By Thomas Sellers Jr.
A selfie is always good if you’re able to take one with your mother.
Is Mother’s Day canceled this year?
There was no Kentucky Derby, Masters or NCAA Tournament in 2020. And the holidays of St. Patrick’s Day and Easter passed with little fanfare. So I’m asking the question seriously.
With most boutiques, salons and retail stores still closed or having modified practices, it is harder to get a traditional Mother’s Day gift for that special woman.
According to Forbes the holiday is still on and will be bigger than ever. This might be the holiday we need to give a boost to the economy.
According to the National Retail Federation, the average person spends almost $180 each spring to celebrate their mom. And this year is on track to be bigger than ever with an estimated $25 billion breaking down to $196 per mother.
I’m blessed to still have my mom, Alma Marie, around. Officially becoming a mother on Dec. 16, 1978, she got some practice growing up in Fayette County with five siblings, a series of younger cousins and even her auntie Willie Jo.
Then came my sister, Latanglia, and me almost three years later. The additions of my brothers, Cordarous and Carlos, made the total four children for my mom.
And through the past 42 years, my mom has still been a mother figure to those who proceeded us and those who came through her many ventures of life.
The world-class groomer is called Ms. Marie. At the Church of Christ at Ridgegrove she is Sister Sellers. And others have dared to call her Ma. But when you have a wonderful mother like I do, you are going to have to share.
Despite her being spread thin and called upon by so many, my mom has always been there when I needed her over the years.
So for Mother’s Day 2020, the perfect vision of a mom is getting her top 10 moments with her oldest son.
My co-signer
My mom has always preached the importance of good credit. She has always paid her bills on time. And that paid off for me twice in the past 10 years. Back in 2009, I got my nice car, a Mercury Montego. Right by my side at the Ford dealership was my mom to co-sign with no hesitation.
“I know you will take care of your responsibilities, baby.”
And I kept my word to my mom, but with three payments left on the car the transmission died. Here we go again back to the dealership.
There was my Lincoln MKZ. “Get what you want baby, you’re going to pay for it.”
To our shock, I still needed a co-signer. Without blinking an eye, my mom was sitting at the car salesman’s desk, ready to sign.
Last year I paid off the vehicle and of course I shared the moment with Mom. I interrupted her water aerobics class at the Millington YMCA to just say, “Ma, we did it. We paid it off.”
Her response, “No baby, you did it like I knew you would.”
Second to none
Back in eighth grade, the rite of passage finally struck our home. I had to do a science project. My decision was to see if cacti grow primarily because of light or does water have a larger impact than believed.
The only other person just excited as me for my hypothesis was my of course my mom. She was really intrigued to see what the outcome would be.
We hopped in her car and raced to get the materials: Four lamps, four different light bulbs, measuring cup, soil, pots and of course the cacti. Of course with my having no job, this came out of her pocket.
For the next six weeks, we filed the information on the growth. Oh yes, it was a team effort. I would catch my mom at our growing station with the ruler, measuring each cactus.
Months later I took home second prize for the project. My science teacher was impressed by the data and how well the project was executed. We learned that light was a solid source of helping a cactus grow but water helps it grow faster.
Tears of pride
That second-place ribbon was going to be presented to me at the 1995 Raleigh-Egypt Middle School Awards Banquet. As a recipient, I got a free meal ticket. But guests had to purchase a $5 ticket in order to eat.
Upon arrival, my mom surveyed the scene and saw barbecue was on the menu. She gave me a task. With our family struggling at the moment because she was out of work, my mom calmly asked me to take my ticket to the buffet line and load up a plate to feed both parents, my two brothers and auntie.
As a 13-year-old child, I was not going to embarrass myself in such fashion. “No, Ma, I’m not doing that.”
“Oh, you ain’t going to do it. OK, I’ll do it and you better not touch one piece of food on that plate.”
I was cool with that because I came to rack up awards that night.
To my amazement, my mom built a barbecue sandwich pyramid on that one plate. She made my free ticket stretch. Of course loved ones had two sandwiches each, and I had nothing.
As the ceremony proceeded, the name Thomas Sellers was called the most that night. I won a couple of awards I didn’t even know about.
My last award made the gathering stand and applaud. One person said, “Him again?” As I was coming back to the table in the midst of a standing ovation, my mom was crying.
My dad said to my mom, “Just a minute ago you wanted to kill him. Look at you now.”
“I still can’t stand his big head,” was her reply, smiling through her tears.
Arm of love — car wreck
The reason why 1995 was a tough financial year for my family was the January car wreck. My mom is an artist with scissors and her clippers. She makes dogs look like hairy sculptures. But her God-given talent was in jeopardy after the accident.
To keep us from being T-boned, my mom had quickly turned to avoid a direct hit from the teenage driver. At the same time, she reached her arm across the passenger seat and held me back. Instead of going through the windshield, my big head on smacked it, leaving a bruise.
In the process, my mom’s arm had serious nerve damage. She sacrificed a body for me. Over time I realized she sacrificed her talent for me.
Thank God she recovered and is back to grooming to still provide for us.
My whole sweet potato pie
The best food item in the world is my mom’s sweet potato pie. Before Thanksgiving 1991, my dad gave me the chore of cleaning up the leaves in our massive yard. I had to make sure things looked good before guests arrived for the holiday.
