Mother's Day

OK, I'm gonna get a bit maudlin here...

Happy Mothers Day to all the Moms out there.  Mine left in 2010.  She was a good one.  I mean, I read newspaper advice columns and some people have weird or crazy ones, but mine was pretty good.  She attended university, met my Dad the first week, and they never parted.  She taught me stuff.

I'm not one of those people who recall infancy, so I kind of start around age 4.  She taught me letters and reading; I could read simple stuff before kindergarden and I had a library card by age 6.  The love of reading has lasted all my life.

But just knowing letters and words isn't everything.  She encouraged me to write as well.  I cringe thinking about how poor those earliest efforts were, but she appreciated them of course.  And when I went out into the world on my own, we maintained a lifetime of exchanging letters until Parkinson's and dementia took away her abilities.

Our letters were full of humor, puns, parody-poems, and of course the usual personal news.  She would sometimes sent me the wording of party invitations (she threw good theme parties) after the fact (I lived too far away to attend).  They were clever, subtle, and poetic.  I would reply in kind as if I was accepting the invitation.  She often expressed regret that none of her attendees answered her creative invitations  in kind as I did.  

Language skills run in her family.  One sister was an analyst for the 'Webster's Third International Dictionary (1976, I think).  

Mom and I never met a pun we couldn't appreciate.  And when it came to even crude humor, if the wordplay was good, we overlooked the content, valuing the cleverness.  I get in trouble for that sometimes these days, as content is viewed more critically.

She was very creative.  One year, for a costume party, she had Dad make her a hat with a 4" brim and used our small plastic set of Romans (we always had educational toys) to re-create the chariot race from the movie Ben-Hur.  I think she also staged a dinosaur hat, but that was earlier and my memory is not certain.  But it is the kind of thing she WOULD have done.

She loved cats.  It's probably why I have them living with me today.  Her parents had dogs.  Mom preferred cats.  Her first was named 'Kittigree".  Later we had siamese females.  Kenani and Hai Yu sequentially.  I think that means "pretty little girl" in different languages.  She never wanted more than one at a time though.  Maybe that was a negotiation with Dad.  But that's why I finally got Ayla.  It just seemed right to finally have a female siamese when I found her.

She took me around the yard when I was a child, showing me bird nests and plants.  She knew where they were because she put out small lengths of red yarn for the birds to use in building their nests.  

She taught me to play games.  I'm sure she sufferred having to play Candyland and Chutes&Ladders at first when I could barely understand rules, but as I learned, we advanced to cards and Scrabble.  She taught me to play chess.  And like writing and reading, that has stayed with me all my years.

Funny quick mention:  When Mom couldn't beat me at chess anymore (I'm guessing when I was 10), she handed me over to Dad for my improvement at the game.  Let me assure you that she played to win once I learned the rules.  Dad was good with games too.  But when I started to beat him routinely around 12, he stopped.  He hated losing.  Don't worry, I'll be kinder to him on Fathers Day.  ;)

Mom was a dancer and a thesbian at university.  She once led opposite of (and if I get this wrong it one of those memories I never get right) Broderick Crawford.  I've tried to research that a few times but the university website doesn't have a good record of its late 1940s plays.  I remember seeing a "professional picture" of her from back then, but it is lost to history.

Mom taught me to listen to classical and Broadway music.  I have no musical skills, but music stays id my mind almost perfectly.  I used to win bets in the dorm about "the next line".  I know the next high note and the slight inflection of a word to be sung.  I love that and Mom is the reason I do.

Mom taught me to cook.  It probably mattered that I was the eldest child, so naturally the first to be able to help in the kitchen, but I also did it by interest and my younger siblings were not as interested.  I remember reading once that "If you like to eat pork, you have to get down in the mud and keep the hogs happy".  Meaning basically, if you like to eat, you should know where food comes from and how to prepare it.  I was Mom's sou chef for my teenage years.  

There is something about a kitchen I love to this day.  Spending time preparing fresh foods seems satisfying and productive.  Sure, it started by mashing potatoes and peeling carrots, but I learned more as the years passed.  Oddly, Mom was not a very good cook...  I am a far better one than she ever was.  But I might not have been if she hadn't encouraged me to help with the simple stuff.

So here is a tale of 2 grammas.  Paternal gramma was Pennsylvannia Duetch (German-Amish).  She was a great cook.  She and grampa had a small farm.  We would sit on the back porch and de-string beans and de-silk corn, etc, and I would help in the kitchen.  She often made stewed chicken with dumplings (I can't make a dumpling).  Simple basic food and I suppose it is defined as "farmhouse" now.

The Maternal gramma never met a vegetable that couldn't be boiled to death.  Grey Brussel Sprouts, yellow carrots.  She even boiled all the meat.  Mom did a BIT better than that, but she learned her cooking habits from her Mom.  Steak or spaghetti nights were appreciated and also when Dad grilled outside.  The day I discovered Chinese food was one of my happiest days as a teen.  The day I discovered steaming was good too.  Crispness was a new concept.

So no one is perfect...

But I miss Mom.  I suspect that is why I am here writing now.  20 years ago, I would have been writing Mom a letter (I blither on a telephone) instead of posting here.  

I don't have many pictures of her, but I do have a couple.

Iza wasn't THAT big; Mom was short.  And it's a camera angle thing too.

But this is my favorite.

Happy Mothers Day, Mom...