It turns out my mother is currently living under the assumed name of “animal prints” on TikTok. I know this to be true, because yesterday when I posted this video, she was the first to respond saying “I love that striped top. I need to be wearing it.” That is so my mother.
We had a shared language. From ruffles to stripes. One developed through years of shopping malls and our own closets. Playing dress up. Fashion show. The joy flowed like well draped fabric. And I understood completely. For her to say she was “scouring the catalogs for that blouse” after seeing a recent painting, was the best compliment she could give to me.
So how could I doubt that heaven has TikTok?
I suppose believers will always believe. And I do. And if you needed any more evidence, there’s this — while typing today’s post, I checked google to make sure I was spelling “scouring” correctly — here’s the sample definition that appeared — “I scoured the mall for a blue and white shirt, but couldn’t find it anywhere.” Feel free to say hello to my mother on TikTok.
Coming out of the restaurant she told me, “I love your hair! You look so sassy and smart!” The thank yous were still tumbling from my smile when she said, “But I guess that comes from the inside, doesn’t it..” My heart was smiling too.
Now, I consider myself pretty good at giving compliments, but this was something! She took “beautiful inside and out” to a whole new level. And she seemed as happy as I was, to give it. Bravo to the lady outside Martina’s Restaurant.
My mother was the first to teach me how to give a compliment. (And just by being herself, she gave me ample reason to want to.) She also taught me how to receive it, as the gift that is given.
It’s curious, we wouldn’t do it with a regular gift, refuse a birthday present let’s say. We wouldn’t put our hands out and say No! So why do so many do it with a compliment? “Oh no, not me,” or “not this old thing,” they’ll say, while backing themselves away. When really, thank you, is all that is needed. That is the reciprocal gift.
I’m still receiving this offering in the morning mirror. (Never underestimate the power of a compliment.) And I think the bar has been raised. So I challenge myself. I challenge you. Today, let’s give the compliments freely. (Even to ourselves.) And accept them with joy — so much joy that we have to bundle it and give it away again. Would that make us sassy? I don’t know, but it would make us smart!
I complimented her on the croissants, the barista at Juniper coffee shop in San Francisco. We returned the next morning — they were that good! In this sea of people, riding this wave of Saturday morning coffee drinkers and weary tourists, I smiled when she remembered my name. I had been standing in line for over 10 minutes. She wasn’t calling anyone else out. Never underestimate the power of a compliment.
I suppose we’re always looking for our tribe. It doesn’t always happen, but I know where to look — where I will have my best chance. Sometimes it’s obvious. Book stores. We went to City Lights. The City Lights masthead says “a literary meeting place since 1953,” and this concept includes publishing books as well as selling them. I bought a book and a postcard before I saw the pin — “Open Books. Open Minds. Open Hearts.” As he handed me the bag, I said, OH, Is it too late to add this?” He said, “You can have it.” My people.
We all want to see the landmarks. The bridges. But it’s always the people I remember most. The interactions — they are the souvenirs I carry. And it goes both ways. I am not the only one watching. How will I be remembered? In this time. In this moment. How am I acting? I always catch my mistakes, but unfortunately not always before I make them. But I’m still learning. I’m still trying. Because people will remember. People do remember. So I ask you, I ask myself, Who do you want to be, when they call you out by name?
She said she liked my blouse. My heart beamed. Right there in the Walgreens in Sedona. I didn’t know this woman behind the counter. I will never see her again. It doesn’t make me a better person. I didn’t make the blouse. It wasn’t even really mine. Well, it is now, but it was my mother’s. She deserves the compliment. She picked it out. Looked in the mirror. Saw the ruffles frame her face. She added the small hook and eye where the ruffles meet so they would lay perfectly. And they did. Now they do on me.
So that’s what she gave to me, this woman at the Walgreens, a trip back to the dressing room with my mother. Getting ready for an event in my apartment. She gave to me, in my mother’s voice, “You look good too.” She gave to me the after-giggle. With just a few words, she gave me all of this.
I mention it only because we need to know it. Know how easily we can brighten a person’s day. With just the smallest of efforts, just a few tiny words, like a small hook and eye, we can bring us together, to the joyful place, where the ruffles meet.
It won’t hold any more because of it. Be more secure. Even lighten the load. I suppose it wasn’t at all necessary to add the French scarf to my French bag, but it is beautiful! It feels like a compliment — and we all know (I hope we all know) how good those feel!
My mother was probably the best at it. Giving compliments. She threw them out like Halloween candy through a screen door, never asking, “Who are you supposed to be?” She simply filled my open heart with all the sugar it craved.
