Dad's Sayings That Stuck With Me

Look how small my momma was after 10 kids!!!

Yesterday, a client asked me if I missed my Dad. It was a question that came out of the blue. He had asked some questions about my childhood and as he was leaving, surprised me with this question. It now has me thinking about my response. And about my dad.

Poor Richard's Almanac was a book written by Ben Franklin, back in the 15th century. It's a book that my dad quoted from on occasion, and has a statement within its pages that says, "Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise." My father quoted that statement frequently, especially when we siblings many, questioned the reasoning behind going to bed so early. I suppose it was his way of encouraging us. But the reality of it all was living on a farm with many mouths to feed, we had to get to bed early to acquire enough sleep to energize us throughout the next day. We rose at 4 AM to start our day at the milk barn attending to 20+ head of holstein cows. And the only "milking machines" we had was our own hands. Without going into explaining just how exhausting herding a bunch of cows was, while walking in ankle deep mud (during the summer months), and then prepping them to allow us access to their milk, I will tell you that "early to bed" was a necessity. And that was just the beginning of our day! I've followed this rule most of my life, but am still wondering when the "wealthy" part is going to kick in. 😉😉

Within those pages Franklin also wrote, "Be also ashamed to catch thyself idle." Another (almost) quote my father used often. Actually, Dad said, "Idleness is the Devil's workshop." Same, only differently said. We were reminded of this daily. I didn't really think about that one until I was much older. We just did as we were told...without question. Now that I'm an adult, working in an adult world, I really do get it!!! Idleness allows the mind to travel places that maybe it shouldn't. It's way too easy for the younger generation to fall into this abyss and that is where trouble looms. An active, work oriented person, generally keeps out of so much trouble. Not to suggest that working all the time is healthy, just that it keeps one focused on the chore at hand with no time for frivolously conjuring up something that may eventually bring one into harms path.

"Waste not, want not" was another term that was drilled into us as we tilled the soil, harvested the garden and corn fields, and sat down to the healthy meals prepared by my Mom's loving hands. I can only guess where this came from, and my guess is the fact our parents went through the great depression of 1929-1941 that ended during World War II. Mom spoke about waiting in soup lines during those hard years. Many things were rationed and one couldn't purchase just anything they wanted. Even if they had the money to do so. Which they rarely did.

 

I was born (the 10th child) in 1947. My brother, Rush, number 7, was born in 1941. So our parents raised 7 kids during those tremendously hard years. My mom and dad were married in 1925 and had their first child in 1926. Every 2 years another one of us popped out. I think a couple of the first four were born 3 years apart, or close to it. But the rest of our clan (8 more of us), was only 2 years apart. Mom carried 11, but lost one when she was thrown from the back of a flat-bed truck. I also think the great depression caused most families to be savers and people that repurposed items. It's equally hard for me to dispose of things I think might come in handy at a later date. As I've aged, I've gotten much better at throwing things out that haven't been used for awhile, but it takes a LOT of determination. The "what ifs" always invade my brain. 

PICTURE INFO: Left to Right, back row: Earl (Dad), Erna (Mom), Helen (first born), Melvin (second), Don (third), Ken (fourth). Front Row: Martha aka Marty (fifth), Etna (six), Rush (seventh), Rebecca aka Becky (eight), Daniel aka Dan or Danny (nineth), and little ole me, Mary (tenth). We sure did line 'em up, didn't we. 😂  It's funny that I can remember that particular skirt I had on that day. Mom had made it for the school year and it was my favorite. 

What a scrawny bunch we were! It wasn't from lack of food, so it must have been all that hard work, right? And maybe a little because our sugar was well regulated. Mom was an excellent cook and knew what we needed for the work that was in front of us. Our day-starting meal was usually made up of home-made biscuits and gravy, fried chicken and mashed potatoes. It was a hearty meal for sure, and is why we had any meat on our bones at all, I'm thinking. On occasion, Mom would bring home a bottle or two of soda pop from her monthly trip to town for staples, such as sugar, salt, and flour. We made our own butter (cows, remember). Should we ever ask for any of the soda pop (which we rarely did), she would allow a couple of swallows from a very small juice glass. And we knew not to ask for more. I think it was her personal reward for all the hard work she did to provide food for us all.

One last saying of Dads. Should (when) any of us got in the mullygrubs, he would always say, "The best is yet to come," as a smile etched itself across his face and a twinkle sparked from his eyes. That was his way of cheering us on, I suppose. Dad was a reader, when there was time for it. He was also a highly intelligent man, earning a Bachelor of Science degree while in college. His adult life consisted of a farm that supported a large family and eventually became a dairy farm as well, running a 3 generations sawmill (that eventually became 6), and ministry in the Methodist Church. He was a busy boy! As were his offspring...

