My Mother’s Son.


I was holding my 91-year-old Mom’s hand when she died on Saturday.  And today I’m going to use my tiny bit of weekly attention to make her just a little more famous. She deserves that. Of course this has nothing to do with digital advertising or sales; just a whole lot about real greatness and the resilience of the human spirit.

Pat Weaver was born during the first years of passenger aviation and commercial radio and died during the age of paid space travel and YouTube celebrities. She was a child of the Great Depression, a World War II teenager and an 18-year old bride and mother of five during the postwar years of the baby boom. She did what needed to be done, often at the expense of her own personal opportunities, but always with a sense of joy and optimism. The wife of a Sheriff’s deputy, she always worked at least one job – often two – and was the stable daily presence in the lives of her sons.

She started adult life with a high school diploma, a marriage license and a one-way train ticket from her native Louisiana to Los Angeles. (That’s the trip she’s on in the picture at left.) Perhaps because of this, she became a lifelong learner, earning college credits for decades and writing out copious notes and journal entries on what fascinated her. And everything fascinated her. She faced down cancer and battled clinical depression and mental illness. And though she came age when such things were not to be discussed, she became an advocate for and friend to others who struggled to heal. Nobody suffered alone on my Mom’s watch. Nobody.

During an age that was not particularly kind to women, my Mom was unfailingly kind. In the face of adversity and loss, she chose resilience and optimism. During the final years of life, when many become isolated and despondent, Pat decided to embrace her life and every new person who came on the scene. Anonymous for three quarters of a century, she made her first movie at the tender age of 88. Through resilience and optimism and unquenchable joy, she won. She won big.

If something I’ve written or said to you over the years has made you feel more hopeful or confident – if I’ve helped you somehow – that’s all her. Her being there for me gave me the strength to be there for others.

As anyone would, I love getting awards and hearing praise. But the best thing that will every be said about me is that I was my mother’s son. Living up to that would be my greatest accomplishment. I’ll let you know if I ever get there.

If you are so moved, please consider donating to Mental Health America in the name of someone who inspires you.  And thanks for reading a little bit about my Mom.