By LEONARD GRAY

I hope you know Mother’s Day is Sunday. Today’s column is the present I’m giving this year.

Many people don’t have it very easy growing up. I had it better than most, though, because I had someone to love me, guide me, protect me, advise me and be a mother when I so desperately needed one.

That remarkable lady, Betty Owens of Luling, took in her brother’s youngest son, the product of a home split by divorce, and (quite frankly) civilized me.

She already had two sons of her own but, as every good mother does, her love expanded to fit the need. She didn’t neglect anyone; she loved us all.

And, let’s face it, I wasn’t too easy to love. I was undisciplined, picky about food, had my own weird little personality traits and, if there was a mud puddle within five miles, I found it and walked through it.

She still tells stories about when we’d go “to town” shopping and I’d disappear, usually in search of books. Everyone would fan out and “hunt for Leonard.”

How I survived childhood remains a lasting mystery in my family.

In my eyes, equally remarkable is my uncle, Lawrence Owens of Luling, who took in an 8-year-old child who wasn’t a blood relative and was just as good a daddy to me as one could wish for.

And though it seemed bumpy at times growing up, my cousin Marty Owens is more my brother than my two actual brothers, and I love him as a brother.

Admittedly, my family history can get a little complicated but one clear thing has always remained – there’s always been love in our family. We care what happens to each other, even when we seem so busy in our own lives to really keep up with what’s going on.

However, everything positive about what I am, I attribute to my aunt and uncle, who raised me as one of their own with unconditional love.

Everything negative is my own fault.

LEONARD GRAY is assistant managing editor of L’Observateur. He may be reached at (985) 652-9545.