Where has this summer gone? Oh, I know that we still have to face August and September and that we can expect more heat during that time. However, schools will be starting a new year in most of this area within the next few weeks and we will be off on another round of fall and winter activities.
Recently I was thinking about county fairs that are most often held in early September. As a child, my siblings and I did not know nor care about the crop displays or the animals shown at county fairs. We were accustomed to attending the state fair in Dallas, and to us, it meant lots of rides and special treats of food.
Can you remember the taste of cotton candy? To me, cotton candy looked so inviting and then when I began to eat it, it melted down to nothing. This was similar to tasting vanilla flavoring. When Mother made a cake, I would usually be standing by her side, or perhaps sitting on the cabinet countertop. When she put that vanilla in the cake, the aroma was tantalizing.
I remember begging her to let me have a taste and she told me, “You won’t like it,” but eventually she did go ahead and give me a small taste in a teaspoon. What a disappointment! It was so bitter I never asked to taste it a second time.
When it came to rides, I was never the daredevil that my siblings were. Once when we were all on the Ferris wheel, and the operator stopped the machine while we were right at the top. I must have been about ten or twelve years old, and I begin yelling, “Let me off.” For some reason, I was really frightened.
The operator started the wheel up and when we got to the bottom, he stopped and let me off. I was so embarrassed, but at the same time, I was glad to be off.
In 1936 when Texas celebrated their Centennial, my dad had bought several books of tickets for the various activities at the fair. About the time the Centennial activities got into full swing, my brother came down with scarlet fever and we were quarantined.
After a certain period of time, my sister and I were given a clean bill of health and were allowed to leave the house. However, Mother could not go off and leave my brother while she took us to the fair, so my maternal grandmother came and stayed a week or so, and took my sister and me to the fair. We would not think of letting those tickets go to waste.
At that time, my grandmother must have been in her seventies. I recall we stayed all day at the fair and I can’t imagine a person that age herding two children all that time.
I do remember that I had a new appreciation for good cold drinking water after that day of consuming soft drinks all day.
After Ray and I had a family, he did help us learn to enjoy the crops on display and the beautiful animals that were shown with such pride.
7-29-2009
#445
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Traveling a Well-worn Path
My continuing project of cleaning out old records and memorabilia is like traveling a well-worn path. However, many of the items I am discovering, are things I had long since forgotten.
I’ve learned one thing: a person should always designate who the persons are in photos and should record a date. Last month when my aunt celebrated her 101st birthday, her daughter gave one of my nieces some old pictures and my niece Marcia became interested in checking out some of our ancestors.
Since I am the oldest of my parents’ children, I remembered more than my brother or either of my sisters, but even so, there is a large blank space in the line of our ancestors.
As I search through the pictures and old news clippings, there is always the decision as to which things to keep and which to toss. I have found several letters written in the mid 1970s that were sent by friends. Many of these persons are no longer with us, but I found a few that I intend to pass along to the offspring of these friends.
I spent a few days last week shredding old income tax records. I decided that I could safely dispose of the first income tax return that Ray and I filed for 1948.
Removing the staples from these records takes longer than the actual shredding process. I try to contain the staples, but there are always some that escape, so I have to hunt for those.
While I have been busy doing these chores, Starr has examined some of the records from her school days here in Waurika, from first grade to graduation. We’ve enjoyed many laughs as we looked at these and recalled events surrounding the photos.
When these young persons get out of high school and college, the old records don’t seem to have the same meanings for them as they do for us seniors. As they grow older, however, they do seem to find more interest in the past.
I hate to admit this, but I am the type person who procrastinates on chores until I am pushed into doing something about the problem. Well, that’s what it has come to with the paper work. I had large boxes stacked in my closets, filling them to the extent that we could hardly get our clothes in the closets. So, I could no longer ignore the situation.
Because of my niece’s interest in our family history, we are beginning to realize just how much we do not know. She did have a good starting place when she entered my maternal grandmother’s maiden name as Goostree. I doubt that there are that many persons who claim that name.
