You ask me, I say Rep. King should be commended for his unique plan to create an international mother exchange.

He
should be commended, that is, providing he isn't entertaining any
bizarre ulterior motives. Like, trying to palm off his wife's mother on
the Russians.

Of course, if that's in back of his mind, there's
always the risk that he'll wind up getting some Russian's wife's mother
in return.

And, as far as I'm concerned, it would serve him right.

If
there's one thing I cannot stand it's a duly elected representative of
the people who takes up the valuable time of the United States Congress
just to solve a gnawing personal problem.

You know what I mean?

However,
for the sake of this discussion, let's assume that Rep. King really
loves his mother-in-law and that his motives are sincere.

In that case, his proposal raises a few questions.

He
suggests a nationwide competition to select the mothers who would be
turned in for exchange. I'd like to know what form this competition
would take.

For example, would there be an apple baking contest?
That's essential. And would the typical American mother have to hold
her own in a sock-darning and collar-turning exam?

Would she be expected to have home remedies for (1) croup, (2) earache, (3) la grippe, (4) runny nose?

To
fit the traditional picture, wouldn't her personality tests have to
reveal an intense feeling that all her children made bad marriages,
that her oldest son's wife is systematically starving him, and that
nobody knows how to raise kids these days — all that hogwash about
child psychology.

I ask these questions because I think I've got
a candidate. I would like to volunteer the services of my own mother.
Or, as I call her, Mom.

What I'm doing is a sacrifice, I know.
But, really, no sacrifice is too great in the cause of international
friendship. Besides, the trip would do her good. She's never gone
anywhere except FarRockaway.

My mother could go to Russia
without too many preconceived notions about Marxism. Back in 1924
somebody told her that Communists practiced free love and she has
primly closed her mind to the entire subject ever since.

My mother is dedicated only to the pressing proposition that everybody she meets is on the verge of a physical breakdown.

Ma Would Serve Nikita Right

Given the opportunity to meet Khrushchev, I'm sure she would look him over carefully, shake her head and tell him:

"You should be ashamed. A man you age letting himself go like that. I've seen overweights
like you drop like flies with heart attacks. And you drink too much.
Your liver must be some sight. I cant tell by your color. Pasty."

This
may not do a helluva lot for world understanding. But, at least, it
would serve the alternate purpose of reducing Nikita to a gibbering,
whining hypochondriac in a matter of minutes.