Memory Monday: Happy Birthday, Mother

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOTHER

Me and My Mother

I came across this picture recently. I’m not sure exactly when it was taken, but by our hair color and the furniture, it was taken a good 30-35 years ago. I have no idea what we are laughing about, but it has become my favorite picture of my mother and me.

A few years after my father died, Mother moved to the town where my family and I lived. My son was about eighteen months old then and she passed away when he was in college. Mother and I went from through the stages of her helping me out (watching my kids, helping me with my household chores, etc.) to friends (running around shopping, going to garage sales, having lunches together, etc.) to me helping her out (making sure she took her medicine, taking her to the doctor and reminding her of what he or she said to do, driving her around because her eyesight wasn’t the best).

I never understood what people meant when they said they were “ready to go” but I think at the end my mother was to that point. She lived in her own home, kept house (sort of), and worked outside with her flowers. But the thing I remember most about her for the last couple of years she was here was the look in her eyes. They had an emptiness about them. She never talked about dying, but I believe she was ready. She had pre-paid her funeral and had a will prepared leaving all she had left on earth to her children. She loved God, knew that Jesus had died for her sins and that she would live with God for eternity. With that, she was at peace.

Today is Mother’s birthday. It gives me peace to know that she is with her husband and baby son who died without ever feeling his mother’s arms around him. It gives me peace to know that sometime in the future, I will see all of them again.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOTHER!!! You are still so loved.

Throwback Thursday: 2 Women

Lady on the right—“We use homemade lye soap to keep our cuffs, collars, and hats so-o-o white.”

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Memory Monday: My Mother, the Seamstress

My mother in 1947

MY MOTHER, THE SEAMSTRESS OF THE FAMILY

As long as I can remember, my mother sewed. She had an old treadle Singer sewing machine when I was growing up. Later, she got an electric one. She made a lot of her children’s clothes—after all, there were four girls in the family. She sewed my wedding dress, as well as my brides’ maids dresses. Even after I married, she made many things for me. One time when she and my father came for a visit, she brought me 10 pantsuits (OK, that happened in the 70s), all with coordinating shells that she had also sewn. After my father passed away, she moved to the same town where my family lived. After that, “Grandma will fix it” became a common saying around our house if you had a button come off or a seam rip. She sewed all the patches on my daughter’s Girl Scout uniforms, as well as my son’s Boy Scout patches—and that was a lot since he became an Eagle Scout.

Well, the years have passed and my mother’s gone. And the mantle had to eventually move from one generation to another. I knew how to sew—I took Home Ec for three years and made a very pretty green suit. After I married, I even made my husband an unlined suit—he wore it often. But I never really liked sewing. No, that’s not true—I hate sewing!!!

I was thrilled when our daughter wanted a sewing machine. So for her birthday a while back, we got her one. I figured out it operated and planned to teach her. I also asked if I could keep it for a little bit to repair something (I can’t remember what that was now since this happened a couple of years ago. But that’s another story.) Since I had the machine, she asked me if I could repair her husband’s pants. She brought a couple of pairs to my house and it only took me two years to get them fixed. He has his pants back as of last week, and maybe, my daughter will learn to sew this summer.

If not, I may have to wait until my two-year-old granddaughter gets old enough to sew and then the saying will be “Sophie can fix it.” 

Throwback Thursday: Three Fancy Women

From my "old and known" file:

Lady in the middle—All right, girls. Time for the fashion show.

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Memory Monday: Teaching Table Manners to Children

My Great-grandparents

TEACHING TABLE MANNERS TO CHILDREN

Teaching manners has always been important. As I have gathered information from the 1800s for my historical website and my “reprinted” historical magazine, I have come across many books on etiquette. The following is from The Ladies Repository, dated 1865. Knowing from raising my own children, some of the easiest ways to teach are in rhyme. My great-grandmother (pictured above with her husband and children) was born in 1862. I wonder if her mother taught her the rhyme below, or if she taught it to her children.

In silence I must take my seat;

And give God thanks before I eat;

Must for my food in patience wait

Till I am asked to hand my plate;

I must not scold, nor whine, nor pout,

Nor move my chair or plate about;

With knife, or fork, or napkin ring,

I must not play—nor must I sing;

I must not speak a useless word;

For children must be seen—not heard;

I must not talk about my food,

Nor fret if I don't think it good;

My mouth with food I must not crowd,

Nor while I'm eating speak aloud;

Must turn my head to cough or sneeze,

And when I ask, say, "If you please;"

The table-cloth I must not spoil,

Nor with my food my fingers soil:

Must keep my seat when I am done,

Nor round the table sport or run:

When told to rise, then I must put

My chair away with noiseless foot,

And lift my heart to God above,

In praise for all his wondrous love.

I know that when my daughter was little, we read the book, I Live in the City ABC, so many times that we could recite it from memory—as we often did when we were driving around doing errands. Maybe my great-great-grandmother or my great-grandmother said it enough to their children that they could recite it when they were out in the garden picking beans or hoeing weeds. 

Throwback Thursday: Little Girl at Christmas

From my "Old and Known" File:

Little girl—Look what I got for Christmas!

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Memory Monday: Repeating Dates

My Mother

INTERESTING HOW DATES KEEP REPEATING IN OUR FAMILY

My mother was born in January (many years ago). I never could remember which day of the month—the 30^th or the 31^st. When I said that to my mother one time, she said she was born on the same day as Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

That has gotten me to thinking how other dates seem to repeat for those in my family. My parents married on July 16^th—the same day of the month that my dad’s sister and her husband had married a couple of years before. And if you think they planned it that way, you would be wrong. My parents only knew each other for about six weeks when they decided to marry. On July 15^th, they (along with another couple who would act as witnesses) went to get married, but there was some problem (I don’t remember what it was not). They had to wait until the next day and they tried it again. This time the deed was done.

February 15^th is another date that is another special date in our family. On that day, my parents-in-law married, a niece was born, as was my granddaughter.

August 12^th is yet another date that is the birthday of two members of my family—my grandfather and my son.

Do any dates keep repeating in your family?

Throwback Thursday: Man in front of a Car's Wheel

From my "old and known" file

Man kneeling—“Think anyone will notice if I take this?”

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Memory Monday: Missing My ParentsM

My parents in 1959

MISSING MY PARENTS

Early last month, I asked a friend what he and his wife planned for Christmas. Were they going to visit their kids and grandson? He said no. They were going to visit their parents. This stirred something in me that I haven’t felt in long, long time.

My father has been gone for more than 30 years, and my mother passed away over 12 years ago. Ever since that conversation with my friend, I have had an intense longing to talk to my parents—stronger than I have ever felt before. Now, often during the day, I catch myself thinking of something and wondering what one of my parents would have said about it. I miss my parents more now than at any time since they died.

For now (and for as long as God allows me to live here on Earth), I have a lot to look forward to with my family—more years with my husband, the shared love of our children, the wonder of our granddaughter and hopefully seeing her into adulthood, and maybe more books of mine published.

But something has shifted. I now look forward with a longing to that time when I will be with those who have gone before me. At that time, I won’t be concerned about how they survived in the Great Depression, the differences between the way I make ice cream and the way my mother did, or even “boasting” about how many books I published. No, at that time, it will be a time of reunion—marvelous reunion with those I love and haven’t seen in years.

Even though I’m in my mid-60s, I have a better understanding of “old” folks when they say they are ready to “pass over.” There is just something comforting in knowing that there are others “on the other side” just waiting for us.