close

According to Hofmann: Complimenting Strangers: a mother’s guide to world peace

By Mark Hofmann mhofmann@heraldstandard.Com 6 min read
article image -

As a kid, you always wanted to treat your parents equally. If my brother and I made my mom breakfast in bed on Mothers Day, we had to do the same for my dad on Fathers Day. When we begged one parent for a pet snapping turtle, we had to beg to the other one, too. It’s that balance of annoyance that keeps a family strong.

Following the death of my father three years ago, I dedicated a column to him. So, with my mom passing away two weeks ago, I wanted to do the same for her. However, I couldn’t find a column on standby that I could use, so I decided to rework my eulogy to her into a column. She would have loved it; she always wanted me to write an entire column about her, which she said would just be an ode of “how beautiful your mother is; that’s why they call me Linda Beautifina” as well as her humbleness. But she had a great sense of humor, and that’s only one small part of what made her great. Love you and miss you always, mom.

Those who knew my mom can all agree the world is sadder without her in it.

She was kind, she laughed all the time, she was a great person to be around and she sang all the time. She always sang whenever there was music playing. She also sang when there wasn’t music playing … she even sang when nobody asked her to or wanted her to. She didn’t care because she loved to do it and had a great voice to back it up.

Something she also loved to do was compliment my wife and my sister in-law all the time, which made them adore their mother in-law even more and made my brother and me look bad for not complimenting them all the time. Maybe I should buy my wife some flowers.

Anyway, my mom would even compliment total strangers whenever we were in public — often seeking them out and stopping them just to tell them how much she liked their hair or clothes or would tell them a story or two or five about her grandchildren and her dog.

Sometimes it backfired.

Nearly three years ago, I took my mom on one of her many late-night trips to the emergency room at a local hospital for kidney stone pain.

We were in an exam room, waiting for test results. We also had no choice but to listen to a female patient in the room across the hall from us.

We heard as she was crying, fighting with the staff, screaming, refusing to have her stomach pumped, threatening to sue everyone for trying to treat her, signing herself out against medical advice and loudly coughing up something my imagination didn’t want to entertain.

My mom was discharged a few hours later, and we went outside in front of the hospital.

I told her to wait there so I could bring the car around for her.

Not even a minute goes by, and as I’m driving toward her, I see my mom standing there, of course, talking to a total stranger. As I stepped out of the car, I heard the voice, and I realized she was talking to that patient from across the hall.

I parked the car and walked to my mother, who said, “Mark, this girl needs to use your phone so someone can pick her up.”

After getting my mom in the car, I spent the next half hour waiting while the woman called everyone she knew (and I think people she didn’t know) to beg and argue for a ride. She even took time to chit-chat and catch up on old times — all the while coughing God knows what onto my phone’s screen, which I thoroughly disinfected as soon as we returned home.

When I finally broke away from the woman and went back to the car, my mom said, “I’m glad you’re back. I was ready to call the police.”

All I could say was, “Mom, this is why you shouldn’t talk to strangers.”

But she didn’t listen because that’s who she was, and she always did it. Strangely enough, I’m also glad she did.

Nearly 30 years ago, we were camping in Maine, and I went to the camp’s shower while she waited for me outside. I walked out later to see her sitting at a picnic table, talking to two strangers. I rolled my eyes because, of course, she’s talking to strangers again.

When I approached the table, she looked at me and said with a smile, “Mark, do you know who these people are neighbors with? They’re neighbors with Stephen King.”

I was just becoming a huge Stephen King fan, and they told us stories about him, they gave us his address, and we drove by his house, took photos — basically stalked him. With the address the neighbors provided, I even mailed him a book that he returned autographed … along with a restraining order.

Anyway, that never would have happened if my mother didn’t decide to talk to those strangers at a campsite picnic table.

So, beyond reflecting on all that made her great, I think, going forward, it’s best to take those things that people loved about my mom and apply it to our lives.

I’m not suggesting we become just like her because there’s only one Linda “Beautifina” Hofmann for all time.

But I am suggesting maybe sing a little bit with or without music, compliment people a little more and break the ice and talk to random people … just maybe think twice about doing it outside of a hospital ER at 2 a.m., but you get my drift.

Even if you never met her, I think if you just allow some time for the joy she held to flow through you, you can at least make the world a little happier.

According to Hofmann is written by staff reporter Mark Hofmann of Rostraver Township. His books, “Good Mourning! A Guide to Biting the Big One … and Dying, Too” and “Stupid Brain,” are available on Amazon.com.

CUSTOMER LOGIN

If you have an account and are registered for online access, sign in with your email address and password below.

NEW CUSTOMERS/UNREGISTERED ACCOUNTS

Never been a subscriber and want to subscribe, click the Subscribe button below.

Starting at $4.79/week.

Subscribe Today