The Creation of Mothers Day a day to show you love and care for your dear Mom.

Make
it a memorable one!

Preface / Introduction
All about the creation of Mothers Day, a day to give the reassurance your mother requires that yes,
she was and yet is a good mother. A day to show you care and to say you love her. Here also is a
story of a most memorable Mothers Day.

Table of Contents
1. And she asked me 'Was I a good mother... ?' Mothers Day, Sunday May 8, 2011.
2. My most memorable Mother's Day... a tenacious memory that tugs at my heart and may touch
yours.

The Creation of Mothers Day a day to show you love and care for your dear Mom. Make it a memorable one!

And she asked me 'Was I a good mother... ?' Mothers Day,

Sunday May 8, 2011.
by Dr. Jeffrey Lant
Today is Mother's Day in the United States. It occurred just the other day in England... and will
occur around the globe at various times all year long as millions of people make a point of honoring
mother and making this day special for her. Those of us whose mother has passed on will take time
this day for remembrance... turning this into a day of bittersweet joy and sorrow. There will be
tears... but there will be smiles, too, as we recall every aspect of Mom with all the memories we
cherish so. Yes, there most assuredly will be smiles, too... for Mom, even if gone, still has the power
to lighten our lives and soothe us, just as she did so often once upon a time...
Anna Jarvis and the creation of Mother's Day, 1914.
There have, of course, been mothers' days as long as there have been mothers. Kind-hearted fathers
and grateful children undoubtedly saw to that... but one woman wanted more for mothers than a
casual, occasional compliment. Her name was Anna Jarvis and she is the reason you are dropping by
your mom's today, your arms full of spring flowers and a myriad of affectionate tokens.
Anna Jarvis was born May 1, 1864 in Webster, Taylor County, West Virginia. She was the ninth of
eleven children born to Ann Marie and Granville Jarvis. From childhood Anna idolized her mother,
and she often heard her say that she hoped someone one day would establish a memorial for all
mothers, living and dead.
Anna always recalled one particular incident that drove home her mother's unceasing message. This
incident occurred during a class prayer given by Mrs. Jarvis in Anna's receptive presence. Mrs.
Jarvis' lesson was on "Mothers of the Bible". She closed the lesson with the prayer "I hope that
someone, sometime will found a memorial mothers day commemorating her for the matchless
service she renders to humanity in every field of life. She is entitled to it."
Anna was just 12 years old... and not only did she never forget; she dedicated her life to achieving
her mother's desire. We can now see the contours of this story. Mrs. Jarvis, kept perpetually
pregnant, laboring under a mountain of never- ending work, with a husband who never understood
all she did and how much he relied upon her... and a daughter completely receptive to her mother's
urgent plea for recognition, assistance, and above all else -- love. Mrs. Ann Marie Jarvis poured it all
into her daughter's dutiful ears... and whatever her resentments, disappointments and moments of
chagrin... here at least she was abundantly rewarded. Her darling Anna saw to that...
After her mother's death on May 9, 1905, Anna, now living with siblings Claude and Lillie, began
her life's work, to create a day that would fulfill her mother's fervid desire. Fueled by love and the
image of her overworked, under loved (but never by Anna) mother... Anna put her active pen to
paper, determined to achieve her goal of establishing a nationwide observance of Mother's Day.
Nothing was going to stop her, and so from love came the focused, unceasing activity that moves
mountains. She bombarded hundreds of legislators, executives, and businessmen on both state and
national levels.
Everyone was polite, muttering general words of support... but, despite her efforts and her skills as a
notable and motivating speaker, Anna Jarvis was making no progress. Then one of the greatest
marketers in history, John Wanamaker, merchant prince, entrepreneur, philanthropist heard Anna
and saw at once that her idea was good for Wanmaker's, good for business, good for America, and
good for mothers everywhere. It was a win-win situation all round...

http://www.20WaystoProfit.com

Copyright Patrice Porter - 2014

4 of 9

The Creation of Mothers Day a day to show you love and care for your dear Mom. Make it a memorable one!