Both my grandfathers died at an early age and we do not know much about either of them or their lineage. I was fortunate enough to get to know each of them somewhat, but at my young age at that time, I never took much interest in finding out about them. My dad was the oldest of six children in his family and he was the first to die. Since then, 1989, all of his siblings have passed on, so finding someone with true facts about his family is almost impossible. However, it’s fun to search anyway.
7-22-2009
#444
I’ve learned one thing: a person should always designate who the persons are in photos and should record a date. Last month when my aunt celebrated her 101st birthday, her daughter gave one of my nieces some old pictures and my niece Marcia became interested in checking out some of our ancestors.
Since I am the oldest of my parents’ children, I remembered more than my brother or either of my sisters, but even so, there is a large blank space in the line of our ancestors.
As I search through the pictures and old news clippings, there is always the decision as to which things to keep and which to toss. I have found several letters written in the mid 1970s that were sent by friends. Many of these persons are no longer with us, but I found a few that I intend to pass along to the offspring of these friends.
I spent a few days last week shredding old income tax records. I decided that I could safely dispose of the first income tax return that Ray and I filed for 1948.
Removing the staples from these records takes longer than the actual shredding process. I try to contain the staples, but there are always some that escape, so I have to hunt for those.
While I have been busy doing these chores, Starr has examined some of the records from her school days here in Waurika, from first grade to graduation. We’ve enjoyed many laughs as we looked at these and recalled events surrounding the photos.
When these young persons get out of high school and college, the old records don’t seem to have the same meanings for them as they do for us seniors. As they grow older, however, they do seem to find more interest in the past.
I hate to admit this, but I am the type person who procrastinates on chores until I am pushed into doing something about the problem. Well, that’s what it has come to with the paper work. I had large boxes stacked in my closets, filling them to the extent that we could hardly get our clothes in the closets. So, I could no longer ignore the situation.
Because of my niece’s interest in our family history, we are beginning to realize just how much we do not know. She did have a good starting place when she entered my maternal grandmother’s maiden name as Goostree. I doubt that there are that many persons who claim that name.
Both my grandfathers died at an early age and we do not know much about either of them or their lineage. I was fortunate enough to get to know each of them somewhat, but at my young age at that time, I never took much interest in finding out about them. My dad was the oldest of six children in his family and he was the first to die. Since then, 1989, all of his siblings have passed on, so finding someone with true facts about his family is almost impossible. However, it’s fun to search anyway.
7-22-2009
#444
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Pay Heed to Kids, Seniors
Someone was quoted as saying, “If you would be wise, then cultivate a relationship with children under six and seniors over 70.”
Well, I’ve done both and I must say I’ve learned a lot. Children are so frank and uninhibited, they just say whatever they think without dressing up the language or being subtle.
Seniors have much wisdom to impart, if they can remember these truisms. I find it embarrassing to begin telling something and then forgetting it, before I’ve finished. Often times, it comes back to me, but not always.
For years I looked forward to my 80th birthday because I’d heard that when a person reaches 80, no one expects anything from them. However, I find that people still expect me to get out of bed each morning, wash my face, brush my teeth and comb my hair. Quite often that is as far as I get before I must crash in my recliner for a nap.
In a sense seniors are like children, they don’t try to butter-up people and flatter them just to gain their favor. I would hope that when seniors have something unpleasant to say, they would at least say it kindly.
When my granddaughter Rachel was about five and came to visit us at Woodward, I was putting on my makeup one day and she asked what I was using. “This is Oil of Olay, Rachel.”
She stood back and examined me for a few seconds and then said, “But Mamaw, it’s supposed to make you beautiful.” How about that for being subtle?
One day I was at my daughter Gayle’s house and we were visiting. Several of her granddaughters were there and as Gayle was telling me something, she called me “Mother.”
Lauren who was about five at the time, looked at Gayle and said, “You called her Mother.”
“Yes, Lauren, she is my Mother. Didn’t you know that?”
