Erma Bombeck Writing Competition - Winners
2007
Erma Bombeck Writing Competition
Honorable Mention
Human Interest - Global
Dianna Graveman
St. Charles, Missouri
"Badge of Honor"
| "Mom's not here," Dad says when I call. "She's out with the 'Red Hots.'" Silence on my end. Then: "Dad, I think maybe you mean 'The Red Hats.' But I'll be happy to tell the ladies how you prefer to think of them." Dad chuckles good-naturedly at his gaffe. We are both still coming to terms with the idea of Mom as a member of the Red Hat Society. I have seen the women around town -- sporting crimson fedoras and suits of wildly wonderful purple. They're a lively bunch. But my mother? Mom is always impeccably dressed. She's never worn anything that clashes. Even when she was the assistant Brownie Girl Scout leader of my second grade troupe, her tan accessories complimented her beanie in a perfectly understated display of style and grace. Mom's fashion sense didn't come about because of a cultured upbringing or a pampered lifestyle. She quit school and took her first job when she was thirteen, fibbing about her age on the application, to help support her large family. At eighteen, she married, and Mom and Dad began forging a life for themselves. My parents had high hopes for both of their children, and when my brother, Rick, died of cancer at 24, they were heartbroken. Still, Mom and Dad stood strong and moved forward, supporting me through my early years of marriage and the raising of my children, until one winter, Mom's heart failed. Sometimes, now, Mom finds it hard to breathe. She takes a lot of medicine and has trouble maintaining a healthy weight. But Mom has never given up, never given in. "How are you doing?" I always ask when I call. "Pretty good," she always says. So Mom has joined the "Red Hats." Grandma's gang, my son teasingly calls them, because "they wear colors and they ride together." "Very funny, Steve," Mom says, giving her grandson a playful shove. I may giggle a little when I see Mom for the first time in her vermillion bonnet and clashing purple dress. But what I want to tell her is this: You've earned your red hat. You've earned the right to wear what you want and to be who you are, and to have fun doing it. You've suffered and overcome, known challenge and triumph. Wear your hat with wisdom and pride, as a badge of honor, a trophy won. And maybe someday, like the poem by Jenny Joseph that prompted the formation of the Red Hat Society says, I'll also "wear purple with a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me." But only if you promise not to laugh, Mom. |