Editor�s Note

I try whenever possible to avoid being sentimental when I write this column. I don�t always succeed, but I do my best. Even when I�m writing about things like my dad�s messy garage, my dead cat or growing up in a dusty little town in the middle of nowhere, I try to make the stories as factual � and hopefully amusing � as I possibly can.

The problem with writing about events from my past is that it�s surprisingly easy to let myself look back more fondly than I should.

What ends up happening if I let myself become sentimental is that I write about my dad�s garage and conveniently forget the frequent arguments that my parents had about just how messy it was. I gloss over the fact that my dead cat really was a psychotic little monster who was just as likely to attack and draw blood as she was to curl up for a snuggle. I ignore how miserable I was stuck in that dusty little town in the middle of nowhere, constantly dreaming of the day when I could get out of there and never look back.

In general, I think that I�ve been able to write about stuff like that and not make it sound better than it was. There are times, however, when it�s almost impossible to avoid the trap of sentimentality.

It�s hard not to be sentimental about Christmas and Thanksgiving because those holidays really were great for me and my family. It�s also hard for me not to think fondly of Halloween. Oddly enough, hoards of tormented spirits, ravenous zombies and screeching witches also remind me of my family.

But the holiday that I�m most likely to slide down the slippery slope of sentimentality for � and alliteration, apparently � is Mother�s Day.

I don�t think that I could write anything about moms in general, or my mom in particular, without getting all mushy, nostalgic and, yes, sentimental � so I won�t.

This Mother�s Day, be as sentimental as you want and remember your mom. Take her out to dinner, buy her a card or just do something nice for her. She deserves it.

And Mom, thanks for the whole carrying-me-around-in-your-body-for-nine-months thing. Sorry I drove you so crazy so many times � I�m sure that half of those grey hairs are because of me. And thanks for all of those great Christmases and Thanksgivings. There�s nobody I�d have rather have been stuck in a dusty little town in the middle of nowhere with.

Happy Mother�s Day.

Sean Vale
Editor
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