Lauren looked at Gayle and then at me and replied, “She can’t be your Mother, you’re too old.”
After David had learned to talk, we had a problem with him interrupting adult conversations. One night we had a guest and as we sat at the table, David was telling us something.
Our guest, an elderly man, had a hearing problem and while David was speaking, this man began telling Ray something. David stopped talking and looked at the man and said, “Mr. Mac, Mr. Mac, I was talking first and you just cut right into me.”
One of the remarkable things regarding seniors is that their wisdom mostly comes from experience, so they know whereof they speak.
When my grandma told me some of the things regarding her growing up years, I sat with rapt attention. To me, her life had been so very different from mine. Her stepmother was not the kindest person in the world.
Grandma had to make most of her clothes at night after working in the field all day. She had to sew them by hand, while her step-sisters were allowed to use the sewing machine to make doll clothes.
Looking back, I have much for which to be thankful in my life.
7-16-2009
#443
Well, I’ve done both and I must say I’ve learned a lot. Children are so frank and uninhibited, they just say whatever they think without dressing up the language or being subtle.
Seniors have much wisdom to impart, if they can remember these truisms. I find it embarrassing to begin telling something and then forgetting it, before I’ve finished. Often times, it comes back to me, but not always.
For years I looked forward to my 80th birthday because I’d heard that when a person reaches 80, no one expects anything from them. However, I find that people still expect me to get out of bed each morning, wash my face, brush my teeth and comb my hair. Quite often that is as far as I get before I must crash in my recliner for a nap.
In a sense seniors are like children, they don’t try to butter-up people and flatter them just to gain their favor. I would hope that when seniors have something unpleasant to say, they would at least say it kindly.
When my granddaughter Rachel was about five and came to visit us at Woodward, I was putting on my makeup one day and she asked what I was using. “This is Oil of Olay, Rachel.”
She stood back and examined me for a few seconds and then said, “But Mamaw, it’s supposed to make you beautiful.” How about that for being subtle?
One day I was at my daughter Gayle’s house and we were visiting. Several of her granddaughters were there and as Gayle was telling me something, she called me “Mother.”
Lauren who was about five at the time, looked at Gayle and said, “You called her Mother.”
“Yes, Lauren, she is my Mother. Didn’t you know that?”
Lauren looked at Gayle and then at me and replied, “She can’t be your Mother, you’re too old.”
After David had learned to talk, we had a problem with him interrupting adult conversations. One night we had a guest and as we sat at the table, David was telling us something.
Our guest, an elderly man, had a hearing problem and while David was speaking, this man began telling Ray something. David stopped talking and looked at the man and said, “Mr. Mac, Mr. Mac, I was talking first and you just cut right into me.”
One of the remarkable things regarding seniors is that their wisdom mostly comes from experience, so they know whereof they speak.
When my grandma told me some of the things regarding her growing up years, I sat with rapt attention. To me, her life had been so very different from mine. Her stepmother was not the kindest person in the world.
Grandma had to make most of her clothes at night after working in the field all day. She had to sew them by hand, while her step-sisters were allowed to use the sewing machine to make doll clothes.
Looking back, I have much for which to be thankful in my life.
7-16-2009
#443
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Summer Labor Can Wilt You
How refreshing to awaken to the aroma of grass wet with drops from an evening rain. So unusual, especially in July when we are normally very dry and hot.
When July 4th has come and gone, I always feel like summer is at least half over. This does not mean that the heat index will automatically go down. However, the time before school begins again is peering through the curtains and before we know it, students will be loading up their supplies in backpacks and heading off to classes.
I wonder if other senior adults look back as I do and long for those lazy days of going barefoot, eating watermelon, and spending the afternoon in a pool? Those are some of my best childhood memories. Sitting on the old crank ice cream freezer was a chore we fought over, my sister, brother and I.
In my family we had certain responsibilities and these increased as we grew older, but the chores were fairly well equally divided so we did not feel that we were being put upon.
