Every single sports story I edited today referred to a "Mothers Day crowd". Okay, so my mom (and more than a few others) would be quite happy with a day out at the ballpark. But, see, I just don't know what one thing has to do with another.

I've gone off on these little holidays before. Luckily, my family doesn't concern itself too much with such things (a phone call is more than enough to mark such an occasion), but I just can't get past all of the tacky things given to mothers all over the country.

These are just a few of the things marketing geniuses pitched at Mom this year:

diamonds
flowers
a critter of some sort
breakfast
brunch
a six-pack of beer
a four-pack of wine coolers
a refrigerator
a tune-up or oil change for the car
a Kenny G CD
a computer
the latest "single-person shooter"
a lawn mower
beef in many forms
the Ron Jeremy XJ12 model
Motrin
Vagisil
a new mixer or blender
a brand-new car
a pre-owned automobile
Taco Bell gift certificates
nipple piercings
KY Jelly
Jello band gelatin
cellulite treatments
a face-lift
a nice pair
a shaver
yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
Chinese takeout
the artwork of Keith Haring
a subscription to Guns & Ammo
dresses
blouses
capri pants (they're in this year!)

and a whole bunch of other stuff. Really, that list just scratches the surface. On top of all the consumer silliness, there's the comics on Mothers Day, which always seem to be sentimental in excess. Tough guys always cry on Mothers Day. It is a day for sanctioned emotion.

Which is fine, I guess. I mean, I don't have any problems with that specific part of the ritual. I come from a family where we don't say "I love you" an awful lot, but the love is certainly understood. There's really no doubt, at least since my youngest brother got over his teenage angst. We get along.

And, yes, I tried to call my mom. But she was off in Minnesota with my grandma. I would've called up there, but I didn't. My parents are visiting next week; I'm sure we can catch up with all that then.

Point? I don't need the officially sanction "days of appreciation". My wife tends to forget our anniversary, and I don't worry about it. Every day is as good as any to celebrate what you have. I prefer my sentimentality to be unhindered by government influence.

Gosh. Me espousing a conservative viewpoint. Never thought I'd see the day.

Jon Worley is not a mother, and thus he did not receive a complimentary "Piedmont oyster" at the gates of the Durham Athletic Park on Sunday.