IM the son of an "Ironman"

A person's genetic code provides the blueprint for such individual characteristics as hair and eye color, and it also influences the presence of particular medical conditions or behavioral tendencies. While we all know that the genetic code is virtually infinite in its expression, many features are more likely than others to be expressed, the ever familiar dominant trait. Additionally, some features have nothing to do with the gene pool at all, but perhaps more likely, are related to environmental factors. Certainly, the ultimate manifestation is multi-factorial, but if you are familiar with Newtonian physics, you'll understand that "the apple, generally, doesn't fall far from the tree", and allow me to explain.

My mother was born in Boston, Massachusetts, in 1918, shortly after the Boston Red Sox won the World Series. Until recently, she had lived her life without ever having seen them win another, but that finally all changed again in 2004. Her parents lived across the street from her home parish of St.Clement's on Bristol Road. My grandmother stressed education, and my mother listened, as she graduated at the top of her class and went on to Regis College in Weston. Long before women were fully accepted for their academic prowess, she defied "gravity" again, by graduating second in her college class with a degree in Chemistry. Her drive for success was contagious, as her brothers equally achieved academically.

During her years in high school and college, my mother frequently was found walking or riding her bicycle wherever she went. I remember that old maroon and yellow stripped, single speed bike, which of course, was her "set of wheels", but I surely couldn't visualize my mother ever having ridden it. After all, those first recollections, she was already "old", so how could she have done that? She once told us that she biked all the way from Boston to Hampton Beach, NH, some 45-50 miles, which she probably did in "her" day.

During the summers of our childhood, my mother would bring us to the lake, Sandy Beach, and let us cool down. She was always preaching the "buddy system", so while we were swimming, we watched out for each other. Although she watched us from the beach, she was always counting heads to insure our safety. I sometimes wondered whether she could have actually swam out to save us, but then again, she probably could have because well, she would have.

Literally, there are hundreds of stories that I could share which would illustrate her perseverance and desire to succeed. Although I have completed a real Ironman, I look at my mother's accomplishments and how they compare. That's when I realize that being an Ironman goes well beyond those 3 events; it's about having a dream, training hard, and living every day with a purpose to make it all happen. She had the dream, she has never stopped training, and continues to make it all happen. As my mother celebrates her 92nd birthday, I thank God that I am the son of an "Ironman". Happy Birthday Mom, we love you, and you can have whatever you want for your special day. However, instead of cake, would you care for an apple? After all, you have 8 to choose from!