Trump on Mother’s Day

There was nothing going on Sunday but Mother’s Day and the latest re-hashings of that complicated story about President Donald Trump firing the director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, so we chose to spend the morning and the early afternoon with Mom. All in all, it proved the far better choice.
She and Dad started worshipping at Riverwalk after our family’s congregation had folded and back when we weren’t so diligent about weekly worship, then went off to the Philadelphia in pursuit of Dad’s career and wound up involved in the many good charitable works of a Church of Christ there, and in the meantime we desperately re-connected with that much smaller and older Church over on West Douglas. Mom and Dad have joined us there for worshipping and found it reassuringly familiar, so much like the church where they were married and where we once served as a ring-bearer at a cousin’s also very happy marriage, and although there’s usually an Arkansas River and a full hour dividing our Holy Communion it was nice to share it with Mom. She’s the reason that dad worships every Sunday, and her and our Dad’s combined example is the reason we continue to do so, too, even if it’s over that Arkansas River Bridge and deep in to Delano, and there’s no doubting that Mom’s mother was mostly responsible for that. The subject of the sermon was honor they Father and Mother, and given our family history that seems wise counsel on almost any old weekend, and we took it to heart
Dad wasn’t there because he’s recently had some pretty serious spinal surgery, which also involved a neurosurgeon, which worried us plenty, Dad being such a great guy, but he seemed in high spirits when we and Mom joined him apres church, and very much abreast of the latest developments in that Trump and Russia thing, when we met him for a lunch in the health care unit of his very nice retirement home. The lunch wasn’t bad, by semi-hospital standards, and he was in such a good mood that he encouraged us to take Mom out for an afternoon of Wichita culture. Mom had already introduced us to the local arts and music and all the test of the surprisingly rich culture rich traditions of Wichita, Kansas, so it was a delight to drive her over in her fancy care to the WAM’s annual art and book fair. There was a nice collection of pieces from the permanent collection chosen by some of our fine local artists, that internationally iconict and perfect-for-Mother’s-Dy painting by Mary Casatt of a mother and infant child, and we also had a chance to introduce our Mom to a couple of very idiosyncratically Wichita women of our more secular acquaintance.
Before we headed home we warned our Dad that the whole Russian thing with Trump and Russia seems to be closing in on Trump, based on the foreign and and non-cable news we follow, even though we share his hope that it’s all fake news. No matter how that turns out, it was a a great day with Mom and we’ll give thanks next Sunday over on West Douglas.

— Bud Norman

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