Here’s To You, Mom

Mom will be 89 years old next month. I don’t call her much anymore.  She enjoys the calls, but every few minutes she asks me the same questions over and over.  And after we’re done talking, she either doesn’t remember that I called, or she imagines that we had a big fight (which we never have), and then I get a frantic email from my brother asking me to call back and apologize so she will calm down. Nobody warns you about how hard it is to see your Mom lose her independence, her common sense, her ability to do all the things she used to do, and especially, to be unable to remember and trust those who love her and care for her.  Fortunately, she still remembers who I am, so I send her newsy letters every few months of my travels, successes, and any funny great-grandchildren stories I can share.

Mom grew up on a large farm in upstate New York, where every day was filled with lots of people and many different jobs. My grandmother had twelve children, but Mom was the youngest of the nine who survived childhood. In addition, all the farm hands who worked for them had to be fed every day. Mom learned to cook just about anything and make it tasty and good, and she appreciated the blessing of having enough to eat. Like others who grew up during the lean years of the Great Depression, Mom always tended to overbuy everything, always wanting to have a back-up supply. She knew the value of a dollar, and was very savvy about how to earn it, how to save it, and how to spend it.

Just after World War II, which was about 10 years before I was born, Mom and Dad lived in Germany.  Food was rationed, and everyone had to “make do, or do without”.  Mom was appalled to see children picking through the garbage cans looking for food, so every morning, she cooked a large pot of oatmeal to feed the children in her neighborhood.   Mom wasn’t one to gripe about the problem, but rather the type of person who took the bull by the horns and found a solution.   

My earliest memory is of Mom and Dad walking in the front door together, Dad in his Air Force uniform, and Mom holding a little bundle in a yellow blanket.  She had given birth to my youngest brother, Pete, and was just returning from the hospital.  In addition to an older brother and sister, Mom and Dad gave me two younger brothers, who according to the doctors, should never have been born; but Mom wanted a big family, so she ignored the doctors’ concerns about her health.  Did I mention that my Mom is stubborn?

We took lots of road trips, and Mom always bought Dramamine for me, because my carsickness was so severe.  I couldn’t swallow the pills with water, so she disguised the bitter taste by wrapping each pill in caramel.  Back in those days, nobody wore seatbelts, so the seats in the back of the station wagon were laid flat and filled with pillows and blankets, where my brothers and I played games, sang silly songs, or slept all the way down the road.  Mom always met our needs, but also wanted our lives to be fun.

Even before we started school, Mom taught us all our letters and numbers, how to read simple words, and recite little poems.  We practiced writing on lined paper, and thought it was just another game Mom had invented.  She loved to play cards and games, so our brains were regularly exercised and our imaginations stretched by figuring out new game strategies with Mom.  She made sure we were surrounded by stories and poetry, as well as brand new crayons and coloring books, so that we were filled early on with curiosity and a love of learning. 

Being a housewife was a job that Mom seemed to enjoy, and she flourished in the kitchen and the laundry room.  Her baking was legend, from fabulous pies and cakes to mountains of scrumptious cookies. She paid careful attention to the details; for instance, she knew that I liked my toast with real butter, cut into 4 rectangular strips.  When I was sick, I could count on hot tea, lovely buttery rectangles of toast, and applesauce brought on a pretty tray so I could eat it in bed.  Each day, Mom made sure I had crisply ironed dresses to wear to school or church.  She also ironed curtains, tablecloths, even our sheets.  Mom liked to stay busy.

As we got older, Mom decided to work outside the home.  She had a knack for taking a job and eventually becoming manager of the establishment.  It was due to that same stubbornness, attention to detail, and her ability as a natural teacher.  She was an independent thinker, a high achiever, and a force to be reckoned with.  She hired and worked alongside people from many different ethnicities and backgrounds; and she was able to make this work for her, rather than against her.

Mom always knew how to enjoy her grandchildren.   She could usually be found rocking a little one, singing them to sleep, or in the kitchen with a happy preschooler standing on a chair beside her — or an attentive preteen at her side.  Carrie dubbed Mom “Nonny” when she first started to talk, and the name stuck.  To this day, Nonny loves to spend time with all her grandchildren, doing crossword puzzles together, attending their school or scouting functions, and sharing stories about her own childhood. 

After my marriage ended, Mom and Dad came immediately to help me out.  They assessed the situation and decided to sell the retirement home my Dad had built in Tennessee so that they could move close by and help me with my girls.  How many parents would do that?  What an incredible example of sacrificial love.  They provided me with a reliable vehicle, and cheered me on as I went back to college.  Mom diligently picked up the slack as I struggled to work full time and attend classes by cooking meals, doing laundry, encouraging the kids with their homework and supervising their free time.

When I graduated from college with my BA in Communicative Disorders, Mom and Dad bought me a necklace with my college emblem, which I still wear every single day.  At the commencement ceremony when I received my MA with honors at age 44, the applause was not for me, but for my Mom who was sitting in the stands, and for my Dad, who was looking down from Heaven.  Without Mom’s example of how to be a strong woman and an achiever, how to work hard and never give up, without her willingness to be there for me and my girls, I could not possibly have attained that goal.

Now she talks about the trips we have taken together to Taiwan, Thailand, Vietnam, Korea, Borneo, and Bali.  She vividly recalls our adventures in the diverse towns and cities we visited.  She doesn’t realize that we never actually traveled to those places together except through the letters that I’ve written her and the photos I’ve shared.  I let her believe it really happened, because in her mind, she was there — and she always is there in my heart.

So here’s to you, Mom.  Thank you for everything.

Buy Chris Rice

NONNY NONNY

From the album Run the Earth, Watch the Sky
By Chris Rice
(Click to listen)

Summer warm and lazy
Lemon sun and hazy
Remember?
Popsicle red on my chin
Bikes and plastic army men
And no sign of September
Something in my seven years was telling me
To thank the Author of such a biography

Nonny Nonny Odle’ee
River washes over me
Up for air and carry me away
Nonny Nonny Odle’igh
Run the earth and watch the sky
Praying hard and waiting for the day
Nonny Nonny Odle’ay

My adolescent 70’s
Reads just like the Pevensies’
Adventure
‘Cause every perfect now and then
I caught a glimpse of Aslan’s mane
And I longed for His treasure
Something in His mystery was drawing me
To love the Author of my own biography

Nonny and Great-Grandchildren

Nonny Nonny Odle’ee
River washes over me
Up for air and carry me away
Nonny Nonny Odle’igh
Run the earth and watch the sky
Praying hard and waiting for the day
Nonny Nonny Odle’ay

All grown up and living fine
Biographies all intertwined
With billions
And soon He turns the final page
We’ll look the Author in the face
Then the book really begins
‘Cause something tells me all these years of memories
Are only the first sentence of eternity…

Nonny Nonny Odle’ee
River washes over me
Up for air and carry me away
Nonny Nonny Odle’igh
Run the earth and watch the sky
Praying hard and waiting for the day…

Nonny Nonny Odle’ee
River washes over me
Up for air and carry me away
Nonny Nonny Odle’igh
Run the earth and watch the sky
Praying hard and waiting for the day…
Praying hard and waiting for the day…
Praying hard and waiting for the day…

Her children rise up and call her blessed. Prov. 31:28a