My mother, Magi, was a Registered Nurse, a military veteran, and mother of six. In the 1970s, she ran for Mayor of Detroit. She believed in that city when so many others had turned their backs on it. She sometimes would say she had faith that “the Phoenix would rise again.” After the 1967 uprising and the White Exodus that followed, she bought a HUD house for a dollar to show her commitment to staying. Not everyone understood her choices. But I did. Her message was clear: I believe in Detroit. I believe in the people of this city. And I’m not going anywhere.
She showed me what it meant to follow your convictions, to cultivate a sense of humor and do the right thing, even when no one’s watching. She never labeled herself a leader. But she was.
I was the eldest of six, which meant I began babysitting my younger siblings by the time I was ten years old. While other kids played outside, I was fixing bag lunches, baking Jiffy cakes, mediating disputes, and trying to prevent toddlers from falling off furniture. I was unable to stop my sister from pulling a teapot rimmed with real 4K gold - a precious possession of my mother - off the fireplace mantle. Boy, did I ever learn a lesson in responsibility that day.
When I was a kid, I discovered that a dark closet could become a magical theater. I’d gather my younger siblings, squeeze us into the cramped space, and with just a flashlight held in my brother’s hands, I’d bring shadow creatures to life on the wall. Rabbits danced, wolves howled, and entire stories unfolded in flickering silhouette. The darkness added an element of intrigue as these shadow shows sparked our imaginations. We’d laugh, gasp, and whisper as the “curtain” of the closet opened on whatever tale I made up that day. It was my first stage, and perhaps the beginning of my lifelong love of storytelling. I know it left an impression on at least two of my sisters, both of whom went on to join improvisational comedy troupes. Maybe those early closet theaters planted the seed for their own stage presence, too.
From that early immersion, I received an eye-opening education in what motherhood actually demands. It was beautiful. It was exhausting. And it helped me realize something that didn’t really surprise me: I would choose a different path.
I never had children of my own, and I’m thankful every single day for that decision. Choosing child-freedom gave me the capability to tell stories, travel the world with my husband, build a creative business, and mentor others. I’ve mothered in other ways through my work, my poetry, and my friendships. But I also got to shape my life in a way that was right for me.
One of my favorite memories of my mom was a road trip we took to Illinois for a National Organization for Women conference around 1973. On the way, we stopped at the Indiana Dunes and ran barefoot through the sand like two kids.
Then we hit the highway again, singing along to Paul Simon on the radio. “Mama don’t take my Kodachrome away…” That song became our road trip anthem. We loved the irony of it, since it was my mom who inspired me to become a photographer and bought me my first camera, a Kodak Brownie (which I still have.)
A few weeks after she passed on a frigid Friday the 13th in December of 2013, that song came on the radio. I pulled the car over and cried. The music brought her back to me for a moment - her laugh, her hands on the wheel, her off-key harmonies - and I let myself feel it all.
My mom loved to sing, even when it was slightly cringe. She didn’t care. She sang with joy. These days, I sing too. I’ve been creating music under the name Candace Love, and I think Magi would be fascinated.
Her legacy lives on in the choices I make, the stories I tell, and the people I choose to lift up. She didn’t just raise me. She launched me. And the map she left behind still guides me with questions, courage, and the vivid, dancing colors of Kodachrome.
Love,
Patty Mooney aka Candace Love
🎵 CANDACE LOVE 🎵 Songs, stories & films from a life well lived
Listen to the music: Spotify · Apple Music · SoundCloud · Bandcamp
Watch the videos: YouTube
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