Today, in 1922, my mother, Jo Seay, was born.

She left so long ago, in 1986 at age 64, it’s hard to think of her as 93, but that’s how old she would have been today.

I always get a little melancholy – not a hard thing for me to do – when this time of year rolls around, just thinking of her, since it was both the time of year in which she was born and the time of year in which she died.

My mother was so spectacular. She and I disagreed about almost everything – politics and religion being the big ones – but I loved her fiercely and was proud of her beauty and her brilliance, her wicked sense of humor, and her laugh that could (and did!) clear a movie theater (YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN.) Besides, no mother on our block could smack a baseball like my Mom.

So, Happy Birthday, Mother! I still miss you every day. Every. Single. Day. I’m not expecting that to change. JS