Mother's Day

At Camp Canonicus with my mother

The earliest memories I have of my mother are her singing to me before bed. There are a number of songs that she sang--hymns mostly--but one was almost always in the mix, and it shaped me:


Pitcher of clear water becoming wine in a glass.

Jesus said to them, "Fill the jars with water."  And they filled them up to the brim.  He said to them, "Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward."  So they took it.  When the steward tasted the water that had become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward called the bridegroom and said to him, "Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk.  But you have kept the good wine until now."   &nb