According to Hofmann: Complimenting Strangers: a mother’s guide to world peace
As a kid, you always wanted to treat your parents equally. If my brother and I made my mom breakfast in bed on Mothers Day, we had to do the same for my dad on Fathers Day. When we begged one parent for a pet snapping turtle, we had to beg to the other one, too. It鈥檚 that balance of annoyance that keeps a family strong.
Following the death of my father three years ago, I dedicated a column to him. So, with my mom passing away two weeks ago, I wanted to do the same for her. However, I couldn鈥檛 find a column on standby that I could use, so I decided to rework my eulogy to her into a column. She would have loved it; she always wanted me to write an entire column about her, which she said would just be an ode of 鈥渉ow beautiful your mother is; that鈥檚 why they call me Linda Beautifina鈥� as well as her humbleness. But she had a great sense of humor, and that鈥檚 only one small part of what made her great. Love you and miss you always, mom.
Those who knew my mom can all agree the world is sadder without her in it.
She was kind, she laughed all the time, she was a great person to be around and she sang all the time. She always sang whenever there was music playing. She also sang when there wasn鈥檛 music playing 鈥� she even sang when nobody asked her to or wanted her to. She didn鈥檛 care because she loved to do it and had a great voice to back it up.
Something she also loved to do was compliment my wife and my sister in-law all the time, which made them adore their mother in-law even more and made my brother and me look bad for not complimenting them all the time. Maybe I should buy my wife some flowers.
Anyway, my mom would even compliment total strangers whenever we were in public 鈥� often seeking them out and stopping them just to tell them how much she liked their hair or clothes or would tell them a story or two or five about her grandchildren and her dog.
Sometimes it backfired.
Nearly three years ago, I took my mom on one of her many late-night trips to the emergency room at a local hospital for kidney stone pain.
We were in an exam room, waiting for test results. We also had no choice but to listen to a female patient in the room across the hall from us.
We heard as she was crying, fighting with the staff, screaming, refusing to have her stomach pumped, threatening to sue everyone for trying to treat her, signing herself out against medical advice and loudly coughing up something my imagination didn鈥檛 want to entertain.
My mom was discharged a few hours later, and we went outside in front of the hospital.
I told her to wait there so I could bring the car around for her.
Not even a minute goes by, and as I鈥檓 driving toward her, I see my mom standing there, of course, talking to a total stranger. As I stepped out of the car, I heard the voice, and I realized she was talking to that patient from across the hall.
I parked the car and walked to my mother, who said, 鈥淢ark, this girl needs to use your phone so someone can pick her up.鈥�
After getting my mom in the car, I spent the next half hour waiting while the woman called everyone she knew (and I think people she didn鈥檛 know) to beg and argue for a ride. She even took time to chit-chat and catch up on old times 鈥� all the while coughing God knows what onto my phone鈥檚 screen, which I thoroughly disinfected as soon as we returned home.
When I finally broke away from the woman and went back to the car, my mom said, 鈥淚鈥檓 glad you鈥檙e back. I was ready to call the police.鈥�
All I could say was, 鈥淢om, this is why you shouldn鈥檛 talk to strangers.鈥�
But she didn鈥檛 listen because that鈥檚 who she was, and she always did it. Strangely enough, I鈥檓 also glad she did.
Nearly 30 years ago, we were camping in Maine, and I went to the camp鈥檚 shower while she waited for me outside. I walked out later to see her sitting at a picnic table, talking to two strangers. I rolled my eyes because, of course, she鈥檚 talking to strangers again.
When I approached the table, she looked at me and said with a smile, 鈥淢ark, do you know who these people are neighbors with? They鈥檙e neighbors with Stephen King.鈥�
I was just becoming a huge Stephen King fan, and they told us stories about him, they gave us his address, and we drove by his house, took photos 鈥� basically stalked him. With the address the neighbors provided, I even mailed him a book that he returned autographed 鈥� along with a restraining order.
Anyway, that never would have happened if my mother didn鈥檛 decide to talk to those strangers at a campsite picnic table.
So, beyond reflecting on all that made her great, I think, going forward, it鈥檚 best to take those things that people loved about my mom and apply it to our lives.
I鈥檓 not suggesting we become just like her because there鈥檚 only one Linda 鈥淏eautifina鈥� Hofmann for all time.
But I am suggesting maybe sing a little bit with or without music, compliment people a little more and break the ice and talk to random people 鈥� just maybe think twice about doing it outside of a hospital ER at 2 a.m., but you get my drift.
Even if you never met her, I think if you just allow some time for the joy she held to flow through you, you can at least make the world a little happier.
According to Hofmann is written by staff reporter Mark Hofmann of Rostraver Township. His books, 鈥淕ood Mourning! A Guide to Biting the Big One 鈥� and Dying, Too鈥� and 鈥淪tupid Brain,鈥� are available on Amazon.com.