OCTOGENARIAN, December 14, 2021

In recent years I’ve been thinking that my birthday should also—and probably more importantly—be a second Mother’s Day.  After all, mother planned and prepared for the day, labored through the event, and of the two of us, she actually remembered my birthday.  So, on this December 14th, I’m remembering my mother, Esther Brigman Ferguson (1909-1995) by posting my favorite picture of her (ca. 1930) and giving a small, small account of her mothering.  
Late afternoons when I was about 10 or 11, I began bringing home arrowheads I found in tobacco fields nearby. Mom would look away from her cooking and make over whatever I brought in.  She would reminisce and tell me about finding arrowheads near a stream on the farm where she grew up, this would then flow into other stories about family and farm life.  Mother told me I should keep a record of where I found things, and she encouraged me toward my career before either of us even knew the words “anthropology,” “folklore” or “historical archaeology.”  
Today I’m remembering my Mother and all of my family and friends with these favorite words from W. W.  (1855) –  I celebrate myself And what I assume, you shall assume,  For every atom belonging to me, as good belongs to you.