Uncle John’s Presents Mom’s Bathtub Reader (18 page)

Ann Moore made the world better for babies with a lesson she learned from African mothers.

I
n the 1960s, newlyweds Ann and Mike Moore went to Togo in West Africa as Peace Corps volunteers. Ann was a pediatric nurse who had taught at Columbia University and worked with refugees in East Germany and earthquake victims in Morocco. Well-educated and experienced, she was eager to share her information and expertise with mothers from a developing, poverty-stricken nation.

While Ann fulfilled her assignment teaching nutrition classes in Togo, she was surprised to find that Africans could teach the industrialized world a thing or two when it came to raising children. African children and their mothers had a closer bond than most mothers and children did back in America.

Ann knew that back in the States when a sick child had to go to the hospital, mother and child were separated and the medical staff took over, leaving the traumatized child alone with strangers. In Africa, mothers stayed at the hospital to be with their sick babies. Ann saw how comforting it was for suffering children to be able to rely on the presence of their mothers. She saw that the closeness between mother and baby was of benefit to both.

Outside the hospital Ann saw more of African mothers and babies practicing togetherness. What most impressed
Ann was the African mothers’ custom of carrying their babies in fabric slings tied to their backs. Togo babies rarely cried and seemed remarkably contented compared to Western infants. Moore came to the conclusion that the babies were calm because being so close to their mothers made them feel secure.

Soon after their Peace Corps assignment was over and Ann and Mike returned to the United States, their daughter was born. Wanting the very best for little Mande (Mande’s full name is Mandela, after South African freedom fighter Nelson Mandela) and remembering those contented Togo babies, Ann decided to carry her own daughter in a fabric sling. Unfortunately it wasn’t as easy as African mothers make it look. Mande kept slipping out of the sling.

Luckily, Ann’s own mom was an excellent seamstress. She sewed a sling for her granddaughter according to Ann’s design. With Mande safely swaddled on her back, Ann (or Mike) could clean, cook, run errands, or enjoy a walk or bike ride while keeping Mande close, comfortable, and secure. The Moores’ baby carrier may have been based on ancient ideas, but it was totally new to Americans, and the soft carrier turned heads wherever they went.

Some observers warned the Moores that they were spoiling their daughter by allowing her to be constantly close to them. Mike and Ann explained that making infants feel secure and loved helped create self-confident and independent children. Many loved the whole concept and wanted to know how to get a backpack of their own or for a gift. As they began to produce more and more baby
carriers for envious mothers, Mike and Ann began to feel they had a mission and a business.

Soon Mande’s grandma was hiring friends to help her keep up with orders. Ann worked to improve the carrier with adjustable straps and a pouch to hold up the baby’s head. Many moms wanted to be able to carry their babies on their chests, so Ann adapted the carrier for “front loading.” By 1969 Ann had a patent on the Snugli carriers and by 1984 the company had sales of more than $6 million.

Ann’s successful innovation and enterprise has brought her recognition—the
Wall Street Journal
named her one of the most influential inventors of the millennium. But Ann has been quick to stress that she adapted a centuries-old technique developed by African mothers. “There have been so many times that I’ve been thankful in my prayers to the African mothers,” Ann has said. “They were really our inspiration and it is so wonderful to think that we in America can have the same closeness with our babies.”

The Moores sold their company in 1985, but in the late 1990s, when their grandchildren were born, Ann went back to the drawing table and devised another soft carrier called the Weego. Once again the Moores were in a booming baby business, but this time they had the help of their three grown daughters: Mande in charge of marketing, Hopi in charge of sales, and Nicole running purchasing. The Moores may also have a ready-made market, since many new moms and dads were, themselves, once contentedly viewing the world from inside a soft Snugli.

There are even more songs named “Mama” than named “Mother.” We listened to them all because we love mama just that much. Here’s a sampling.

“Mama” by Half Pint
(album:
Victory
, 1987)

What it sounds like:
Standard-issue pop reggae vibe with Half Pint ladling out standard-issue praises to his single parent. He’s a good son, sure, but this is mediocre.

