Writing My Life

Now and Then


Leave a comment

Mom & Me – Mother’s Day 2014

Unlike many baby-boomers, I am beyond fortunate to still have my “greatest generation”, rascal of a mother with me. At 88-going-on-89, she still makes us laugh at her quick wit and other shenanigans! Case in point: the other afternoon when I set about sorting her pills, I congratulated her for remembering to down her evening menu of pink, white, and yellow-striped capsules. She is faithful in taking her morning allotment, but is hit-and-miss with the latter.

Seconds into my sorting routine, she shyly said, “I’ve done a bad thing.”

Panic rose as several scenarios screamed through my brain, the first being, “OH NO! She took all her night pills at once!” And then “OH NO! She dumped them down the toilet!” (They aren’t exactly cheap!)

But I calmly asked in my sweetest, slightly teasing tone, “What did you do?” (Smile)

“Well, I poured them all into an empty pill bottle,” she said – rather sheepishly, I might add!

“Why? Am I that mean when I tease you about forgetting them?” I asked as I remembered a childhood of hiding empty Jello boxes  after I consumed the contents – “raw” Jello was a precursor to Pixy Sticks in my time.

Like me, I guess she hates “getting into trouble”, and we can both be a little sneaky to avoid that!

One of the sneakiest things she did, however, dates back to spring, 1966. I can’t remember if it was yearbook day or Senior Sluff day, but a bunch of us planned to spend the afternoon at the beach. Yes, there was a beach in Southeastern Idaho – The American Falls Reservoir, not exactly Malibu or Santa Cruz, but somehow, we made it work.

For the occasion, I bought a  2-piece swimming suit. Far from being a bikini, the lime-green and white pleated skirt bottom with daisies covered my belly-button, and though the square neckline was cut a little lower than normal, it was still something Annette Funicello would feel comfortable wearing on a Disney set. At least, I thought so. Unlike popular Jantzen swimsuits of the time, this two-piece was made from a duck-cloth type material, and I paid a pretty penny for it at Fargo’s Department Store where I worked part-time. I think I put out $25!!!

After the purchase, I took it home and modeled it for Mom and Dad who smiled approvingly. Or so I thought. A few mornings later when I headed out the door to my day of high school adventure, I grabbed my beach bag packed with towels, baby oil, and the new swimsuit. When we arrived at the beach – a rather cool, windy Idaho day, as I recall – the girls had to change into their suits in cars, a dubious affair that required performing acrobatics under beach towels.

While twisting and turning to get into mine, I realized that it was not exactly the  one I bought! The 2-piece had been modified! Yes, it was green and white with a pleated-skirt bottom, but the top was different! It was still white, edged with green piping, but it was cut higher, and a row of matching green buttons ran along a seam that marked the addition of more white duck-cloth to raise the neckline!

Shaking my head in disbelief, I was shocked, but not upset. It was adorable! Mom had jazzed up a rather plain top into something fun as well as modest. And she had performed such a professional job that no one could tell I did not buy it that way.

I don’t remember the discussion that night as I talked with Mom, but something tells me that when I modeled my purchase for her and Daddy and then bent over to retrieve the shopping bags, she knew changes needed to be made before I paraded my swimsuit-clad body across the sands of the American Falls reservoir in the spring of 1966. I presume she thought I would be angry with her so she decided to seek forgiveness instead of permission. Yes, she is sneaky like that. Thanks, Mom!


1 Comment

… may be LOW-TECH, but homemade Mother’s Day cards are still the best … revisiting a 2011 post

Life being what it is, I decided to repost an entry from a year ago. I’ve also added a comment I entered on FaceBook this morning because I know many moms and non-moms don’t like this day that has been set aside for women. P.S. I revised a couple of phrases from the original FB post.

About Mother’s Day! I decided a LONG time ago that I’ll opt for being loved throughout the year rather than counting on ONE day of spoiling to make up for whatever I think I was short-changed. In other words, if I don’t get breakfast in bed or dawn to dusk attention, I’m just  fine. I am fortunate because I have a great family who loves me – warts and all – 365 days a year. And I love my darling mother 365 days a year! Have a great Mother’s Day – whatever it brings. Love to ALL WOMEN!