Mother decided early on that it was easier for her to do the cooking than for my sister or me to mess up the kitchen. We were assigned the duties of washing and drying the dishes after each meal.
I remember complaining about having to dry dishes at home, but often I went to our next-door neighbor’s and if she were doing dishes, I would pick up the dishtowel and begin drying her dishes. I still don’t understand why that did not seem to be a chore.
On really hot days, we girls did not stay out in the heat during the afternoons. The girls usually played jacks, or a board game such as checkers. Boys spent their time playing marbles, but were more likely to get out in the afternoon sun and play baseball, or kick ball.
Once the sun went down, we often times put an old quilt out on the lawn and lay on it watching stars twinkling in the sky. We enjoyed a game of Red Rover, Red Rover, or Hide ‘N Seek. Our parents did not have to worry about where we were because we were usually out in our own front yard.
During weeks when we spent time with our grandparents, we helped gather eggs, fed the chickens and put out water for them. I went to the garden with my grandma and helped her pull up onions, or gather leaf lettuce for our meal. We all loved wilted lettuce and Grandma made lots of that when we visited.
Once when my parents were here, Mother walked up to visit Mrs. Tripp. They went out into Mrs. Tripp’s garden and she gathered enough lettuce for Mother to bring home for our evening meal. Gayle started back home and Mother told her to go ahead and bring the lettuce and she would wilt it when she got here.
Upon her return, Mother saw the lettuce lying limp in the sink. When she questioned Gayle, the reply was, “Grandma, you said we would wilt it, so I put it in there and turned some hot water on it.”
Needless to say, it was wilted.
7-9-2009
#442
When July 4th has come and gone, I always feel like summer is at least half over. This does not mean that the heat index will automatically go down. However, the time before school begins again is peering through the curtains and before we know it, students will be loading up their supplies in backpacks and heading off to classes.
I wonder if other senior adults look back as I do and long for those lazy days of going barefoot, eating watermelon, and spending the afternoon in a pool? Those are some of my best childhood memories. Sitting on the old crank ice cream freezer was a chore we fought over, my sister, brother and I.
In my family we had certain responsibilities and these increased as we grew older, but the chores were fairly well equally divided so we did not feel that we were being put upon.
Mother decided early on that it was easier for her to do the cooking than for my sister or me to mess up the kitchen. We were assigned the duties of washing and drying the dishes after each meal.
I remember complaining about having to dry dishes at home, but often I went to our next-door neighbor’s and if she were doing dishes, I would pick up the dishtowel and begin drying her dishes. I still don’t understand why that did not seem to be a chore.
On really hot days, we girls did not stay out in the heat during the afternoons. The girls usually played jacks, or a board game such as checkers. Boys spent their time playing marbles, but were more likely to get out in the afternoon sun and play baseball, or kick ball.
Once the sun went down, we often times put an old quilt out on the lawn and lay on it watching stars twinkling in the sky. We enjoyed a game of Red Rover, Red Rover, or Hide ‘N Seek. Our parents did not have to worry about where we were because we were usually out in our own front yard.
During weeks when we spent time with our grandparents, we helped gather eggs, fed the chickens and put out water for them. I went to the garden with my grandma and helped her pull up onions, or gather leaf lettuce for our meal. We all loved wilted lettuce and Grandma made lots of that when we visited.
Once when my parents were here, Mother walked up to visit Mrs. Tripp. They went out into Mrs. Tripp’s garden and she gathered enough lettuce for Mother to bring home for our evening meal. Gayle started back home and Mother told her to go ahead and bring the lettuce and she would wilt it when she got here.
Upon her return, Mother saw the lettuce lying limp in the sink. When she questioned Gayle, the reply was, “Grandma, you said we would wilt it, so I put it in there and turned some hot water on it.”
Needless to say, it was wilted.
7-9-2009
#442
Thursday, June 18, 2009
So, What’s in your house?
One of the Wichita Falls television stations begins the evening news coverage with the question, “It’s ten o’clock, do you know where your children are?”
