Mum’s the Word

Moms and daughters are a subject I’ve written about often over the space of my 17 published novels. In my Callahan Garrity novels, which I wrote under my real name, which is Kathy Hogan Trocheck, Callahan lived with her mom, Edna Mae, who was named after my own grandmother, Edna May Rivers Waymire, and modeled after my own mom, who was, like Edna, a chain-smoking, ice tea-drinking, solitaire-playing take-no-prisoner type. Other mothers I’ve written about bear no resemblance to my own mom. There was the closet alcoholic (and terrible cook) Marian Foley, in SAVANNAH BLUES, SAVANNAH BREEZE AND BLUE CHRISTMAS. The mom in HISSY FIT was missing in action, and the mom in DEEP DISH left annoying voicemail messages for Regina Foxton. In THE FIXER UPPER, I created Dempsey Killebrew’s mom, Lynda, a free-spirited divorcee who makes jewelry from roadside detritus and insists that all of Dempsey’s problems could be solved with some highlights and a new pair of shoes.

My Mom, styling my hair on my wedding day

I love to write about mother-daughter relationships, both the good and the bad. I was blessed to have a wonderful relationship with my own mother, the late, great, Sue Waymire Hogan, who was larger-than-life. We were different in so many ways, but alike in the ways that count. If I’ve been successful at all as a wife, mother, and now, grandmother, it’s probably because of her influence. (And my Dad’s, but that’s a subject for Father’s Day). Mom believed I could do absolutely anything. No hare-brained nutty idea I had about my future as a writer was too far-fetched for her. She loved to give advice–to anybody who would listen. Some of her best advice over the years? Never order tuna salad in a hamburger joint. Always make a friend, if you have the chance. Never date a man who chases or hits. What’s the best advice your mom ever gave you?

Mom, fixing Katie’s hair

Speaking as a mother, and now a grandmother, I feel that I can write with some authority about what mothers DON’T WANT for Mother’s Day. Recently, for instance, Mr. Mary Kay passed along a helpful email ad from an outfit called Golfsmith, that was suggesting any mother would be dee-lighted with a Mother’s Day gift of monogrammed golf balls. Er, no. Hay-yull no! Ditto the idea of giving Mom a new vacuum cleaner, Crockpot or steam iron. Unless, of course, the mother in your life has been dropping major hints that her heart’s desire actually is a new Lady Maytag, or whatever.In that case, you might want to ask yourself why your mother still views herself as a household drone. Just sayin’…

If you are blessed enough to still have a mother or grandmother (or dear aunt or mom stand-in) I hope you’ll find something wonderful and thoughtful as a gift–including the gift of time. Failing that, what about a book? Hmm. Maybe a book by….wait on it…Mary Kay Andrews? Being the thoughtful Mom I am, I’d like to help out my readers by offering signed bookplates for all my fans. If you’d like to give an autographed copy of one of my books to your mother, daughter, or any other special woman in your life this Mother’s Day, send an e-nail to [email protected], with MOTHER’S DAY BOOKPLATES in the subject line. In your message tell us the quantity you’d like to receive–(limit 5 per person) and the snail mail address where the bookplates should be mailed. The postage is my treat. Requests must be received by midnight, Sunday, May 2 so we can get them in the mail to you in time to turn your old favorite–or newly purchased MKA novel into signed copies.

1 thought on “Mum’s the Word”

  1. I love the mother/daughter relationships you write about under both names. They've made me think about my relationship with my own mother and tweak the things that needed tweaking. I'm blessed to still have her. At 78, she is still the quintessential Southern Belle who drinks ice tea and takes no prisoners. I truly believe that if "the big one" hit, whatever that is in Tennessee, she'd simply straighten her hat and tug her gloves on a little more firmly and walk away in her heels. I just hope I'm that classy (sans gloves and heels!) when I'm that age.

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