With the inventive genius, power, influence and energy of John Wanamaker (1838-1922) behind
her, Anna Jarvis and her idea moved onwards and upwards at incredible speed. On May 10, 1908
15,000 folks eager to Honor Thy Mother showed up at Wanamaker's Store Auditorium in
Philadelphia to hear Anna Jarvis speak. 10,000 of them had to be turned away for lack of room... It
was a magnificent event... thereafter success followed success, Wanamaker saw to that; he was a
dynamo of a man, success his birthright.
By 1909, 45 states, Puerto Rico, Hawaii, Canada and Mexico observed Mother's Day. People by the
millions wore the white and red carnations the movement had adopted as a visible means of showing
that the wearer loved Mother and supported the cause. President Wilson proclaimed the first
national Mother's Day in 1914. Everyone was happy now; a great goal had been achieved...
everyone, that is, but Anna Jarvis.
Every time a florist sold a bouquet... every time a husband hard-pressed for time and with worries of
his own bought a card... every time anyone made a buck off her Mother's Day, Anna Jarvis winced.
And so as the number of participants grew into the millions, Jarvis who should have been the
happiest of all became the most miserable. This isn't at all what she had in mind for mothers... or the
memory of her mother.
So began the sad decline of Anna Jarvis, the woman who now proceeded to burn every bridge and
sunder her intimate connection to Mother's Day until with the death of her sister, she was entirely
alone... having nothing but memories and the assurance of her mother's love. And so she went on,
bitter, alone, forgotten, neglected until at last she died, November 24, 1948, her mother's zealous
defender until the end...
... but too much so. I like to think that Anna's mother would have been glad for the card (even if
store-bought), for the flowers (even if not picked from your own garden), and the candy you didn't
have time or talent to make... because each is a token of a love which cannot be celebrated too
often... the love of mother. And so if your mother is alive today, do something, anything, indicating
you care.
And as you are lavishing these gifts on your one and only mother, give a thought to Anna Jarvis and
her troubled spirit. She is the reason you have the happy task of turning this otherwise ordinary day
into the reassurance your mother requires that yes, resoundingly yes, she was and yet is a good
mother, the best of all whatever her faults or limitations. All she really needs is to hear you say so....

http://www.20WaystoProfit.com

Copyright Patrice Porter - 2014

5 of 9

The Creation of Mothers Day a day to show you love and care for your dear Mom. Make it a memorable one!

My most memorable Mother's Day... a tenacious memory that

tugs at my heart and may touch yours.
by Dr. Jeffrey Lant
Author's program note. My mother is dead now. But I want you to know that hardly a day goes by
when I don't think of her... not in some idealized fashion either. For she was a vibrant, beautiful
creature whose reality, for me, even if flawed, was more compelling than any fairy tale I might make
up. And as for charm, why she was a by-word for that; I knew that before I even knew what charm
could lead to. Some say that along with her penetrating eyes I inherited my full measure of that
charm too. I leave that to you to find out.
This article is being written because it gives me the perfect opportunity to remember her... not just
vaguely... but as she was and remains in my mind's eye, a real woman, my much loved and often
argued with mother. Here I am able to indulge myself in the most profound memories, certain that I
am writing this article for you... not just for myself. And because the woman is important and the
day I am recalling here one of the handful of truly special days of her life (so she often told me
afterwards), I savor every word as I think it, write it, consider it, review it -- and if not perfect and
exactly so, change it. For there is not a word here or even a comma that I can accept in any other
way. For you see, this was one of the handful of truly special days of my life... and I want you to
share it and know why.
Thomas Gray, treasured poet.
Where did my mother's love affair with England and her poets begin? I cannot say, but I can recall
that wherever we lived its premises were littered with the lyric beauty of the English language...
where words mattered, where understanding them mattered, where using them to maximum effect
mattered, and where a word was never an obstacle but a friend not yet known well enough, but
welcome for all that. As such, books, rarely closed, always open with makeshift book marks were
found in every room. We read as effortlessly as we breathed... and the splendor of language
surrounded us, shaped us, sustained us... and no one more than my mother for whom poets were
accounted special beings well deserving of the veneration they received from her... and in due
course from me. And so the profound love between a mother and her first-born son was made
manifest in the poems we discovered and shared, the readings of such poems to each other, and the
meanings we strove to find... especially for me when she was gone before. Then these bonds
mattered most of all.
Thomas Gray, 26 December 1716 - 30 July 1771, just 54 years old.
Thomas Gray was born in Cornhill, London, the son of an exchange broker and a milliner. He was
the fifth of 12 children... 11 of whom died in infancy. he smell of death permeated his young world...
a constant visitor to his home, a constant reality where birth and mourning seemed inextricably
linked and inevitable. And so he grew up wondering whether his own expected demise was nigh,
accelerated by his abusive father. This recurring thought shaped his life, his outlook, and his poems.
Later in life Gray became known as one of the "Graveyard poets" of the late 18th century, along with
Oliver Goldsmith, William Cowper, and Christopher Smart. But for Gray this was not a pose; he had
been to the graveyard too often too early for that. Death and Gray were on intimate terms from the
start.
His sense of humor.
For all that Gray's life was turbulent and difficult, it had moments of unalloyed joy, not least because
he had the valued knack of seeing the humorous side of even the most oppressive subjects. It is good
http://www.20WaystoProfit.com

