And The Point Is... by Anne Porter

Never underestimate the powers of a mom.

Even at the ripe age of 23, I have recently relearned this lesson, not that I ever doubted her abilities before. My mom is working on her second master's degree at Mizzou and works full-time as a dietitian listening to patient complaints about lousy hospital food over which she has little control. In addition, she babysits my father and still manages to maintain the house, as well as be the family's finances.

Because of a circumstance concerning my auto insurance last week, I asked my mom to call the insurance company. (Oddly enough, the day I asked her to do this, she had already phoned the company before I even requested the favor.)

The problem was that my insurance had changed my coverage plan without notifying me. So in that two months, they had failed to send a proof of insurance card, and since I have a Mario Andretti ambition, I was pulled over by the police.

I not only received ticket for speeding, but also for no proof of insurance. With no proof of insurance, St. Louis County gave me a Christmas present of a court summons.

All I wanted was a letter from my company saying I was covered at the time I was ticketed. I attempted, attempted, and attempted to obtain this golden correspondence.

This is where mom saves me. She talked to the corporate office (the same people I had been dealing with for two months), and the next day they returned her call.

They magically apologized for their inaccuracy and within two hours faxed a letter to my attorney validating my coverage with their company.

After this miraculous event, I questioned what exactly she had said to them. My mom simply stated that she had given them an estimate of how much of my hard-earned money their little mistake was costing me through attorney fees. Whatever she told them was pure wizardry, and I will forever be grateful to her (even though I always have been.)

As if this mastery was not enough, a place I had applied to for a job called yesterday. I sent in my resume and clips three months ago and had received no response. I thought my application had just gone the way of the circular file.

Strangely enough, the editor there explained to mom that he was very, very sorry that he had not called me sooner, that they are very interested in my writing, and that I should return the call for an interview.

All I can surmise is that something must happen to women when they become mothers because it seems that when the word is mentioned, important people automatically pay respect.

I wonder if all the world peace councils were composed of mothers, if the world would not be a more peaceful place. Maybe Nagasaki and Hiroshima would not have been pummeled with atom bombs, Pearl Harbor not bombarded with shells, and all the world's children would have something to eat.