My name’s McCabe. This bein’ near to the’ day we celebrate mothers, I got to thinkin’ ‘bout two mothers I knew. They were mothers of friends of mine from a long ways back. It was interestin’ that these mothers were ‘bout as near different as midnight and highnoon. Now Joseph’s mother was as sweet a woman as one could want. She kept a clean house, nursed Joe whenever he got sick, fed him well, encouraged him to be whatever he wanted to be, laughed at his humor, an’ was real kind to him - ya know, hugged him a lot an’ told him he was special to her an’ how happy she was he’d been born.

I remember once when Joe had done really well on a school exam, his mom invited his friends to a party. Man, she fixed three different cakes (I swear she was a champion cake maker) - let’s see, there was a pineapple upside down cake, a strawberry cream cake, an’ uh, oh yeah, a potatoe cake with chocolate frostin’ - and, while that was all bakin’, Joe and us cranked the ice cream maker ‘til we couldn’t turn that crank anymore. I don’t know of anythin’ better than fresh baked cake and home-made ice cream. Well, that was a party and a half that we all enjoyed. ‘Course Joe was a might uncomfortable with all the attention that his mother lavished on him - ‘specially when we kidded him ‘bout it.

On the other hand, Michael’s mother was a terror, tellin’ him there was nothin’ he could do without messin’ up somethin’ fierce. She would complain and tell him what a burden he was to her an’ how he’d been a mistake to begin with. While she was shoutin’ all this she would start off on his father sayin’ what a bastard he was leavin’ like he did, a no-good, work shirkin’ pile of garbage an’ Mike was just like him - worthless shit. She was a ravin’ banshee.

I would look over at Mike an’ it seemed to me, he would just start to shrivel up inside. It got so that eventually whenever we heard her start her screamin’ and bitchin’, Mike and me would light out for the hills.

Mike an’ me use ta hang out a lot when we was growin’ up. I remember one time when I went over to his house. I saw him sittin’ on the porch, man did he ever look one sorry soul: One eye was close to shut and big red welts rose from his face. We started off walkin an’ Mike got to talkin’: He told me ‘bout the beatin’ he got the night before for not done the mowin’ chores like he was supposed to an’ instead took off with me to go to the movie. When he got back home, his ma lit into him with a broom handle. Put several knots on his head, an’ near to broke his arm when he tried to shield himself from the barrage. He could hardly raise his right arm, it hurt so. He didn’t tell me it hurt, but when he lifted it once, he winced hard. I could tell it hurt a real lot.

Later Joe and Mike moved away an’ I lost contact with ‘em. Ever so often, lately, I recall those days and those mothers an’ how they remind me of the Hindu Goddess, Kali. Now Kali had two facets - one was birth giver and loving nurturer and creator, and the other - the more common side - was the destroyer, the demon: Today we might call her Mother Nature. Sure enough we have all seen an’ heard about the beauty an’ the destructiveness of Nature. That is Kali, an’ that was those mothers.

Today I look at mothers an’ see aspects of Kali in all o’ them. I looked at my own mother this way an’ began to see a change in my feelin’s ‘bout her. There were times she was nice an’ lovin’ - in her own way - an’ there were other times when I felt her to be mean, angry, unjust. I saw she was not just one way, but had both sides o’ Kali. As I looked at her in this way, I had less anger toward her - I could see her in a more detached way. But the big payoff for me was when I began to see that I had Kali inside o’ me, also. When I saw this, I had to take off my "Saint McCabe" cloak of always bein’ the one who knew what was best for everyone, always bein’ the one who had to be right. I could then see both sides of people, includin’ as I said, me.

The key to this change came one day, several year ago, when I’d gone to the ocean to a place I knew about that didn’t have many visitors. I was walkin’ through a grove of trees above the beach an’ when I came out onto the beach, I saw a man facin’ out to the ocean. My first reaction was disappointment that I wouldn’t have the beach to myself. I really didn’t want to do any idle chit chat. I was in a quiet mood and wanted solitude. I started to move off down the beach where I could be more alone, but there was somethin’ about that man that drew me toward him. I was in conflict: I wanted to be alone, yet somethin’ inside me wanted me to go towards him.

Since I’d learned to trust my ‘sense’, I walked over and said, "Hello. A mightly nice day to be on the beach."

He turned around an’ nodded in response. Then he turned back to gaze out over the waves.

Dang, if there wasn’t somethin’ about this guy, but I couldn’t get my thinkin’ to see what it was. So rather than just stand there, I said, "You come here much?"

He continued to look outward, "Nope. First time."

"This is one of my favorite places. Not too many people know about it, or if they know about it, don’t care to hike out here. Ya know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I guess." More silence.

I was beginnin’ to wonder if my ‘sense’ had been off, that maybe I’d made a mistake an’ should ‘a gone on down the beach and left this guy alone. But my ‘sense’ stayed firm. So I says, "What got you down here? It sure ain’t a tourist stop. Most tourists don’t want to walk the mile to get here. There’s plenty of beaches where they don’t have to walk much at all."

"I don’t know why I’m here. Just had this feeling I should be here. I was driving down the coast when I had this strong feeling to stop and come out here. In fact I had driven about seven or eight miles beyond here and that peculiar pull got stronger. I couldn’t shake it, so I turned around and came back. So here I am, wondering if I’ve gone off the deep end."

"Don’t know if you have, but I know that kind of feelin’ myself. Had it just as I came onto the beach. I saw you here and started to walk on down there to leave you alone and to be alone myself. My sense was to come an’ say ‘hello’."

At this he turned to me and looked hard as if trying to fathom some secret. I just stood there lookin’ back wonderin’ ‘what next.’

Then he says, "Somehow I seem to know you, but I don’t think we’ve ever met before. Have we?"

"I had the same impression ‘bout you. You don’t look familiar, but I sense I know you from somewhere. Anyways, let me introduce myself, my name’s McCabe."

"Hm, McCabe. I seem to remember someone ..." His voice faded off. Then he nodded his head as though he had asked himself a question an’ asked silently answered it. At that he smiled slightly an’ took a deep breath and said, "I’m Joseph."

We sat down on the sand and he continued, "Tomorrow’s Mother’s Day and I was traveling to put some flowers on my mother’s grave in remembrance. I didn’t always like my mother: At times she could be brutal and beat me with her broom handle. Through the years I always picked women that were angry, withholding, judgmental, cold, like my mother, but would try to pick someone who would make me forget her. But when I was in India I studied the Hindu Gods, especially Kali, and saw that I had been seeing her as that demon destroyer. Through this I began the journey to de-deify her. She was human with foibles and faults. Now when I think of her, I mainly remember the three cakes she would make when giving me a party. So now I’m on my way to lay flowers on her grave and tell her ‘goodbye’ and be free."

I looked at him intently, "What did you say your name was?"