are thinking about our mothers. There are some who don't remember their mothers; maybe there's been another maternal figure in their lives, a substitute. There are many whose mothers have passed and we have memories of them that enrich our lives. If you're a mom, my wishes for a fine day that brings you happiness, contentment, pleasures from the very important role you've played.
I remember Mama (yeah, not original but a simple fact) with thankfulness and a sense of wonder at all she could do and did. She had a seventh grade education, and there were things beyond her ken; but she was wise about many things. She was poor, never having financial comfort or security, but rarely complained. I think she may have hated it more because she couldn't give us many physical comforts; but Big Bro and I were loved and nurtured, well-fed physically, emotionally and spiritually.
She was a fine seamstress, something she taught herself I think. She was a wonderful cook, some of which she learned from her mother and Dad's mother. She was patient and kind and long-suffering. A few friends know this story and I know it sounds like part of a script for a 1930's hardship story; but it's true. Mama loved Christmas and made it a warm, lovely holiday every year. Most of it was things she could make, not stuff she bought. Presents were hidden away; cookies and breads and cakes were baked; the tree was cut, put up and decorated; the house was filled with wonderful aromas of spices and oranges and tangerines and a bowl was filled with nuts for our eating enjoyment. Always in the shells with nutcracker and picks there to help us.
When you're scraping together a few dollars for gifts, you're practical by necessity. One year I wanted a particular doll very badly; it was the period of the 'bride' doll, back in the day of the rubber-skinned dolls that came in adorable costumes and were completely unrealistic. But little girls don't know or understand the limitations; they just see the thing they want. I got the doll and along with it a box of clothes, a complete wardrobe, that Mama made. I regret that none of this remains; I used it up, wore it out, and discarded it I suppose as time changed me and my interests.
But the other thing I remember about that year is that Mama wanted a new coat, but didn't get one. I do remember the collar and cuffs on her coat were turned so the more severely worn edges were now the underside. There was a time when this was not an uncommon practice; the laundry would turn collars on shirts or jackets to prolong the life of clothes there were not considered disposable. And I suppose all of our clothese were repaired and patched.
She made everything I wore, up to and including my wedding dress and a trousseau for my first marriage. She was amazing and I loved her for the work and skill she generously contributed, but I did not really appreciate it until I was raising children and knew that I did not have her skill and could not do all she had done.
She's been gone from this world since 1985, but I still find myself in situations in which I know Mama would know what to do if I could ask her. Experience had taught her, as well as the books she loved reading. I give her credit for my love of reading and the genres I enjoy, cookbooks, mysteries, good old-fashioned stories; and her pleasure in the movies from her life span lives on with me as I cherish the 'old' movies that always provide something I hadn't noticed previously and enjoyment in the familiar.
I'm certain my appreciation, though inadequate knowledge, of 20th century history grew from the stories about my childhood, her early years, the background to my world I learned from her experience watching it being shaped. There's no doubt my moral, social, political fiber developed from her sharing what she saw and heard and understood.
It's also true that the lack I saw in her life pushed me to accomplish more than some thought I could, even more than some thought I should. There were family members who thought I was trying to rise above my beginnings, and so I was. Mama and Daddy worked very hard to provide what we had, little or much; I think I knew that the best praise I could give them was to become a better person, learning more and doing well.
There are ways I've done well; much better education than either parent could even imagine. They may not have understood my drive for that; they never actually said. But they were intelligent and I knew if I had any of their ability I should use it. My life was easier than theirs ever was because I grew up understanding and respecting hard work and appreciating whatever I could earn and, frankly, have had more opportunity.
Now I see things about my parents' lives I would not agree with; but we're all human beings trying to get by and I've learned enough to let differences pass and recognize the good we shared and all the right things they taught me.
Happy Mother's Day. Like Lewis Grizzard said, "Call your Mama, I wish I could call mine."
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