…thanks for sharing June… for those of us who have lost our Moms especially. You write so beautifully 🌷
From the photo of your mam holding you as a toddler, I sure can see those same twinkling eyes that you have inherited. Thank you so much for this beautiful tribute to your mother. Both of you were so fortunate to have each other.
And we are so lucky to have you!
Here I am where I am quietly sobbing reading your lovely story.
Here I am where I am quietly sobbing through your lovely post.
A marvelous tribute to your mam June and brings to mind so many of my eccentric moms witticisms.
Eccentric moms are the best moms, I think! 🙂
Hi June, thanks for your lovely remembrances of your Mum; they chime so closely with my own. My Mum too has been gone for 25 years this August. She too had a vast library of sayings that so eloquently sum up things, but I shouldn’t “speak like a ha’penny book without a back”! “Between you, me and the gatepost”, the sayings are wonderful, and so true. Remembering them all is a bit like “pulling hen’s teeth”, but are a timeless gift to all of us lucky enough to have had an English mum.❤️
What a lovely tribute to your lovely mom.
My mom too had a few colourful saying as you might recall. “Yer darned tootin’!” When she was really angry, “ I’m so mad I could spit!” If she felt unwell, “I feel like death warmed over”. When talking about the large number of people at an event, “Everybody and their brother were there”. 😘