First of all, to all you "Moms" out there..."Happy Mother's Day!" All Moms are very special and I have to agree with Sally Field when she said "If Moms ruled the world, there'd be no wars!" Of course, she laced it with some pretty "salty" words in which my Mom would have made her eat a cake of soap.
My Mom was a "stay at home" Mom. She never worked outside the home (other than volunteer or church work) while me or my brother lived at home. This was the biggest part of twenty-six years since I was still living there when I got married. Sure, I wandered up north for a few years and did a stint in the military but home was 503 Park Street for the biggest part of twenty-six years (followed by another thirty one at 505 Park Street).
In their later life, my parents closely resembled Archie and Edith Bunker. Dad was very opinionated about political issues (although he'd tell you he hated politics) and Mom was sort of passive. She "ruled" the television during the weekdays and Dad took control in the evenings and weekends (especially Sunday afternoons). For some reason, Dad liked operas, even the foreign language kind. I guess he appreciated the music and it didn't matter if he didn't understand the plot or even what a song was about. If you wanted to see an opera, you could only get them on KET, Kentucky's version of PBS (Public Broadcasting System). Usually for one night a week an opera would be on for a couple of hours.
Every one had assigned seats in our living room. The house (and the living room) was small so things had to be arranged to accomodate not only our family of four (plus usually a dog), but also for any guests or neighbors who might unexpectedly drop by. Dad always commandeered the couch. Directly at the "head" of the couch (the opposite end from the television) was a small round table and lamp, and beside it was Mom's upholstered rocking chair. I couldn't begin to guess how many afghans were crocheted in that chair over the years. A couple of feet to Mom's left was another chair, a maple rocking chair for either Bub or myself or any guest that might appear. If we had more than one guest, everyone just stayed in the dining room, which sat six people. Depending on whether Bub or I first got the maple rocker, the other one would simply lay on the floor with a pillow. It was a pretty cozy situation.
Of course, in the early days there was no "remote" so to change the channel, someone had to get up and turn the knob until they found out what they wanted to watch. I remember how mad it used to make us boys when Dad would get up click the channel one click and then stand in front of the television waiting to see if he approved of what was on. This took about two or three minutes per channel.
I can think of countless times Bub and I would be outside playing with some neighbor kids and would come in around dark. Mom would be sitting in her chair crocheting and a Russian opera would be on television. The words to the plot were "dubbed" at the bottom of the screen.
Dad would be asleep on the couch. In a low voice, I'd ask Mom why she was watching that and she'd say "I'm not but your Dad is!" "Yeah, right!" I'd slip up to the TV and quietly slip the channel over a notch or two and immediately Dad would awaken and say "Hey, Boy.. put that back on my opera...I'm watching that!" Bub and I would then go down in the basement and play leaving Mom to spend the rest of the evening listening to a combination of a Russian opera and "Dad's snoring!" She never complained.
Mom was sort of the vice-disiplinerian in our family. It was her job to keep law and order. When it became too difficult, she would then summon Dad to take over. This only had to happen for about two or three years. After that she only had to "threaten" to get Dad. Mom probably "whipped" us a hundred times in our formative years. Dad only "whipped" us once each, but you never forgot his "whippings." After that, he only had to give us that "I'm out of patience" look and we fell in line. Mom was always having to whip us but I can't ever remember it hurting.
I remember she used to send us out in the yard to get our own switch when we were really bad. Most of the time we'd go out and by the time we brought one back in, she'd just shake it at us and threaten that if we "ever did that again" she'd "beat the living tar" out of us (I never really knew what that meant...I just knew it couldn't be good!).
Over the years I couldn't help but notice that Mom made sure that every one of us filled our plates before she filled hers. She was careful not to take the last portion of anything. If there was a tablespoon of mashed potatoes left in the bowl when it reached her, she'd take half a tablespoon, insuring that some was left for us. She never got the best piece of fried chicken because it was pretty picked over when she got her portion. Luckily for her, Dad had trained me to savor the "gizzard" and the "neck" at an early age or she would have been stuck with those pieces. Actually, I didn't know that this was a "trait" of most Moms until I became a father myself and saw my wife do the same. That's when I learned that it "went with the territory."
My mom was a funny person. When I say that, I mean funny in the sense of humor. She (along with her sister Ruby) could get herself into some situations that would rival Lucille Ball. I remember once that she and Ruby went shopping over at Owensboro on a Saturday afternoon. They went in Ruby's Corvair which had no air conditioning. On the return trip, as they were going down the "Island Levy" (a straight stretch south of Island, Kentucky that's about a mile long), an owl flew inside the cab of the car. Because the back windows were rolled up, it couldn't find itself a way out so it flew frantically around inside the cab. Making matters worse, Mom and Ruby kept "swatting" at it and Ruby was weaving back and forth on the road trying to stay out of the ditches on each side and "feathers were going everywhere!" This went on for what seemed like an eternity before she finally got the car stopped. When she did, they jumped out only to find the poor bird laying in the back seat "exhausted" and nearly "naked." A truck driver picked the poor bird out of the car and took him to the side of the road where he finally "hopped" over to a line of trees and managed to climb up to one of the lower limbs.