Before we had a push lawnmower with a catcher on the back, my only tools were a rake, Hefty bags and my body. My 10-year-old limbs were sore after gathering 40 bags of leaves.
Watching the whole time from the kitchen window was my mom. As she cooked up a storm, I made sure our yard shone like an emerald jewel.
With the job done, I crawled into the house and collapsed on the couch. “I know what will give you some energy … here you go, baby.”
To my surprise, my mom was handing me an entire sweet potato pie. The dessert was gone within 5 minutes.
Labor of love
I was born on Labor Day 1981. So whenever my birthday falls on a Monday, it is a national holiday. Back in 1998 that was the case. And to kick off my senior year at Raleigh-Egypt, my mom told me to invite my entire class.
Only my best friends showed up to the gathering that day. It was a day for our group of friends known as the Dawg Clique. We played basketball and video games, listened to music and told jokes.
Meanwhile, my mother was on the grill, making a German chocolate cake, cooking the side dishes and refereeing a house full of teenage boys.
Once again, I had no job. So who paid for all of that food and fun?
Summer for Sel
When I was a sophomore, my mom told me, “You won’t work while you’re in high school. You’ll have the rest of your life to work. I will take care of those things.”
So I tried to limit my school needs and requests. But my best friends Lisa Gwyn, Eric Forte’, Rosheay Ragland and Danny Spears talked me into going on the senior trip to Italy and France.
In a passing conversation, I mentioned it to my mom.
Weeks later my mom is up at the school talking to our Club International sponsor, Mrs. Hollenbach. I thought I was in trouble. Instead, my mom was finding out financial aid for the trip.
My mom left the school with boxes of candy to sell. Still recovering from her injury, my mom took a job at a cleaners in Bartlett.
She hustled those boxes of M&M’s for weeks and sold several boxes to still be a few hundred short. Mrs. Hollenbach gave a couple of students a chance to make up the difference by writing an essay.
My topic was my mom’s dedication to give me something she never had. She wanted the trip more for me than I did.
As of 2020, I’m still the only member of my household to do some international travel. And my mom brags on it like she took the nine day tour.
Magic moment
A few years back our church took a trip to Magic Springs in Arkansas. With me being too old and scared to ride roller coasters, my entertainment was playing games along the park. Meanwhile, my mom was making new friends with three women at a table. They spent hours chatting about their lives and families.
During that process, I was busy winning sports logo basketballs by hitting free throws. I won so many I decided to start sharing them with church members.
But I saved four basketball for myself. With my hands full, I thought since my mom is not moving, I’ll get her to keep them at the table.
“This is your son the journalist?” one woman said as I approached.
“Yes this is him.”
I spoke and looked to race off to my next venture. My mom stopped me and asked where did these basketballs come from. As I explained, she said, “Why is a baseball team on a basketball? That’s a college team and that’s football? Why are they all on basketballs?”
I stood there in shock. My mom hates sports and pays it no attention.
But there she was rolling off fact after fact about the logos, the team’s name and even some championships.
With my face in awe, my mom said, “I pay attention, baby, even when you don’t think I am.”
Gown act
Mother’s Day 2003 was special. My gift to my mom was graduating from The University of Memphis.
Prior to the ceremony and heading down to the Pyramid, I got dressed with my cap and then it was time for the gown.
Nonchalantly I walked down to the den. My mom was having a conversation with my aunt Geraldine. As I zipped up my gown, a weird silence came over the room. I looked up completing my zip and saw my mom bawling. Tears just raced down her face and she trembled, barely getting out the words, “My baby did it.”
My Shero
There is one moment that summarizes my mom’s love, timing, care, sacrifice and greatness. After seven years at Delano Optional School, it was my last day. It was almost time to get ready for the seventh grade. But first was the final day in elementary school with a free pizza party.
Mr. Cockrell’s class was the champions of Field Day 1993, earning the prize of a pizza party at the expense of the school.
That morning we got word that we would only be receiving four boxes of pizza. With about 20 children in the class, that was barely one slice a student.
As we helped clean the classroom, my classmate Tony headed down to the office to grab some supplies. Something told me to call my mom. I shared with her the news of our limited supply of food.
She was upset and verbalized it loud enough that Tony was cheering her on over my shoulder.
After I hung up the office phone, I thought no more about it.
By noon, the Pizza Hut delivery shows up with our four pizzas. It was a classroom full of melancholy children.
Then Tony shouted, “Thomas, come here! I think that’s your mom.”
I raced to the window and looked down from the second floor. It was my mom.
“Come down here and help me get this up there.”
Mr. Cockrell gave four of us permission to get the eight pizzas, four bags of large chips and four two-liter sodas.
“These babies’ last day in elementary and you do some mess like that. Not on my watch,” were the words my mom murmured as we took the food upstairs.
There was a line of hugs greeting my mom as she entered the classroom. Mr. Cockrell thanked her for thinking about his children. I was the final hug that day. “I love you, Mom.”
She just hugged me tight, and for one day I was the coolest kid in the class.
THOMAS SELLERS JR. is the editor of The Millington Star and both the sports editor and a weekly personal columnist for West 10 Media/Magic Valley Publishing. Contact him by phone at (901) 433-9138, by fax to (901) 529-7687 and by email to [email protected].
