My Mother’s Timeless Wisdom
My Non-conformist Future
June 4, 2023
Think Like a Farmer
August 5, 2023
My late mother, Donna Anderson Faaborg Moravec, left us over 20 years ago. She was a fun, beloved woman who many of our friends also referred to as “Mom.”
She was also supportive, approachable, and tolerant, and she had timeless wisdom. Although she was protective, she encouraged us to learn by experiencing – even if the outcome was failure or some other painful lesson.
When I was in high school, Mom never set a curfew time for me. All she said was, “I won’t stop worrying about you until you get home.”
Gulp. Apparently, she recognized that I required structure and loved schedules, plus I hated the thought of being a burden to anyone.
So how did I address my dilemma? I simply brought parties with high school friends home with me, which went over surprisingly well. Talk about a win-win!
Those of you who know me know I love a good in-depth conversation. Mom was not great at those types of conversations, so the half-dozen or so times I attempted to go deep with her, she masterfully deflected my questions. She had experienced several traumatic events she simply did not care to talk about.
Like the sudden death of her first husband, Carl, my three siblings’ father. I shared the full story in The Unlikely Gift of Breast Cancer, but Mom was never able to answer my questions about what it was like for her to raise three children under the age of five on a music teacher’s salary in 1962.
“I honestly don’t remember,” she would always respond. “I didn’t have time to grieve, but I did what I had to do for all of us to survive.”
Although Mom was not one to get philosophical, she often reminded me of her most favorite piece of timeless wisdom—something she learned from her own mother:
Oh, but I have failed my mother’s advice. Not because I enjoy putting others down. Rather, because I have reached middle age and survived menopause. And, thankfully, I have managed to heal forward from the dysfunction of corporate America.
I now speak my mind and no longer confuse “nice” with “honest.”
Thanks, Mom.