Copyright Patrice Porter - 2014

6 of 9

The Creation of Mothers Day a day to show you love and care for your dear Mom. Make it a memorable one!

to see he skewered the masters of Peterhouse at Cambridge University as "mad with Pride" and the
Fellows of this College as "sleepy, drunken, dull, illiterate Things." It was the kind of thing I wrote
to my college friends, too, and I knew the joy of such characterizations.
My mother knew I wrote these kinds of acid word pictures; I sent them to her, and she carefully tied
them with ribbons adding her own often equally acid responses. These, too, bonded us; we laughed
together. Too, there were other traits which may have made her see me in Gray: he spent his time
indoors, voracious reader, avoiding athletics and exercise of any kind. But when the companionship
of his friends was offered, he was a crowd pleaser with the apt, devastating mot at the ready. Gray
and I might have been siblings; surely Kindred Spirits... she must have seen this... and if so have
approved.
"Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard".
Thus, my mother traveled to England where I was then working on my first book and asked me to
accompany her to the setting of one of her favorite poems, the "Elegy" written slowly, painstakingly
between 1742 and 1750. She had waited a lifetime for this excursion... and so she and I on Mother's
Day went hand-in-hand to the ancient village of Stoke Poges, to the churchyard of the Church of
England parish church of St. Giles. There great Gray's remains repose for the numberless ages, his
monument weathered, tilted, too much too illegible, special torment for this man of perfect wording.
We had come hence to see, to learn, to venerate.... and in the graveyard to read the "Elegy", together,
in turn, lyrically, each word a pledge to love each other now and forever, though I didn't know its
purpose then.
She had her tattered, well thumbed Gray in hand, so did I.
So we commenced the reading, the first stanza hers by right to intone:
"The curfew tolls the knell of parting day/ The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea/ The ploughman
homeward plods his weary way/ And leaves the world to darkness and to me."
We are borne on these words to the place we most want to be with the person in this sublime
moment we both wish most to be with.
Thus we walked and read together from the celebrated words which British General James Wolfe
read to his officers September 12, 1759 the day before he was killed in battle, saying "Gentlemen, I
would rather have written that poem than take Quebec tomorrow." It was an admission made by
thousands of those who have thrilled to these sonorous words and their eternal relevance to
struggling mankind.
'Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife"
Now my mother has gone the way of all flesh, the way we all must trod in time. We know such an
end is natural but that does not assuage the bitter grief and finality of the matter, particularly when
the dear departed is one's mother. This loss is bitter indeed at whatever age it occurs.
Thomas Gray knew all this and in his beloved "Elegy", popular from the moment of publication,
popular still, he gave us all the words we need to cope, find hope and resignation -- and the words of
remembrance and above all of love.
Thus whenever I miss her and want her near me in all her humanity and that dazzling smile I can
never forget, I take down from the clutter of my library her copy of Gray's "Elegy" and read it aloud,
as we did that memorable Mother's Day so very long ago. Whenever possible I go to any search
engine and play Domenico Scarlatti's Sonata in D minor (published 1738). It was one of Gray's
favorites and perfect accompaniment to his surgically precise words.
http://www.20WaystoProfit.com

Copyright Patrice Porter - 2014

7 of 9

The Creation of Mothers Day a day to show you love and care for your dear Mom. Make it a memorable one!

"The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power/ And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave/ Awaits
alike the inevitable hour/ The paths of glory lead but to the grave."
But not, with God's help and with Thomas Gray's, to the dark void of forgetfulness and oblivion.
They have given us the joys of memory and the words we need to summon it --and our loved ones -at will and thus they live again in us.

http://www.20WaystoProfit.com

Copyright Patrice Porter - 2014

8 of 9

The Creation of Mothers Day a day to show you love and care for your dear Mom. Make it a memorable one!

Resource
About the Author Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide
range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Dr. Lant is also the author of 18
best-selling business books.
Republished with author's permission by Patrice Porter http://20WaystoProfit.com.

http://www.20WaystoProfit.com

Copyright Patrice Porter - 2014

9 of 9