2011 ~ This past week I received an email from JibJab – the site where you grab some photos and lop off the heads of friends and family and stick them on the site’s videos or postcards for a hilarious effect. JibJab has all kinds of funny options customers could send their moms, and I will probably send one to my mom.

However, I couldn’t help but think about cards I used to make for her. Here are a couple I created for Mom in 1956 and 1957 or ’58. You will notice the “clip art” is either non-existent or lacking and Spellcheck failed to correct a few words, but the sentiments – strange as they might be came from my 7 and 8 year-old-heart.  Well, maybe I “copied and pasted” one or two lines for the first poem.

Connie and I probably created this poem in 1958 when I was in third grade. I was still writing “r’s” like Mrs. Quidor and the Palmer method taught me.

I went to a little more effort to create this card when I was in 4th grade in 1959. The front of the card is on the left and the inside verse is on the right. I even included a little Hallmark logo on the back to make it official! After all, didn’t card companies create Mother’s Day? (By the way, neither of these creations were school assignments!)

Because of the drawing, complete with halo AND horns, as well as the guilt-ridden verse, I have to guess that I must have gotten into some big trouble a day or two before Mother’s Day!

My mother NEVER hurt my EAR, but hey, it rhymed with DEAR!

Notice the “horns” on the anGLE’s head holding up her halo. Interesting.


1 Comment

… maybe Hallmark cards hit the mark sometimes …

I read this remark when perusing a column in a London online paper of sorts:

There would be no Hallmark cards or fancy brunches for her on this day. She claimed that Mother’s Day was a manufactured holiday and that she would only ever accept one gift: flowers plucked from the field and plunked into a jelly jar, along with a homemade card. My sisters and I were happy to oblige. ~ Amy Dickinson

And while I agree in the beauty of simplicity, I have to appreciate my darling husband’s diligence in finding just the right card, and yes, it’s often a Hallmark. He spends a fair amount of time reading the verses, and doesn’t stop until he finds one that either brings him to tears or makes him laugh out loud.

This year’s Mother’s Day card brought forth tears:

Love means trusting myself with someone 

who has seen me at my worst

and loves me anyway. It means teasing each other

and laughing at inside jokes

nobody but us understands.

It means feeling safe enough to talk about anything

and having the patience to work out disagreements.

Love means counting on someone who sympathizes when I’ve had a bad day, 

worries about me when I’m gone too long,

and always welcomes me with open arms.

Love means so many things 

because to me, love is you.

He added, “I love you in so many ways! You are my life and purpose for living.”

And I am a most fortunate woman.


1 Comment

… may be LOW-TECH, but homemade Mother’s Day cards are still the best …

This past week I received an email from JibJab – the site where you grab some photos and lop the heads of friends and family and stick them on site’s videos or postcards for a hilarious effect. The site had all kinds of funny options customers could send their moms, and I will probably send one to my mom.

However, I couldn’t help but think about cards I used to make for her. Here are a couple I created for Mom in 1956 and 1957 or ’58. You will notice the “clip art” is either non-existent or lacking and Spellcheck failed to correct a few words, but the sentiments – strange as they might be came from my 7 and 8 year-old-heart.  Well, maybe I “copied and pasted” one or two lines for the first poem.

Connie and I probably created this poem in 1958 when I was in third grade. I was still writing "r's" like Mrs. Quidor and the Palmer method taught me.

I went to a little more effort to create this card when I was in 4th grade in 1959. The front of the card is on the left and the inside verse is on the right. I even included a little Hallmark logo on the back to make it official! After all, didn’t card companies create Mother’s Day? (By the way, neither of these creations were school assignments!)

Because of the drawing, complete with halo AND horns, as well as the guilt-ridden verse, I have to guess that I must have gotten into some big trouble a day or two before Mother’s Day!

