The ghost from mothers day past

I grew up the son of a poor dirt farmer, which meant that we had to learn a variety of survival techniques from a very early age. On of which was cashing in on the imperialist American holiday complete and total fuckery.

My father was a brilliant illegal immigrant. While unable to hold down a job or get a proper education, he quickly managed to understand the shallowness of the American culture he was so readily mocking and emulating on a daily basis. His favorite new American holidays were Valentines Day and Mothers day. He explained to us that these were days where guilt was the over riding link, not love, honor or respect.

His plan, on a yearly basis, was spend most of Saturday before, say Mothers day, cruising local funeral homes and other places of worship. Find flowers is what he would say. As his scheme grew over the years, when he had literally hundreds of people working for him, he would tell people, the best way to profit is by not spending money.

Words of wisdom to lead your life by.

Anyway, he would bring all the stolen or otherwise free flowers back to his leased warehouse, where he would hire his family and later his children and then much later hoards of other illegals to pick through the flowers and create new and beautiful bouquets. On the sunday of Mothers Day, or any Valentines Day, my father would hire homeless people and other "down and outers" to stand on street corners and sell the flowers.

The brilliance of this plan was quite simple, free flowers sold by lowly paid people to guilt ridden idiots, equals big profits. Enough, in the later years, to afford a mansion in the south of France and a private jet. All true.

If my father taught me nothing, he taught me that a way to a womans heart is a cherry covered in chocolate. It was his romantic gesture that he portrayed on a yearly basis to my often overly medicated mother. In my business minded fathers world view, if things were going well in the relationship, you could pick up any package of chocolate covered cherries. When things were bad in his relationship with my violent and quite possibly insane mother, you had to find the very best chocolates. A wise lesson would be a month outside of major holidays, he would clean up his act and begin seducing her with charm, that way, when the holiday arrived, she was again back in love with lowered expectations. Sometimes I think my father only treated my mother nice a month before romantic holidays solely to save 10 dollars on chocolates.

Which brings me to the latest mothers day. I found myself alone on a saturday night, dancing to the music blaring over the loud speakers at the new Trashy Crap You Don't Need store. TCYDN has been opening warehouse style stores all over the country and all you have to do to become one of the super special members is show an ID and pay 50 dollars. For that, you get an array of tasty free samples of processed chicken parts and stale tortilla chips. One time a man died in the mens room and was not found for 3 days, even though someone kept signing the form that showed the bathroom had been reviewed and inspected on an hourly basis. Heads would roll. None ever did.

My point is that if you love someone enough, you should get out on a night before any type of holiday, and do something, well, special.

The point is, on Mother's Day I make a point to go to a store, find the Fiddle Faddle section of purchase a box for my mother.