Mother’s Day 2021

L-R Bishop Carlye Hughes, me and Jackie Hughes

Regular readers of The Randy Report know there are a few posts that I share annually.

I originally wrote this in 2015.


Happy Mother’s Day wishes to all those fabulous, wonderful mothers who teach and nurture us all.

When I was young, people felt sad for me because my mother passed away at a young age.  But the universe had another (maybe better?) plan for me.

Because so many women were sent my way to teach, support and love on me to bring me to here.  I think wisdom greater than mine knew it would all be more than ok.

This Mother’s Day is my first without Jackie Hughes, who I called “Mother” for over 30 years. She passed last summer and nothing will ever be the same. But what she gave me, and shaped in me, lives on.

I loved the smile in Mother’s voice. When she said my name it was musical and lilting. “Rannn-dy.” She made me feel like I belonged.

She was the center of the Hughes family. And we all knew it.

Mother speaking at Carlye’s wedding reception after my toast

Memory:  Mother was an expert shopper. EXPERT. She knew how to befriend all the ladies at Neiman Marcus so they would hide items she wanted until they went on serious sale. Double markdowns. Triple markdowns. Then she’d buy. And hide the dresses in the back of the closet for months.

When she’d finally wear them, Coach (Father Hughes is the winningest high school basketball coach in the history of the U.S.) might compliment her, asking if that was new. Mother would reply – in perfect ‘Texan’ – “This? I’ve had it for months. But, thank you.” Always followed by a warm, secret smile.

I didn’t share Mother’s passing here on The Randy Report when it happened. I kept thinking I would, but I never felt any language worthy of Mother’s memory come to me.

I did come across these two quotes that feel right. So, thank you to all the mothers out there – the women who make up more of us than we’ll ever understand.

“To describe my mother would be to write about a hurricane in its perfect power. Or the climbing, falling colors of a rainbow.”
— Maya Angelou

“But there’s a story behind everything. How a picture got on a wall. How a scar got on your face. Sometimes the stories are simple, and sometimes they are hard and heartbreaking. But behind all your stories is always your mother’s story, because hers is where yours begin.”
― Mitch Albom, For One More Day

My birth mother, Joyce Ann Slovacek, back in 1958.
You can see it, right…?