In the back (and front, and side) of my mind I’ve been dreading Mother’s Day this year because my own mother recently passed away (two days before my birthday, no less). It has now become clear that I didn’t fully appreciate the amount of covert comfort my ma’s mere existence provided and now I keenly sense I’m working without a net and pretty much feel like the world’s oldest orphan. I’ve never been good with death and this is the one death (besides perhaps my own) that I’ve feared the most and for the longest amount of time. Luckily, this Isn’t my first square dance with the grim reaper and I know the only way to shoo away the swarm of howling gloom hornets is with some good old fashioned gratitude. I was lucky to have a generous mom who cared about people and animals & I’ve seen enough horror movies (not to mention the 1976 TV mini-series SYBIL) to know that’s not always the case and it's basically a crap-shoot what kind of parents one is designated at birth. I guess I’m saying I realize I lucked out. Now I guess I’m just worried I’m next on the conveyor belt rolling toward oblivion but it helps that I witnessed a spiritual vision of sorts upon the moment of my mother’s passing that leads me to believe that all is fine and as it should be (a story for another day).
In any case, certainly Kindertrauma would not exist without my dear ma, not because she gave birth to me but because she made the life altering decision to allow me to stay up late one night to watch SATAN’S TRIANGLE, the 1975 made for TV movie that activated the spewing fountain of primal fear in my brain that turned out to be the central part of my paranoid personality and the genesis of these pitiful pages. Then there was the time she came to pick me up at a friend’s house and got to gabbing with my pal’s mother. To keep us kids out of their hair, the moms put us in a wood paneled den with a humongous TV fully equipped with a brand new device called a cable box. There was no such thing as “On Demand “ Back then so me and my buddy watched whatever happened to be on HBO at the time and as fate would have it, it was none other than THE OMEN. Religious horror hounded me like a frightened fox back in the Satanic seventies and I missed way to many nights of sleep to count but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I don’t think I would have mentally survived a few of the things that befell me in my life it I hadn’t had that inadvertent training to overcome (or at least dodge) my fears.
I should also thank my mother for never monitoring the VHS tapes my brothers and I would rent from STAGE DOOR VIDEO (a glorified kiosk in King of Prussia Mall) in the very earliest days of the home VCR boom. It may not have been her plan but she was instrumental in making me a horror fan (An aside about the early days of VHS: It’s hard to convey what a luxury it was back then to be able to watch a movie anytime you wanted to without commercials and to be able to rewind and watch it again if it was deemed worthy. Back then, you could also take the actual VHS box home with you as well and if you were like me, you gawked at every image on it, studied the synopsis, reveled in the ominous taglines and gawked endlessly at the poster art. It was all a glorious part of the home video experience).
My mother might not have been the hugest fan of horror herself but she was the type who, when finding out the mainstream movie she meant to see with her best pal Rilene was sold out, spontaneously bought tickets for THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE 2 instead and ended up chuckling at the mayhem throughout. She was also an avid reader and kept up with the popular titles of the day which is how I was first exposed to classic works of literature like AUDREY ROSE, THE OTHER and most frightening of all, THE AMITYVILLE HORROR. How can I repay such a gift?
When me and John first started Kindertrauma my mother was supportive enough to contribute a kindertrauma herself (HERE) something so many of my “friends” would never deign to do and once when she and her friend (Miss Rilene again, natch) were on vacation and came upon something dubbed and disturbing on TV that they could not identify I was thrilled to be able to eventually solve that “Name That Trauma” for her (It turned out to be Argento’s Masters of Horror episode “Jennifer”). Obviously my mother was way more than the few anecdotes I’ve described above (she was a devout spouse, a devoted friend, a loving caregiver to many fortunate pets and sweet enough to travel cross country to celebrate John and mine’s wedding) but these are a few of the things that I feel comfortable sharing here (I mean, it’s bad enough I had to share my mom with my brothers, much less the internet). Suffice to repeat, on this day, sad as I might be, I’m also profoundly grateful and wherever she may be, I know I have an ally out there somewhere. We didn’t see eye to eye on everything (I regret every moment spent butting heads on politics, what a waste of time) but on the things that truly mattered I believe we were on the same page (even if that page was sometimes from THE AMITYVILLE HORROR). So, Happy Mother’s day, mom and thanks for all you did and didn’t do.