The questions I would ask you today are: Do you know what’s in your house, is it useful, if not, why is it still there?
For several weeks now, I’ve been searching for a certain bank statement. I put it somewhere so I would know exactly where it would be when I needed it, but I have come up short every place I’ve looked.
This is similar to my hiding Band-aids when my children were all little and then not being able to locate them when I needed one. If I left them in the medicine cabinet in plain sight, they soon disappeared. I often told Ray that we would be rich if we had invested in Johnson and Johnson.
But, losing the bank statement has not been all bad. In looking for this document, I’ve been forced to go through my file cabinet and toss out many old and unimportant papers. I’ve been on a roll, shredding some of the paperwork of long ago.
It’s surprising how fast things pile up in a house. I do not refer solely to paperwork, but to many other items. As a young mother, I sewed some for my children and could not resist buying fabric any time I came across some in a store.
Several years ago, I needed some storage space, so I went through all the materials that were still unused and moved them to a large plastic storage box. If Gayle still had time to sew, I would give them to her, but she is too busy for that right now
One of the drawbacks of going through all these records is that each one has to be read or examined in order not to dispose of something that is important. This, my friends, takes time.
Every so often, I find it necessary to go through my little basket where I keep my snail mail. This is a tedious job, because as sure as I throw away an envelope, I need that return address.
There are some things that I cannot part with; things such as baby clothes that my children wore and greeting cards I’ve received over many years. These are such cherished keepsakes, I simply can’t throw them out.
I have passed along to some of my children and grandchildren mother’s and grandma’s pieces of beautiful handwork, even though most of them are showing signs of age.
In her latter years, Mother would say, “I feel sorry for you all when I am gone—there is so much to go through.” She was exactly right. But we made it.
In reference to last week’s column regarding the overload of emails on my computer, maybe it did help some people. Two of my email friends sent me messages that they were going through and deleting large numbers of emails. It is so easy to read a message and leave it on the computer.
As of last night, I had eight unread messages on my computer and only about fifty all together. Sure beats that 17,000 I had on there earlier.
6-17-2009
#439
The questions I would ask you today are: Do you know what’s in your house, is it useful, if not, why is it still there?
For several weeks now, I’ve been searching for a certain bank statement. I put it somewhere so I would know exactly where it would be when I needed it, but I have come up short every place I’ve looked.
This is similar to my hiding Band-aids when my children were all little and then not being able to locate them when I needed one. If I left them in the medicine cabinet in plain sight, they soon disappeared. I often told Ray that we would be rich if we had invested in Johnson and Johnson.
But, losing the bank statement has not been all bad. In looking for this document, I’ve been forced to go through my file cabinet and toss out many old and unimportant papers. I’ve been on a roll, shredding some of the paperwork of long ago.
It’s surprising how fast things pile up in a house. I do not refer solely to paperwork, but to many other items. As a young mother, I sewed some for my children and could not resist buying fabric any time I came across some in a store.
Several years ago, I needed some storage space, so I went through all the materials that were still unused and moved them to a large plastic storage box. If Gayle still had time to sew, I would give them to her, but she is too busy for that right now
One of the drawbacks of going through all these records is that each one has to be read or examined in order not to dispose of something that is important. This, my friends, takes time.
Every so often, I find it necessary to go through my little basket where I keep my snail mail. This is a tedious job, because as sure as I throw away an envelope, I need that return address.
There are some things that I cannot part with; things such as baby clothes that my children wore and greeting cards I’ve received over many years. These are such cherished keepsakes, I simply can’t throw them out.
I have passed along to some of my children and grandchildren mother’s and grandma’s pieces of beautiful handwork, even though most of them are showing signs of age.
In her latter years, Mother would say, “I feel sorry for you all when I am gone—there is so much to go through.” She was exactly right. But we made it.
In reference to last week’s column regarding the overload of emails on my computer, maybe it did help some people. Two of my email friends sent me messages that they were going through and deleting large numbers of emails. It is so easy to read a message and leave it on the computer.