I’ve mentioned it before, but it’s worth repeating (which I guess is the point of all of this — the joyful repeat). She often taught me three things with just four simple words. When getting ready together for a special event, she would walk into my room and say first, “You look good too!” We had to control our giggles as not to smear our make-up. And in that simple phrase she managed to compliment me, compliment herself (which is vital — you can’t give away what you don’t have), and give us both a reason to laugh.
So I put a scarf on my purse. I tell my friend she looks beautiful. That she smells good! The stranger in line that I like her coat. And I’m not afraid to tell the woman in the next dressing room, “You look good too!” Because the laughter must be shared. The compliments given freely! And maybe, just maybe, unlike my purse, it DOES lighten the load, just a little.
On your way up today, don’t forget to give someone a lift.
She’ll be surprised when she sees her portrait. She’s doesn’t know it, but she’s wearing one of my mom’s blouses. I think she looks pretty in it — though she would back up a little, shrug her shoulders and shake her head at such a compliment. I remember the first time I told her she looked beautiful in her ensemble and she nearly backed herself into the garage door. It’s not really the culture here, to be so fast and loose with the compliments. And I don’t want to make people uncomfortable, but I do want them to know how good it feels, these words of admiration. My mother gave them to me, and they carry me still. How could I not pass them along? So I put her in my mom’s blouse on this canvas, hoping maybe she could feel it, maybe the words would gather in the slight ruffles around her face and heart. Surely the flow of such gentle fabric would cotton to her being, and she would know that it wasn’t just a compliment, it was the gift I have of greatest value — a welcome into my family, my heart. And if she felt that, my sister-in-law, within all of my ruffled and flawed attempts, she would have to feel good, and possibly even pretty, and the discomfort would fade the next time I saw her wearing a dress fresh from the line, and I told her “You look so lovely in that color.” And maybe we’ll all be smiling, just like my mother wanted.
She said, “What a lovely coat,” as she brushed against me in the narrow airplane aisle. I completed the hug we were nearly in and thanked her with smiling words.
Because it wasn’t just about the coat. I suppose it never is. This was the last coat my mom and I bought together at Herberger’s. A time capsule of laughter and trust and love. The woman on the plane didn’t know that it was our favorite times together, trying things on, being and becoming the best of ourselves, inside and out. She didn’t know how many times the mall had saved us. Lifted us. Held us. How it still does. But with those four words in her passing compliment, she gave it all to me again. I lived it again on the plane. Again, right now.
Never underestimate the power of a compliment. With just a few words, we can give so much. Which then allows that person to give to someone else. And so it goes. On, and on… reaching further than across the aisles. Lifting higher than any sky.
Give the gift today. To a stranger. A family member. A friend. The face in the mirror. Say the words. Complete the hugs. Give it all.
I suppose it was delightfully confusing as a child — all the excitement of having a birthday. So much attention in the air. And sugar. And presents. Or maybe it was because my mother was so inclusive — every compliment returned, every celebration gathered in. When I was wished a happy birthday, the first thing that always bubbled out was “Happy Birthday to you too!” Bubbling joy is meant to be shared!
She loved lemon boats. And yellow tulips. And extra-hot skim vanilla lattes. More frosting than cake. And no-salt margaritas during happy hour. She loved dressing for all of it. Oh, the getting ready! Maybe that was the most joyful part of all. Nobody did it better. And she knew it. So when it came to the big reveal — what she was wearing for her birthday celebration — she entered the room that I was getting ready in (we each had to have our own room, with our own mirror) — and before I could get any words out, she would say, “You look nice too!” Oh how we would laugh!
That’s how I want to carry myself. With that playful confidence. That inclusive spirit of beauty and grace and laughter. Especially today. On her birthday. My mother’s birthday. So, I ask you today, on this 6th of July, to drink the coffee and buy the flowers. Frost the cake. Light the candles. Smile in the mirror. Enter the room with confidence and joy. Be the compliment you need to hear, then give it away, freely! Be bigger than the 4th! Be the 6th!
Happy Birthday, Mom! I smile at her picture, and say, “You look nice too!”
I made a magnet of that years ago. It made me laugh. I used to say it, when I made a mistake, or did something stupid…”My mom thinks I’m pretty.” (as if to say, well, sure I did this, but nevertheless…)
It still makes me laugh, but I suppose, there’s a lot of truth behind it. I knew, I know, always, even in my lowest moments, in her lowest moments, she loves me. And that tickles my heart in the most glorious way.
And to think she knew how to do it, when her mother (bless her heart) wasn’t fast and loose with the compliments (it just wasn’t the time, nor the way.) But if I think again, maybe that’s exactly why she knew how to do it.
It isn’t because they’ve never been knocked down, these people who stand so tall — I think it’s probably because they have. Surround yourself with these people, these unexpected beauties! They will have a story to tell and a heart to share. They will make you laugh, and help you cry. Not much more beautiful than that!