I'm sorry to hear about your mother. I was recently visiting my mother when she passed out in my arms as I was helping her into the bathroom. I experienced extraordinary dread and doom in those moments. My mom is OK now, but I have no illusions about the inevitable. I feel you.
Seems like your mom was someone special.
My mom's great contribution to my own Kindertrauma was probably watching Return of the Living Dead with me. She went to bed thinking it was a comedy, not realizing that it was the True Harbinger of the Impending Zombie Apocalypse. Screwed me up for a couple of years at least.
As a final note, these pages are not pitiful. KT is my browser's homepage. For the last 15 years, I've read every post (even if I don't have time to comment).
I feel you brother. My mom passed away from dementia a month ago. She's the reason i love movies so much. She let me watch Jaws and Alien when it aired on television back in the early 80s!!
Unk,
I will reiterate what I said to you years ago on your "For My Dad" post; don't fall apart, stay strong.
One of horror's functions as I see it is to act as memento mori for us all.
Despite whatever fantasy elements there may be in it, it is the only really honest genre when it comes to representing the major facet of life; death. It never bullshits about it.
That's right, both you and I will die, make no mistake about it and don't you forget it. Life owes us nothing, despite whatever we may think or feel, no matter who or what we think we are and just as it brought us into existence, it will take us out without asking if we agree to its terms or whether it is convenient for us at the moment or not. Like the lyric in "Them Bones" by Alice in Chains goes, "some say we're born into the grave".
Learning to confront and accept the fact and inevitability of death is one of the greatest insights one can achieve and frees one from worry about it. When it's my turn to go, for honors sake, I hope not to go sniveling, kicking, screaming, crying and clawing, trying to hang onto life, but to face death with equanimity, like an old friend. I really do feel that horror has been a spiritual endeavor for me in that regard.
Personally, I have no warm remembrances of nor fondness for my mother, she was the cause of the majority of the profound misery, sorrow and problems I and our family experienced (as is the case for most of us, if we remove our highly selective rose tinted eyewear and really closely examine our past). The feminine spirit is truly a dangerous thing and metaphorically cutting the umbilical cord is one of the greatest kindnesses one can do for oneself as a male, without that prerequisite, one never attains manhood.
I have no idea if she is living or dead and I'm unmoved as to whether its the one or the other. I was always much closer to my father, despite his many character flaws. I do however appreciate her for being a negative example to me and allowing me to develop an indomitable spirit and character by surmounting the hurdles she placed in front of me.
My mother wasn't a mother, simply a birth conduit and for that alone, I award no points. That being said, I appreciate women who are actual dutiful mothers and conversely males who are men and who are actual fathers, so to all of those sorts of mothers out there, happy mothers day.
Chuckles72,
Thanks for your kind words and it’s great to hear you are still enjoying this joint! I know that extraordinary dread you speak of. It’s like a whole other entity in the room. RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD is an awesome movie to have a connection/memory attached to. It’s absolutely hilarious for sure but the finality of that ending always hits me hard and leaves me stunned. It’s so great! Glad your mom is doing better!
Harrywarden69,
Sorry to hear about your loss and I know what you must be going through with this Mother’s Day so close to your mom’s passing. You really can’t ask for two better movies than JAWS and ALIEN! I’ll never forget my first viewing of either. Sounds like your mom was really cool.
Ghastly,
So glad your remember that post about my dad and thanks for the support! I totally agree with you that the horror genre is such a great source when it comes to dealings with mortality. Currently I’m probably the "going to go kicking and screaming” type but who knows, maybe years from now (if I don’t have any pets to look after) I’ll be good to go. I will say my mother was one hell of a trooper, she put up a good fight but when her quality of life deteriorated she decided to move on to the next realm and she was very matter of fact and stoic about the whole thing (at least in front of me- she was may things to many people) Hopefully when my time comes I can follow her brave example.
Unk, this is simply beautiful! I’m sorry I didn’t see it until today (the last days of school are wearing me out). Once again, I am so sorry for your loss. Nothing prepares you for the loss of a parent. Your mom raised a wonderful son with a kind heart, and I am personally thankful for her for that reason. Love you, my precious friend!
Thank you Mickster! You're the best!