I don’t remember much of my childhood. I’ve often wondered if I blocked something traumatic from my memory, but I am almost seventy, and if I have repressed an unpleasant experience, awesome.
I lived in a house with a lot of female energy and had a mom who never stopped teaching and pushing us to perfection. Thank you, Mother!
My bedroom was always in the basement, on the NE corner of the house at 662 Cedar in Akron, CO. When I close my eyes I see pink walls, pink and blue flowered curtains and bedspread. My mother must have made them. The floor was linoleum squares, and we had one chest of drawers and a closet with a door.
I shared a room with my oldest sister until I was nine and she left for Barnes Business College. I cried and cried. I thought she died and was never coming home. Then, the sister two years older than I moved into my room. She was married the summer she graduated high school. Yippee, I had a room of my own for two whole years. It was glorious.
My parents were very strict. When we didn’t do what was expected, we got a whipping with either a razor strap or a switch off the crabapple tree. Today my parents would be reported to Human Services, but in those days, it was common for kids to be hit around as a means of discipline. Today, I don’t think it emotionally scarred me much; My noncompliance probably warranted a swat or two.
My mother was always home, and I liked that. She had white carpet in the living room and always hollered, “Use the south door!” when we tried to use the front entrance. Because of that, I know what direction is South. She raised a huge garden and canned the most beautiful, sparkling, colorful food in glass Ball Mason Jars.
If she wasn’t cooking, always from a recipe, she was ironing our ruffled dresses.She shook water on our clothes from a pop bottle that had a perforated cap. She then rolled the clothes tight, put them in a laundry basket, and one by one ironed them. She sewed all of our clothes, the five of us always looked like princesses.
My second oldest sister said, ” I thought Mother never slept because she was working when I went to bed, and she was working when I woke up.
Mother was an extraordinary woman. She always took us to church, held groups to encourage young mothers, worked endlessly for the VFW (Veterans of Foreign Wars) Auxiliary, taught us all how to sew, and budgeted her share of money from my dad’s postal job so she could buy pretty things for the house and for us. Because of that, I was raised on pinto beans, cooked with a ham hock, and doused with catsup. Yum! Today, beans are my favorite comfort food.
Her birthday is next week, April 11th. She would be 95. We lost her in 2007. God Bless Her Soul!
Written 4-6-2016
Dr J’s Comments
I haven’t had a chance to visit with other women lately, so I am going to tell my own story – one little story at a time… like I want YOU to do:-) It is fun to remember, and easy to post.
What a heartwarming account of your early life before I knew you. I still think of when I met you, which of course was before we were all married. Today yet I remember vividly the Saturday during the county fair and after the rodeo Philip and I were with the two of you and to your parents house where we showered and got ready for the evening activity – dining out together and to the dance. That was probably the first time I’d met you but a fun time the four of us had – the first of many. As you spoke about your parent’s home in this story, I felt as if I was walking through the house and particularly the basement – felt right at home. How interesting your mother’s birthday was the 11th as my mother’s birthday is today, April 13th. My mother would be 109 and she passed away in 1996. God bless those women for giving us life and teaching us to become the women we are!
Lois, loved your comments…Isn’t it fun to be old enough to remember and connect the dots? My son Ryan’s birthday is the same as your mom’s. Yes, thank God for the wonderful women who came before us and paved a path!
Lois, I remember the little santa hat, mittens, and booties you knitted or crocheted for Mark….Unless the kids got rid of them, I still have them at the farm. Also, I remember having you over for dinner and I set a card table in the living room and served Chicken Cacciatore. It must have been before Mark was born? Our mothers almost had the same birthday…I miss her, and I believe she misses me too:-) Thanks for loyally reading my stories and sending comments…you are appreciated.