Mama Had a Saying

“Son, never get up on the wrong side of the bed.” How many times have we heard Mama say this?

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The day was doomed even before entering the office. The wilted and leafless roses greeted the entrance. The portrait of Sir Winston sneered and stared down his lofty Churchill nose at my presence.

It all started because Mama’s advice was ignored. A grievous error. A voice inside pleaded ignorance. It argued, “Which is the wrong side, or the right side of a bed?" Mama’s eyes sent scorn from her heavenly perch with silence, shaking her head again. “Will that boy ever learn?”

The jails are full of malefactors who plead ignorance. Nobody listens. Once the deed’s done, it’s done. And since one can only get out of bed once a day, caution is commended. So mama said. She was never wrong.

There are relentless retribution gods, you know, sent forth to adjust the scales of justice. Dull razors make band aids essential. Try parting your hair on some days. Public humiliation occurs. Mama warned, nobody listened. She was never wrong.

The wrong side of the bed causes coffee spill on the white sofa. It makes cereal stale. It sours orange juice. It mocks everything we do. We curse it. Some days are irredeemable, even as they begin. Who devises such torments…from which side of the bed do they slither?

Getting dressed is a clownish affair. Nothing matches. Mama’s voice echoes, “No stripes with plaids.” As an additional warning, “Don’t get too big for your britches.”

Mama’s voice even speaks from shoes. “Son, don’t start out on the wrong foot.” A voice inside wants to answer, “But Mama, which one is right, which one is wrong?" Somewhere in the ether it thunders, “Son, quit asking stupid questions.” Was your mama like this?

“Young man, don’t hang out with the wrong crowd, ya hear?” She probably heard an expletive cross my lips. So did the retribution gods. They laughed hideously at my flat tire.

Have you ever looked at mirror after lunch? There it is, a huge red glob of spaghetti on your white shirt? Snickers and giggles follow you from the restaurant. You are fixated on that spot all day. No work gets done. Such are the consequences from the wrong side of the bed.

All prospects of making rational decisions are impossible when getting up on the wrong side of the bed, or starting out on the wrong foot. Forget dinner, especially tacos. They will laugh uncontrollably throughout the night. Does no good to shake your fist at the heavens and complain, “Well, Mama, are you satisfied? Look, a clean plate. I thought about the starving Chinese.” Does your mother treat you so shamefully?

Mama is usually right, not wrong, especially about what’s right and what’s wrong. But we ignore vicarious advice, preferring experiential knowledge. Backsliding is inbred into our nature, just like crossing our fingers in case of failure to obey. After all, we were born into trouble as the sparks fly upward. Do you feel this way, too?

It is possible to trick the retribution gods. Tonight, when you go to bed, try the sofa. You might not sleep too well, but there’s only one way in, one way out. Play the odds…let the gods know that Mama didn’t raise no fool!

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There is no moral to this story, only a caveat…Mama is never wrong!

Bud Hearn
May 2, 2014