Play for mama?
Nah. Why settle for so-so reggae when Ziggy Marley & the Melody Makers have a song called “Mama,” which has more zest, vibe, and groove? It’s on the
Joy and Blues
album.

“Mama” by Dream City Film Club
(album:
Dream City Film Club
, 1997)

What it sounds like:
Music for a particularly morose scene from a David Lynch movie, with out-of-key guitars and accordions, and lyrics sung as if through a cardboard tube.

Play for mama?
If you do, mama will probably wonder what’s wrong with your head to make you think she’d enjoy this art-punk mishmash mess.

“Mama” by Chubby Carrier & the Bayou Swamp Band
(album:
Boogie Woogie Zydeco
, 1991)

What it sounds like:
Like you’re sitting on the porch of a Louisiana swamp shack, dipping your toes in the water and sucking the meat out of the head of a crayfish.

Play for mama?
Hoo-
eeee
! You bet! Clearly the most fun you can have with an accordion. Put it on and stomp merrily through the kitchen.

“Mama” by the Spice Girls
(album:
Spice
, 1997)

What it sounds like:
Pop drivel about how the various Spice Girls, like, totally
hated
their moms, but now they realize they only did good things for them! They love their mamas!

Play for your mama?
She probably won’t
hate
it. But if this sort of sugary, brainless pop appeals to your mom, maybe you could take her to the record store and broaden her horizons.

“Mama” by Connie Francis
(album:
The Return Concert
, 1996)

What it sounds like:
Big, sweeping orchestral, with just enough mandolin and ear-busting emoting from Francis to make a New Jersey mobster sob like a baby.

Play for your mama?
Of course you should. Especially if she’s from the old country, the “old country” understood to be either Italy or the 1950s.

“Mama” by the Katinas
(album:
The Katinas
, 1999)

What it sounds like:
Exactly what they are: a boy band proclaiming their love for their passed-on mother (all the Katinas are brothers), who now resides in heaven with Jesus.

Play for your mama?
If your mama loves boy bands and religious pop, sure.

“Mama” by Max Roach
(album:
Percussion Bitter Sweet
, 1961)

What it sounds like:
Like one of the best jazz percussionists whacking away merrily while a hot jazz combo swirls and pulses around him. Driving, mad beats and licks.

Play for your mama?
If your mama’s a cool cat who digs her jazz hot, daddy-o (snap, snap), you know it.

“Mama” by Oingo Boingo
(album:
Boingo Alive: Celebration of a Decade 1979–1988
, 1988)

What it sounds like:
Like the raving homeless guy you saw on the subway if only he had mucho musical ability and the belief that mama could save his soul.

Play for your mama?
Okay, but its claustrophobic and sinister feel will likely inspire mom to schedule a psychiatric examination for you afterward. Fair warning.

“Mama” by Yo-Yo Ma, Edgar Meyer, and Mark O’Connor
(album:
Appalachia Waltz
, 1996)

What it sounds like:
Like three of the best players of classical string instruments getting warmly down home right in your living room, sending notes ascending and descending through the entire house.

Play for your mama?
Yes, if she’s a classical buff and thought you’d never get past that whole “mullet rock” stage in your life. (You don’t have to get past it, you know. Just pretend.)

“Mama” by the Sugarcubes
(album:
Life’s Too Good
, 1988)

What it sounds like:
Several musical citizens of one of the coldest countries in the world (Iceland) going completely nuts, especially freakish pixie singer Björk. Yet, very tuneful.

Play for your mama?
For fans of angular, brainy pop and those moms with a quirky streak.

She was Israel’s favorite mother—but that doesn’t mean the job was a cinch.

I
n the 1970s, when the Israeli prime minister visited the United States, Washington’s hard-bitten journalists shot tough questions. Did the prime minister believe Israel could have peace with its neighbors? Would Israel employ nuclear weapons if its survival were in jeopardy? Then came the real stumper: what was the best way to make gefilte (stuffed) fish?