As of last night, I had eight unread messages on my computer and only about fifty all together. Sure beats that 17,000 I had on there earlier.
6-17-2009
#439
Friday, June 12, 2009
Battling an E-mail Overload
I guess it’s confession time for me. For several weeks recently I’ve been having problems with my computer. When I turned on the Outlook Express to receive my emails, the download would begin and sometimes go about halfway. Suddenly, I would get a message that my server had interrupted service for an unknown reason.
The really odd part was that I could still access my Internet Explorer successfully and my Facebook. This was so frustrating and I felt isolated, because I do use my computer to constantly stay in touch with friends and family.
Gayle had some instructions from AT&T that she thought might solve this problem. She stopped by briefly one afternoon and tried this method, but it did not help any. Finally, she came by another day and was checking out my programs when she looked at me and said, “Mother, did you know you have over 17,000 emails stored on here?”
I thought she was joking, but when I looked, there was the BIG number. She began deleting those messages and eventually got them all off. She said, “I bet everyone in Waurika who has the same server as you, will see remarkably better service now.”
Last week after all this had happened, we met several members of our family from the Dallas area for lunch and visiting. We met in Decatur, Texas. Of the nine who were there, I was the oldest. Everyone there, well most of them, was much younger than I am, and when Gayle told these computer-savvy persons what I had done, they could not believe it.
In addition to the large number of stored messages, more than 1900 of them were shown as “unread.” I knew I was far behind with checking my emails, but had no idea that I was so buried in unread messages. Since that time, I have been diligent about reading the new emails and deleting the ones I no longer need to keep.
When we had walked into the restaurant, people looked around and saw four women who had totally gray or white hair. I bet they probably thought it was “happy hour” for seniors. Of course, the younger ones did balance the group somewhat.
A niece in another town teaches computer to elementary grade children. A job she really enjoys. This summer she is teaching some kindergarten children to use the computer. She said one of the little boys in that class, took his thumb out of his mouth and said, “ I really wike computers.”
When Ray worked in Woodward, I volunteered in a transitional class. These were children who had already been through kindergarten, but were not mature enough to go on to first grade. One little boy who was somewhat of a behavioral problem, would really straighten up and change his behavior when the teacher would tell him, “Now Hoover, when you finish your assignment and if you obey the rules, then you can work at the computer.”
He was a fast learner because he was doing what he enjoyed doing. Wish I could learn as fast as these young ones do.
6-10-2009
#438
The really odd part was that I could still access my Internet Explorer successfully and my Facebook. This was so frustrating and I felt isolated, because I do use my computer to constantly stay in touch with friends and family.
Gayle had some instructions from AT&T that she thought might solve this problem. She stopped by briefly one afternoon and tried this method, but it did not help any. Finally, she came by another day and was checking out my programs when she looked at me and said, “Mother, did you know you have over 17,000 emails stored on here?”
I thought she was joking, but when I looked, there was the BIG number. She began deleting those messages and eventually got them all off. She said, “I bet everyone in Waurika who has the same server as you, will see remarkably better service now.”
Last week after all this had happened, we met several members of our family from the Dallas area for lunch and visiting. We met in Decatur, Texas. Of the nine who were there, I was the oldest. Everyone there, well most of them, was much younger than I am, and when Gayle told these computer-savvy persons what I had done, they could not believe it.
In addition to the large number of stored messages, more than 1900 of them were shown as “unread.” I knew I was far behind with checking my emails, but had no idea that I was so buried in unread messages. Since that time, I have been diligent about reading the new emails and deleting the ones I no longer need to keep.
When we had walked into the restaurant, people looked around and saw four women who had totally gray or white hair. I bet they probably thought it was “happy hour” for seniors. Of course, the younger ones did balance the group somewhat.
A niece in another town teaches computer to elementary grade children. A job she really enjoys. This summer she is teaching some kindergarten children to use the computer. She said one of the little boys in that class, took his thumb out of his mouth and said, “ I really wike computers.”