These are only a few of the things Dad would inject into our day, as needed. Bible reading and prayer, was a required routine to our day, too. Morning, to start the day, and evening, as we prepared for rest to thank God for his provisions. I remember one day when my brother Danny and I weren't "on the job", Dad told us to read Psalm 119 in its entirety. He expected a run-down of the words written in that very lengthy chapter, when he got home. Having 176 verses, it is the longest chapter in the whole Bible. I'm pretty sure we didn't read them all. My memories of that day are vague, to say the least. I only remember Danny and I looking at each other with unbelief. How in the world were we to accomplish this task and be able to let Dad know what we learned from it. I think it must have been Dad's way of keeping us busy with idle body work, while engaging our brains at the same time. I have no idea how we escaped farm life that day...

As always, here you will find me...in Mary's World

Am I Anything Like Her?

My morning walk took me back to my growing up years. The last couple of days have brought my emotions to a quiet reckoning. Emotions I haven't felt in awhile. Emotions that brought tears to my eyes, and because it's only me on the walk, I let them have their way. 

I wondered what her life had been like. If she was happy. Did she have moments of sadness that tried to overtake her? How on earth did she raise 10 kids?!!! Was she able to spend any amount of time with them, or was she constantly doing the work that needed done to raise those little ones? That's how I remember her. Always busy with providing for us. Maybe she was able to spend time with the first 5, but I don't remember ever having time with just her. I don't recall being read to, snuggled, or purposefully taught anything, other than how to survive by putting in the work. Maybe all those things happened. I just don't recall them. But, oh how I loved my momma!

Do I act like her? Would anyone that knew my momma say that I reminded them of her? I'm pretty sure I'm more aggressive than she was. She seemed so shy, quietly going about her household duties that included planting and caring for a huge garden and harvesting it, taking care of the hen house, the cooking (from scratch, no less), and cleaning. Doing all that laundry, on a scrub board for many years, and eventually a wringer washer, then hanging her labor out on a clothes line to dry. She loved flowers. I do remember that. She cared for them much like a mother cares for her children. She spoke to them. Nurtured them. They were her escape. Looking back, I'm so glad she had one. 

In the knowing of how to get things done, I can lean a bit towards a demanding attitude, even if it's only of myself. I suppose others may misunderstand my thinking patterns and become defensive when asked if something has been done yet. I don't even realize my inquiry is coming off as controlling. Maybe even as if I think lesser of anyone who isn't constantly working. However, I do think I have become more mellow as the years have flown past. You may even find me on any given day, when away from the salon, not doing much of anything. And it drives me crazy! I feel as if I've thrown away a day I've been given to live. I suppose it's in my DNA. But I do try relaxing more these days...

Do I look like her? There are times I catch a glimpse of her in my reflection. Maybe it's because I want to. Maybe I look hard for it. For anything that reminds me of my mom. She was a gentle soul. Me, not so much. I do love with a whole heart, but gentleness has never been used to describe any of my attributes. Can a heart be gentle, yet express demand? There are times I feel as though I'm a mix, half and half, of dad and mom. Stands to reason. Right? But where does my individuality come into play?

I wish I had her laugh. That is my favorite memory of her. Her laugh. She spoke with gentleness, laced with anxiety at times. The years took their tole on my mom. As they do most of humanity. We change mentally and physically, as the seasons of life come and go. The storms hit us directly in the face, occasionally. They weather us. Right? They grow us up, so-to-speak. Yet, to see my momma smile and then laugh, was priceless.  

As I rounded the corner of a major roadway, this morning, I felt as though she was walking beside me, telling me how much she loved me. And we spoke about Danny. Dan was/is my brother, born 2 years before me. I've been looking for him for the last several years. Maybe it's been 5, or more. We used to speak with each other at least once a year, but usually 3-4 times a year. He lived in Texas, last contact with him. Mom worried about him so much. He was a runaway at 16 years of age...much too young to be on his own. He did make it through those tumultuous years, married, and had 3 boys. Divorced, Remarried (3 or 4 times), last count. I do wish I could find him. Was mom trying to tell me something about him? Is he with her?

If there is anything in me that is like my mom, it is that she was a big time worrier. Same! I've been accused of looking for things to worry about. That triggers me. Makes me mad, actually. My dad used to say the same thing to my mom. "Why pray when you can worry," he'd say to her. I didn't find that funny then, nor do I now. I do know we should place our trust in the fact that God is for us, and not against us. I do know He is a loving God. I also know that life has its concerns. Its challenges. Its dangers. And even though mercy and grace follow us, we live in a world where it's a bit dangerous to stick our heads in the sand and simply ignore life that is happening all around us.

Would others that knew my mom say we are anything alike? How much of her was passed down to me? Because of her, I live. What part of her is me? She's been gone from this earth since March 19th, 1980. Born in the year that Oklahoma became a state (1907), she was only 73 years old when she left it. I miss her. What a beautiful soul...

Reminiscing, here you'll find me...in Mary's World.