Sunday is a moment when those whose mothers raised us to be responsible adults (or merely allowed us to live long enough to hand the job to someone else) can express our gratitude and/or apologies for what we put them through.
I’m grateful to my mom for giving me life. Virtually all the good things I’ve experienced in the past seven decades required me to be alive. So did the bad things, but I’m willing to concede that one was worth the other.
In an effort to keep life from disposing of me, my mother gave me a lot of advice.