When Ray worked in Woodward, I volunteered in a transitional class. These were children who had already been through kindergarten, but were not mature enough to go on to first grade. One little boy who was somewhat of a behavioral problem, would really straighten up and change his behavior when the teacher would tell him, “Now Hoover, when you finish your assignment and if you obey the rules, then you can work at the computer.”
He was a fast learner because he was doing what he enjoyed doing. Wish I could learn as fast as these young ones do.
6-10-2009
#438
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Mother was One of a Kind
“She (or he) was one of a kind.” Have you ever said this about someone you knew? All of us are different in many ways, but some are different in such unique ways that they stand apart from the rest.
As I have aged, I’ve come to recognize the uniqueness of my mother. She
had such a rare sense of humor and loved to play practical jokes. Her parents rented bedrooms to travelers coming through Boyd. I remember Mother telling of some members of a baseball team staying overnight in their hotel/home. Mother and one of her girl friends went in the boys’ rooms while they were out and stitched the bottoms of their uniform pants. The boys came back in a big hurry to change into their uniforms to begin playing and found this complication.
My sister and I thought Mother was way too strict when we were teens. If we asked to go some place or do something and she refused, we would tell her that “everyone else is going.” Her reply, “If everyone else broke a leg, would you want a broken leg?”
It was comical the way she would shift our ages. If she asked us to do
something we thought was too hard, she would say, “You mean to tell me a big
sixteen year old can’t do that?” However, the next hour when we asked for some special privilege, she came back with, “Do you think I’m going to let a twelve year old go out alone.”
As most mothers, I suppose, she was the travel agent for guilt trips. If she learned that we had mistreated someone or been unkind, she would say, “How would you like to be treated that way?” I always preferred a switching to a verbal dressing down.
And, she was a charter member of the Mothers’ Worry Club. Mother worried about us if we were home or away, about the big things and the little things.
The really amazing thing about all this is that I find myself more like my mother every day. I catch myself saying some of her favorite things, and I even have some of the same opinions she had.
As Erma Bombeck said, “I put my arm in my sweater and out comes my
mother’s arm.” I don’t know if boys and their fathers have this same connection or not, but I hope I have inherited some of my mother’s best traits and characteristics.
I trust that she forgave me for my ungrateful and rebellious years.
6-03-2009
#437
As I have aged, I’ve come to recognize the uniqueness of my mother. She
had such a rare sense of humor and loved to play practical jokes. Her parents rented bedrooms to travelers coming through Boyd. I remember Mother telling of some members of a baseball team staying overnight in their hotel/home. Mother and one of her girl friends went in the boys’ rooms while they were out and stitched the bottoms of their uniform pants. The boys came back in a big hurry to change into their uniforms to begin playing and found this complication.
My sister and I thought Mother was way too strict when we were teens. If we asked to go some place or do something and she refused, we would tell her that “everyone else is going.” Her reply, “If everyone else broke a leg, would you want a broken leg?”
It was comical the way she would shift our ages. If she asked us to do
something we thought was too hard, she would say, “You mean to tell me a big
sixteen year old can’t do that?” However, the next hour when we asked for some special privilege, she came back with, “Do you think I’m going to let a twelve year old go out alone.”
As most mothers, I suppose, she was the travel agent for guilt trips. If she learned that we had mistreated someone or been unkind, she would say, “How would you like to be treated that way?” I always preferred a switching to a verbal dressing down.
And, she was a charter member of the Mothers’ Worry Club. Mother worried about us if we were home or away, about the big things and the little things.
The really amazing thing about all this is that I find myself more like my mother every day. I catch myself saying some of her favorite things, and I even have some of the same opinions she had.
As Erma Bombeck said, “I put my arm in my sweater and out comes my
mother’s arm.” I don’t know if boys and their fathers have this same connection or not, but I hope I have inherited some of my mother’s best traits and characteristics.
I trust that she forgave me for my ungrateful and rebellious years.
6-03-2009
#437
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