Ahead of Mother's Day, a Few Notes on Lana Hovey

A few of mom's things...There must be a gene or something in amniotic fluid that triggers a love of luxury goods, equestrian aesthetics, animal parts and symbols of war. She used the Vuitton to carry my diapers.

1) She claimed to be 5'11 3/4" - but she was at least two inches taller than Porter and I, who measure in roughly at 5'11" (Porter has a few millimeters on me). 

2a) She would have given her right arm to get into the Mademoiselle magazine internship program after college. She applied to that and a summer program at Radcliffe. She got Radcliffe, not the internship. It crushed her. But Radcliffe changed her life...and she started a job at Mademoiselle the week after the program ended.

2b) While at Radcliffe, she attended a small lecture by a tall Harvard Med student who'd just written his first novel, The Andromeda Strain.  He asked her out. She, being too shy, said "no" and gave up any chances of being Mrs. Michael Chrichton.

3) She called my dad (also named Porter) Posengaze; He called her Lanereeze. These terms of affection (which I don't think have ever been spelled out) seemed to come out - very loudly - at the grocery store. "Posengaze, how are we doing on cereal?!?!"

4) She hated the PTA and refused to let Porter join the "Just Say No" club because she found it sick that parents would be asked to tattle on other people's children. 

5) She never pulled punches when advising us on ways to navigate the grade school social scene:  "'Sally' is a mean little bitch because she has no self esteem. Don't let it bother you. Just wait to see what happens to her in high school."

6) She loved black licorice and Blind Robbins (not necessarily in the same snack).

7) She sent out press releases about my birthday parties.

8) She cried when I joined a sorority, saying she didn't raise a daughter to be a conformist.  A week later, after being forced to paint a plastic cup for a racist girl I never liked, I gave my pin back. We never spoke of it again.

16 comments

  1. Your Mother sounds a lot like mine. My baby bag was Chanel tho. And my first baby spoon was not silver, but in fact gold. And for some apparent reason I do find that a love for luxury and all things glamorous is inherited. I can't seem to break the chain that has tied me down to this love of luxury. And my Mother wants almost nothing to do with Mother's Day in fact she tends to hide at the spa (which is nothing special for her) just to not hear the ruckus at your average Mother's Day events. I'm glad to hear I am not the only one affected by heredity.

  2. Shay says:

    that's absolutely lovely, thanks for the smile.

  3. An amazing woman, who, no surprise, raised two amazing women. She'd be oh-so-proud of you both.

  4. Brilliant, brilliant woman. (Of course.) Mrs. B. is right about the so-proud thing.

  5. this was beautiful, hhh. gosh, i'm choked up.

    what an amazing woman. i can't say i'm surprised.

  6. mary says:

    I want to adopt your mother--so many things just right (and tall, too)!!! Happy Mother's Day to you for having such amazing inspiration.

  7. REread says:

    your mum sounds like she was one cool lady. My mum think mothers day is ridiculous ... so I send her pink cards with things like 'thank you for brining me into the worlds, without your gift of life I would never have been able to experiment with drugs'

  8. K says:

    all I can say is JEALOUS!

  9. Kim says:

    I think I'd get along with your mom. A Vuitton was the diaper bag of choice for me as well when my girls were young. Why not?

  10. My Mother early taught me to appreciate fine design and elegant workmanship. Her sterling rests in my drawers, the monogrammed linen in my closet, the diamonds are in the bank - in more ways than one! Ann

  11. I like Lanereeze. She sounds like my kind of mommy! Way to go on being born to such a great mother.

  12. She sounds like my kind of woman.

  13. Anonymous says:

    I am so your mother with regards to the "'Sally' is a mean little bitch because she has no self esteem. Don't let it bother you. Just wait to see what happens to her in high school."


    I can't tell you the number of times I've told my daughter virtually the same thing. But then by daughter (age 18) came out of the womb not suffering fools and ALWAYS telling it like it was.

    After telling my daughter the one girl "was bad news" went to school and promptly repeated verbatim what I had said. Oh well, the truth sometimes hurts.

  14. grace says:

    i love it

  15. She sounds fantastic. What a wonderful description.

  16. Your mother sounds like such a funky person in the good sense. She sounds like a real free spirit but with strong principals. I love that combination, and the fact that you have all these fun, colorful memories of her is precious.