Nick McQueen

Commentary

Today is a day we celebrate the most beloved women in the universe. But, for whatever reason, it always takes me back to a day that I would rather forget.

That is, had it not been for Mom.

To paint a rather painful picture, I was around 10-years old and playing basketball in the old high school gym at Montezuma-South Gray High School (my alma-mater and home of the 2007-08 boys' and girls' Class 1A basketball champions). Of course, then it was just Montezuma High School, but we won't stray from our primary objective.

In the old gym, the locker rooms were far beneath the concrete bleachers built above the floor. To get to the locker room or the restrooms, located at each end of the bleachers on both sides of the gym, you had to travel down a flight of stairs about seven steps in length, which meant the well was about six feet deep, which just happened to be the location of the old metal cages housing the basketballs. These metal cages would probably not pass many standards today. The quarter inch metal tubing which formed together to produce these cages certainly weren't the best-looking feature, but more importantly, they were very dangerous. At the top of the cage where the lid hinged, four metal tubes protruded upward. They were constantly the cause of ripped shorts, shirts or even a few skinned elbows.

But, the result of my 10-year old (then-skinny) frame diving for a loose ball in the corner in a game of 3-on-3, then becoming airborne down the stairs was a little more than a skinned elbow. Or, so it seemed at the time.

The scar still remains where my right knee cap landed straight on a very keen piece of metal tubing on top of the cage that left me hanging by only a shred of skin.

What seemed like an eternity to me was more like a matter of minutes for Mom to the rescue. Of course, then I felt like it was the end of all things, and I was never going to walk again, but a little disinfectant and a rather large bandage applied with the most powerful love in the world took my troubles away. Though it still hurt, I was back on the horse later that afternoon.

So sometimes, even the ugliest of memories can be polished with the right antidote (or anecdote). In this case, it's the simple acknowledgment of the true protagonist and everyone's leading lady -- mom.

They are our boo-boo fixers, broken-heart menders, taxi drivers, and often times our guidance down the right path. And, most of the time, they are our biggest supporters. So, here's you to you Mom, and everything you've done, do, and will always do.

To moms everywhere --

Happy Mother's Day!