Friday, my mom turns 87. Hard to believe...for her, for me, and for anyone else who knows her. A few weeks ago, she told me that she probably had to admit that she was knocking on the door of being old. That may be true chronologically, but in spirit she is no where near old. She is a lot younger than some 30 year olds I know.
Her life has been interesting and varied. It has been filled with joy, but she has dealt with some hard blows as well; normal hurts like losing my father, and tragic loss like my brother's death. She deals with hurt in her own way, and does not burden others. In fact, one of the characteristics I most admire about her, is her determination to find someone she can help when she feels she cannot help herself. Bringing joy to others brings healing to her. She once had a friend who told her that the only really fun time she had was when she was with my mom. Maybe fun is the best word to describe her.
Mom has a lot of stories. Most of them are really funny. At a friend's mother's funeral, the friend came to Mom and said, "I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but your funeral is one I do not want to miss. My mom was a beautiful, lovely lady (yes, she was. I loved her!), but the stories, ah the stories they will tell at your funeral. I want to hear them all." Well, I am grateful to be telling a few of them for her 87th and not her memorial.
One of the things my mom is sort of known for is her driving. I remember when she got her license. It was a really big day. Truthfully, I am not sure how she passed the test. Of course, acquiring a driver's license is not an overly stringent process here in Tennessee. One day, we were driving to the swimming pool. We came upon some men working on the road. There was some big machinery on the shoulder. The one directing traffic waved Mom through. She got so close to him, that he had to climb up on top of our car to keep from being crushed. She looked and his feet were dangling at her window. She just pointed and sort of laughed and kept on going.
She has to be the only person I know who has been stopped by Brentwood police 4 or 5 times for speeding and never received a ticket. She either sweet talks her way out of it, or she just totally discombobulates the officer until he is no longer sure why he stopped her. She totally confused a policeman several years ago as she was returning home from her job at the Ryman Auditorium. She was speeding through Shelby Park when she saw blue lights. The officer asked to see her driver's license at which time she discovered that she did not have her purse. She panicked, searching all around to see if it had dropped on the floor or rolled up under her seat. The officer waited through her frantic hunt. She convinced him to use his police phone to call the Ryman and she if the purse could be located. After much confusion and discussion, the purse was found. The officer told Mom to go on along at which time she asked him, "weren't you going to give me a ticket?" I think he admitted that he had considered it, but it just was not worth the effort.
My dad collected cars. Not in the spirit of Dirk Pitt in Clive Cussler novels, but rather more in the spirit of Fred Sanford. We had Hudsons...2 just alike. Mom was NOT pleased with the second one. We had a Studebaker. My brother had a Volkswagen Bug. He wrecked it in Oklahoma. My dad drove his car to Oklahoma, gave it to my brother and drove the 99.9% totaled Bug home with the driver's side door missing and the top having been hammered out where it was touching the back of the seat after the wreck. We had a Buick that had air shocks that malfunctioned in such a way that over night the car sank down over the tires where they could no longer be seen. Often, several of the cars would not run. Mom would take the keys out and pray that the vehicle in the back of the line of cars would be the one to start. If the one in the front was the only one that would, she had to drive across our back yard, down the hill to the neighbor's driveway to get out. Not terribly convenient. When Daddy came home with the puke green Gremlin, she sweetly smiled, and told him she hoped he enjoyed driving it because she would not. I believe that car was returned. I had a friend who once said she loved riding in our cars because you never knew what would fall off. I'm not sure Mom was amused, but, nevertheless, she always offered to drive anywhere any of us needed to go.
We lived in a small house with one bathroom. She raised 5 children in that house, however, never did more than 3 kids live in the house at the same time. She had her first child when she was 19 and her last when she was 42. My older brothers were married when my sister was born. She loved (loves) to decorate for holidays. I remember as a child the wonderful Halloween decorations we had. The house was always cheerful and cozy. We all always wanted to just come home. She used to make huge wreaths for the front door at Christmas complete with a big spotlight showcasing it. She had florist wire and tape and staples and everything imaginable to put those wreaths together. She always wears red at Christmas. One of the family traditions is to go to her house Thanksgiving weekend to decorate her tree. We still joyfully do it, and reminisce over the various ornaments. Sadly, last year, I broke the last of the really old ones. She was very gracious, even though I know she was sad about it.
Our house may have been small, but there was always room for more, especially at Thanksgiving. She would set tables up all over the house so that neighbors or elderly family members and friends would have a place to share dinner with us. I do not think that she has ever in her life entertained without having fresh flowers on the table. She loves to cook. She is the best kind of cook. Do not ask her for a recipe. It is not that she doesn't want to share, it's that she just does not use recipes. "Oh, a little of this and a little of that for taste," she'll say. Or, "stir it until it is the right thickness." Not helpful! She always cooks what we want for our birthdays. It is tradition; one I continue with my own children. She makes birthdays special.
There are so many more stories. So many more things to be said, but this blog is getting very long. Let me just say that Mom is a gracious, hospitable, forward-thinking, Southern-drawling, compassionate, kind, and entertaining woman. She is impulsive, which sometimes gets her in trouble...like having more lamps than she needs. The woman loves lamps. She loves her children. She loves her grandchildren. She loves her great grandchildren. She loves her friends. She loves the beach. She loves chocolate. She WILL hide chocolate from the rest of us and hoard it for herself. Otherwise, she is very generous. She has a style that this daughter did not inherit. She is tough. She lives with pain, but it is the rare occasion that she mentions it. She keeps the things that really matter to her close. She can be trusted. She is a loyal friend to many. She has friends all ages. She thinks with her heart and not her brain most of the time. She's never met a stranger. She likes most everyone she meets. If I want to know about a new restaurant or a recently released movie, I ask her. She's eaten there and she's seen it. She loves to go more than anyone I know. She is always "going to get o'ganized, go on a diet, and work on her memoires." Her greatest joy is spending time with her family. I love her. I hope she has many more birthdays.
So, for today, I wish you joyful times and sweet memories of the mothers in your life, and I wish you
blessings
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