Wednesday’s Words of Wisdom (and Whimsy)

Posted on May 4, 2022 under Wednesday’s Words of Wisdom with one comment

My mom at 89. Never one to turn down an adventure

 

M – is for the million things she gave me

O – means only that she’s growing old

T – is for the tears she shed to save me

H – is for her heart of purest gold

E- is for her eyes with love-light shining

R – means right and right she’ll always be

Put them altogether they spell MOTHER

A word that means the world to me.

There is not enough space on this page to say everything that I could say about mothers. In fact, I could simply put the word “mother” on a blank page and let you fill it in yourself. But that would be slothful on my part. Imagine, “mailing it in” on the eve of Mother’s Day.

Some of you are lucky. You still have your mom’s around to guide you, to inspire you and, yes, even tell you what you should be doing! Most of our moms were warriors and didn’t put up with a lot of guff. You always knew exactly where you stood. Most often, it was the “look” that ended any contentious discussion. Sometimes it was the end of a yard stick. Words weren’t necessary.

How did they do it? The longer I live, the more I am in awe of mothers, especially my mother’s generation. Now, luckily, young mothers won’t be reading this post. They’re far too busy trying to be everything to everybody, otherwise I might have hundreds of them standing outside my apartment window banging on pots and pans, fuming at me for suggesting that they don’t work every bit as hard as their grandmas.

I don’t think many could argue that we are unlikely to encounter another generation of women like those who started having babies after the war and kept having them. Four children was just a starter family in the 1950s. Six to eight children was the norm or so it seemed on our street. Maybe there was something in the water. There were also very large families of 12 and more.

In 2022 things have changed but I think it is safe to say that mom’s still do the majority of the heavy lifting when it comes to parenting, so that hasn’t changed.

In the 1950s and 1960s, most moms stayed at home and received no compensation for 18 hours of hard labour. They were up at the crack of dawn getting the bread started. Like a strict drill sergeant, they got the troops out of bed, into the bathroom and off to school. Then they did the first of a dozen loads of laundry while the bread was rising. After putting the clothes through the wringer washer, they hung the clothes on the line. In winter, blue jeans stood at attention on the clothesline like good soldiers.

We lived in town which meant we went home for lunch. Our lunch was actually dinner so in between baking and laundry, our moms had time to make a complete meal, typically meat and potatoes, along with a freshly baked dessert. After we ate, it was down on our knees to say a few decades of the rosary to keep us pure and holy! That strategy didn’t work so well for some of us!

I don’t know about your mom, but ours ironed every stitch of clothing (and clothes, sheets and pillowcases) so in all likelihood, that consumed an entire afternoon. Rinse and repeat 7 days a week. Supper, homework, bedtime stories. I’m exhausted just writing this. Where did they get the energy to do this every day, 365 days a year? They were our doctors. Besides patching up cuts and bruises, they helped to heal many a broken heart as we learned about first love. They got us ready for Sunday mass on Saturday night. I can still see all of us polishing our shoes with the Chronicle Herald underneath the shoes to keep the shoe polish off the table. Sergeant general mom marched us smartly down the aisle on Sunday. I don’t know who we feared most. God, Monseigneur Gallivan or mom?

Special occasions required more energy. Easter, Valentine’s Day, Halloween all required planning. Nobody executed these quite like our moms. And then there was Christmas. How did they shop for 10 people, wrap everything, hide everything, do the Christmas baking, prepare a turkey dinner, go to midnight mass and then go again on Christmas morning?

One would think that our moms would have put their feet up and enjoyed the fruits of their labours after all the chicks had left the nest but many of them decided to take their talents and organizational skills out into the workforce.

When mom was in her late 80s, I often asked her how she was possibly able to do what she had done. She would look at me and say, “I’d do it all again”.

Now, some men are not quite so sentimental about Mother’s Day. They are far more passionate about their trucks than they would ever be about their moms, wives and children. In addition to the hundreds of angry women, I’ll probably have a convoy of pissed off guys in their Ford -150s or Silverados parked outside my door, leaning on their horns while blasting Waylon Jennings on their radios.

Do you need proof?

M – is for the mudflaps you give me for my pickup truck

O – is for the oil I put on my hair

T – is for T-bird

H – is for Haggard

E – is for eggs

R – is for redneck

Up against the wall redneck mother,

Mother who has raised her son so well,

He’s thirty-four and drinking in a honky tonk,

Kicking hippies’ asses and raising hell.

Up Against the Wall Redneck Mother – Jerry Jeff Walker

Hint. “Momma, don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys.”

I wondered about adding this last, slightly irreverent tune by Jerry Jeff Walker.

Mom would have loved it.

In addition to all her wonderful traits, she also had a great sense of humour.

Happy Mother’s Day to all moms out there, whether they are standing beside us in person or deeply imbedded in our memories.

Mom remains my conscience.

If I’m thinking of doing something sketchy, the “look” magically appears.

Have a great weekend.