One of my earliest memories...

...is watching I Love Lucy -- from a playpen, I think -- and wondering, Why is my mother on TV?

I thought of this when reading a piece yesterday in the Times, "Here’s Lucy! ‘Scary’ Statue Is Replaced With One That Looks Like Her." (That's the replacement statue, above.)

Why did I think Lucille Ball -- or Lucy Ball, as my grandmother called her -- was my mother? I have no idea. My mom wasn't a redhead and she wasn't particularly ditzy. In fact, she wasn't ditzy at all. Did she resemble Ms. Ball? Not really; I guess I was just a little confused.

When I began dating my wife in the mid-1980s she asked me what my mother looked like. I immediately thought of Donna Reed, above. When my mother heard this she told my sister she hoped her future daughter-in-law "wouldn't be disappointed."

I have to admit, that's a heck of a picture of Donna Reed. A friend of mine once told me that when he was young he thought his mother was the most beautiful woman in the world. That's probably not uncommon. But even I don't think my mother was as beautiful as Donna Reed.

Why is any of this important? It's not, I guess. Just thinking about my mother.