My mother NEVER hurt my EAR, but hey, it rhymed with DEAR!

Notice the "horns" on the anGLE's head holding up her halo. Interesting.


Leave a comment

thinking of grandmothers

Mom, Uncle Lloyd, and Aunt Wyoma

 

 Yesterday I took Mom to celebrate my Aunt Wyoma’s 90th birthday. While there, I chatted with Uncle Lloyd. These three are the remaining children of my grandparent’s 9 sons and 4 daughters. Last year, Mom wrote the first installment of her personal history, and so we talked often of her mother and father and her growing-up years in southern Idaho. Their lives were hard, especially in comparison to my own.    

Sometimes I have a difficult time realizing how much has changed in just a couple of generations – more than fashions or hairstyles, homes or cars, technology or pop culture. I’m thinking about my grandmother’s way of life compared to my own. Interestingly, I recently read a paragraph in a novel that lists some housewives’ duties as rendered in 1940. While the plot of Philip Roth’s fiction of alternate history has VERY LITTLE to do with the direction my reverie, I decided the author’s description extends beyond that of a  Jewish  neighborhood in Newark, NJ. I could picture both of my grandmothers performing every listed task plus more in their little Mormon homes in Idaho.        

Roth writes:        

The men worked fifty, sixty, even seventy or more hours a week; the women worked all the time with little assistance from labor-saving devices, washing laundry, ironing shirts, mending socks, turning collars, sewing on buttons, moth-proofing woolens, polishing furniture, sweeping and mopping floors, washing windows, cleaning sinks, tubs, toilets and stoves, vacuuming rugs, nursing the sick, shopping for food, cooking meals, feeding relatives, tidying closets and drawers, overseeing paint jobs and household repairs, arranging for religious observances, paying bills and keeping the family books while simultaneously attending to their children’s health, clothing, cleanliness, schooling, nutrition, conduct, birthdays, discipline and morale.        

As I perused the long list, I pictured how much time women devoted to performing these responsibilities. I do SOME of these things, but modern conveniences have stripped away much of the drudgery.        

Grandma's was a gray version of this one.

 

For example, Mom related that for much of her married life,  my grandma heated water for washing clothes on a “boiler” that she placed over two plates on the stove to heat the water. In 1940, Mom’s parents purchased a Maytag washer. I can’t even imagine what a thrill that must have been for her.        

Nevertheless, my grandmothers and my mother hung clothes on lines to dry as did I when I was first married. Dryers weren’t part of their households for a very long time, but I didn’t go without that luxury for more than 5 or 6 years. G.E.’s mom NEVER purchased a dryer. She loved the freshness of hung-dried sheets, towels, shirts, etc. in spite of their starched-like stiffness!        

This Ironrite looks like Grandma Barrett's

 

In the 1950s, I thought Grandma B. was rich because she owned an Ironrite, an automatic roller iron, also called a Mangle! (What kind of name is that for an appliance that was supposed to make life easier?) I watched her feed sheets, pillowcases, DISHTOWELS, hankies, dresses, blouses, shirts, and slacks between the two giant rollers with a deftness that I admired. I dared not stand too close, however, because I was afraid the monster might grab hold of my little hand and press it flat!        

Additionally, one grandmother served as president of the Relief Society, the women’s auxiliary of our church, for 8 years! My other grandma played the organ for Sunday meetings for many, many years. Grandma H. often assisted Grandpa in hanging wallpaper – one of his many jobs that included carpentry, butchery, dry farming, and mechanics. And Grandma B. organized her children into a family dance band to help bring in extra money.        

Both Rebecca and Ethyl were amazing women that I still adore across the decades and into the eternities. God bless them!   

Note: I’m a fan of The Writer’s Corner (and also what I ate today), written by Ann Cannon, and so I’m sort of taking her lead by adding a “page” to this blog – “and what I read today!” So if you want a little info about what held my interest via hard copy OR audio copy, go HERE to read what I think of The Plot Against America by Philip Roth.