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It's Still The Economy, Stupid
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Palin's No Shrinking Violet
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Palin's Learning Curve
Obama Off-Balance from Palin Flip-Flops on O'Reilly
Johnny's Got A New Girl
Martha's Big Adventure - Enquiring Minds Want to Know
Abstinence Education Is Still A Good Idea
Crying Wolf On The Economy While Ignoring Real Perils
The Dems Do Denver
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Palin, Pregnancy And The Pulpit
Sarah's Choice
Convention(al) Reflections
Farewell To An American Hero
The New Life of The Grand Old Party
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Harper's Index
Don't They Have Birth Control Up In Alaska?
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Saving The GOP And The Unbearable Lightness of Being Sarah Palin
Building The Bridge
Married Liberals With Children
Mosdirection In Minnesota
Logical Consequencse
Which Ticket Really Will Deliver Change Voters Want?
The Perfect Stranger
Game On: Let The Race Begin
Michelle Obama: Family-Values Feminist -- Or Phony?
The Role of A Lifetime
What's So Terrific About Mccain's Palin Pick?
The Four Stages of Conservative Female Abuse
Later Conventions Make For A Strange Election Season
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On Shooting Taggers: Why Conservatives And Liberals Differ
Mccain Wants Moose Hunter In White House
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A Human-Resources Handbook
Palin's Gender Alone Won't Sway Women Voters
The RNC's Unconvention
Palin's State Reaps The Windfall Profits McCain Decries
Finally, We Care About A Teen Pregnancy
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Palin Has Tall Mountain to Climb
McCain Palin Can Join the Club -- Interview with Pat Toomey
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We've Come A Long Way, Baby
Impulse, Meet Experience
Gustav's Silver Lining



Mother's Day -- Don't Take Her For Granted
Tom Purcell 5/7/2008
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Mother's Day -- Don't Take Her for Granted

By Tom Purcell

I used to take her for granted.

When my five sisters and I were babies in her womb, she never took so much as an aspirin for a headache. She never put anything in her body but the nutrients we needed to grow, and I took that for granted.

As a child, my world was rock solid because of her. She put our needs so far before her own that we didn't know that she had needs. She loved us without condition. I was so unaware of the fear and pain less fortunate children suffer that I didn't know such concepts existed. She worked hard to create that world, and I took that for granted.

As a teen, I gave her grief. I told her how wrong she was about religion, child rearing, everything. She was just a housewife, I said. What could she possibly know. I challenged her because she was strong, and I took her strength for granted.

She was extraordinarily moral. I still can't tell a lie, thanks to her, and I even blush when I'm innocent and people think I'm lying. The only thing she hated more than dishonesty was phoniness. She made sure we were, above all, genuine. I took her extraordinary honesty and genuineness for granted.

She prized graciousness and friendliness.
She treated everyone the way she wanted to be treated. She was always full of compassion and understanding. The phone still rings constantly at her home, people calling for consolation, reassurance or to be cheered up on a down day. I took her graciousness and friendliness for granted.

She enjoyed simple things. The smell of a flower could send her into fits. The silliness of a child could make her laugh for days. She still sits outside on the deck every morning, enjoying the smell of spring, the taste of fresh, hot coffee, the conversation of her husband of 52 years. But I took her simple nature for granted.

As other parents nudged their children toward careers in accounting or engineering, she nurtured our creativity. While accountants and engineers are important, she believed, even more important are wit, imagination and beauty. I took her love of beauty and creativity for granted.

She sent me off into the world full of enthusiasm, hope and naïvete. My early expectations were unrealistic, I soon found. I took risks -- tried my hand at my own business -- and, early on, I failed. The work world proved to be much more competitive and challenging than I expected. I was frustrated and angry. I took my anger out on her.

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By Angel Boligan - Cagle Cartoons, El Universal, Mexico City * Posted 05/10/2003
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© Copyright 2003  Angel Boligan - All Rights Reserved.