After I got married and was working at Lester Motors, I would usually go out to the house and have lunch with Mom. She would always prepare a meal (usually eggs and bacon) and we'd share conversation while I ate. Promptly at 12:30 pm, even if I was in the middle of a story, she would then retire to the living room to watch "As the World Turns." I don't believe she missed a single show for forty years. She knew all of the characters by name and whose illegitimate child was fathered by which doctor. It was unbelieveable. I'd go in the living room and watch about ten minutes of it with her (which was all I could take) and she'd tell me that the Doctor was the father of that nurse's child but the patient they were tending to was the unknown father of the Doctor by the nurse's sister. The nurse had a "contract to kill" on the life of the Doctor because he also fathered her daughter's baby. I remember once I was watching a portion of it with her and some guy shot another guy and he fell across an "ottoman" in the living room of this apartment and died there. Pat and I went on vacation and for some reason or another, I didn't get back out to Mom's house for lunch for about three weeks. When I did, I ventured into the living room where "As the World Turns" was on and here was this poor clown still laying across the "ottoman." I couldn't help but wonder if the actor, who had probably gone to acting school for years, enjoyed going to work knowing that was what he would be doing for the next several weeks. What a Country!
Dads were different than Moms. We kids were always "booking fights" for our Dads by saying "I'll bet my Dad can "Whip" your Dad," but I never once heard anyone say "I'll bet my Mom can "Whip" your Mom!" It just doesn't sound right. My Dad worked a lot and a lot of it involved night work. He liked working in the yard and garden, something we kids didn't care for. Seems he always had a project going on and we were always busy playing down at the park or swimming pool. Mom was always a big part of our life though. It was her that made us take baths or do homework. She's the one who made sure we didn't "cuss" (at least in hearing distance of her) or burn down the house (although I did burn down the bedroom of my Grandmother's house once, but's a different story for a future blog). Moms made sure we went to Church. Mom's are the ones that sewed our jeans or ironed on those patches on the knees that "got another six months wear" out of them. Moms are the ones that tended to and comforted us when were sick and made sure we "stayed sick" after school let out. Moms were Taxi drivers, Doctors, Mediators, Seamstresses, Janitors, Wardens and Guidance Counselors all rolled up into one.
I'm sure many of you remember when the telephone service around here had no dial service. You simply picked up the receiver, and operator at the other end of the line said "Number Please," and you gave her a number. Pretty simple, huh? We used to go to the State Theater every Saturday for the matinee. It ran all day and we pretty much stayed all day. The show opened at 10AM on Saturdays and we'd usually stay until around 4 or 5 pm. When the show was over, instead of walking home (it was about a mile or so), we'd find a public phone and call Mom to come and get us. We used to do this at the old D & W Cafe (that's where I first saw the Everly Brothers). When they closed, we would walk up to the Tastee Freeze (across from the old City Building). Only thing was, the only phone in the Tastee Freeze was a pay phone. We'd go in there and pick up the receiver and the conversation would go like this:
"Number Please?" asked the operator. "476-R please!" (that was actually our phone number). "Theenk Youuu!," she'd say. The phone would ring a couple of times and Mom would answer "Hellllooo!" The operator would then interupt with "One Moment Please...Deposit Five Cents!"
Having spent all of our money, we'd simply yell into the phone...."MOM-TASTEEFREEZE-COMEPICKUSUP!!!" About five minutes later, here'd she come. Of course she never told us that the nickel was charged to her phone, and she never told Dad either or he'd have "whipped" us for "stealing!"
Mom's gone now but certainly not in my memory. There isn't a day that passes that I don't think of her (and Dad too) or find myself sharing some funny story about her. I can't remember spending an unpleasant moment with her and I can't remember not wanting her in my company.
She enjoyed life to the fullest and I believe she's doing the same in her "afterlife."
I guess most (if not all) Moms are like her because Pat's Mom was the same way. Although I never knew her until I was an adult, she enjoyed everything about her life too. She had 7 kids, five of which were girls. She did some "crazy" things too.
In fact, when it gets down to it, I'm sure after Pat has left this world, our kids will be telling these funny stories about her. Even now, on the rare occasion when I'm with one or all of our three sons, they'll start telling stories about her that make my sides split. Many of these stories had me in them with her, but at the time I didn't realize how funny we seemed to them.
It's a good legacy to leave behind!
Happy Mother's Day, Moms!!!
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