Oh sure, she may look harmless enough. But that's probably the dimples talking. Tip of the iceberg. Let me tell you what she was really like.
My mom kept the world turning. Someone had to. A master of organization, she was relentlessly industrious, working nonstop to have a spotless home and a successful family. No nonsense. None. She never let up. Even at night when she read us bedtime stories, I sensed the pressure... she would read so fast to get through the book or chapter or nursery rhyme that she barely stopped to catch a breath. Each story was pretty much likeagiantrunonsentencewithnopunctuationtoslowitdown. Grimms' Fairy Tales on steroids.
My mom kept the world turning. Someone had to. A master of organization, she was relentlessly industrious, working nonstop to have a spotless home and a successful family. No nonsense. None. She never let up. Even at night when she read us bedtime stories, I sensed the pressure... she would read so fast to get through the book or chapter or nursery rhyme that she barely stopped to catch a breath. Each story was pretty much likeagiantrunonsentencewithnopunctuationtoslowitdown. Grimms' Fairy Tales on steroids.
So my impression of her early on was of someone who could not savor the moment, to say the least. Always on the move. A woman on a mission. Life seemed to be an endless chore, but with hyper energy equal to the task. Chop chop!
(Ok, so here's evidence to the contrary, where it looks like we're relaxing. Can you say "posed"?)
And the woman had high standards. And a schedule. A place for everything and everything in its place. Home sweet home. She dusted and vacuumed first thing in the morning, and then again just before Daddy was due home. Twice a day! Who does that? Dinner was at exactly 4:30 when he came through that door. Not a minute later. Every day. Without fail. Not that he would have cared, he was so easygoing.
And the woman had high standards. And a schedule. A place for everything and everything in its place. Home sweet home. She dusted and vacuumed first thing in the morning, and then again just before Daddy was due home. Twice a day! Who does that? Dinner was at exactly 4:30 when he came through that door. Not a minute later. Every day. Without fail. Not that he would have cared, he was so easygoing.
Waiting to mop our hardwood floors during TV commercials Saturday morning when we were watching cartoons. Ironing piles of clothes began at 3 or 4 am. Friends could only come over to play outside, not ever inside the clean house. Maybe these were ubiquitous societal expectations in the 50's?
When we did dishes, one of us girls would clear the table, one would wash, one would dry. Mom would stand there with an extra dish towel in hand, just in case an errant drop of water dared mar the countertop. If we objected to the oversight, or anything else, she made it perfectly clear that "This is MY house. You will do it MY way. When you get YOUR house, you can do it YOUR way!" No equivocating.
So when I got MY house, I did it MY way, and my kids were NEVER allowed to dry any dishes NO MATTER WHAT! Boy, I sure showed her.
Who can blame her? It could have been DNA. Possibly she was innocent at birth. The verdict's not in yet. She appeared to be one of the fairly more benign ones in her early youth, but that's the female species for you. You just never know. They can go off the wall at any time. Just ask my kids.
Maybe it started when she became an ace tap dancing performer. You know, the pressure to never miss a beat. Shuffle, shuffle, tap, tap. Even have to shuffle fast, and no missteps. The show must go on!
But then she always had her biggest fan in the audience anyway. Her Ernie. Always on her side. Once a sweetheart always a sweetheart back in that day. She got him young and trained him well. They were a happy couple.
Then at about 11 or 12 years old, I was dumbfounded when after visiting my cousins' farm, I fell in love with an abused and abandoned dog they had rescued, and couldn't let go. Aunt Joyce brought me back to town with the little dog in my arms. Just knew we'd both be shot, my Aunt and I. Even the dog. I knew there was no way my Mom would even let us in the door.
When I shifted my attention to the Mormon Church, I think it was a relief. We knew nothing about that, so who was to know that it would end up they were into lots of kids as well? Despite being worried about me getting married and having beaucoup d'enfants, she was maybe even more worried that I wouldn't get married at all, and that I would end up never leaving the nest, so she let me start dating way too young. Thank goodness I wasn't really interested in boys till later, and didn't fall in love till the ripe old age of ... 16.
Mudgie was born on Friday the 13th, graduated on Friday the 13th, has 13 letters in her name, now has 13 grandchildren and one to grow on, and so on. Considered Friday the 13th her lucky day, and that consequently she is one lucky woman. She has always worked really hard at being lucky. Mom ran the show, and she took it seriously. Dad gave her free reign and whole-hearted support. They were quite a team. I look at my sisters and think, what a marvelous job they did. We were four very lucky girls every day. Still are.
VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY LUCKY
Perfection must have seemed attainable in those days. Yep. We were organized. O.R.G.A.N.I.Z.E.D.
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| Oh, You Must Have Been A Beautiful Baby.... |
Who can blame her? It could have been DNA. Possibly she was innocent at birth. The verdict's not in yet. She appeared to be one of the fairly more benign ones in her early youth, but that's the female species for you. You just never know. They can go off the wall at any time. Just ask my kids.
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| Mudgie & Dort |
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| Mudgie in charge...and a 1-2-3-4 |
Or maybe she honed those let's move it along, BOOM! BOOM! skills when she became the drum majorette for the Hawaiian Guitar Band in High School. Guess she wasn't content to just play the music. She had to lead the music. Did I mention she loves a parade? At any rate, she marched us along our merry way in a John Sousa kind of way. The girl had energy. And determination.
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| STRUT IT! |
Here's the thing. Evidently in her High School yearbook, it said she was the sweetest girl ever. Wait a second, this same woman who would give you the evil MOM FACE when you somehow innocently upset her and would threaten you with, "Wait till your Father gets home!"--- that one? The one who intentionally scheduled all those spankings? Who would lock us out of the house all day in the summer (truth- all moms did back then)! Or would dig her nails into your arm when you were a teenage reprobate?
Why yes, she did have quite the temper. There were just a few melodramatic scenarios that aged well, and over time we joked about. My favorite was the time she caught me sneaking out of the basement window one night. I had moved down there in High School to claim my own bedroom as a quasi adult. The basement was unfinished and I slept on a cot, but the privacy was priceless. And of course, I snuck out at night. For years. Took a chair over to the basement window and climbed right out.
But I promise I never did anything the least bit wrong and didn't get caught until that one night, home from my junior year of college. And did she ever have a major meltdown! She was furious, nuclear grade furious! Dad had just had Hernia surgery, and she was emphatically screaming at me that if he ever found out, it would kill him, just kill him! She turned around and stomped up the stairs, yelling, "Ern! Ern!" Ummmm, what? Not my finest moment. Miraculously, he survived. Me too.
The most notorious incident was long before that, years before. Dad precipitated the encounter with disaster by going to the office Christmas party and taking a drink! Against all odds! Yes, apparently not a Shirley Temple! Did he not read the family instruction manual that we absolutely DO NOT DRINK? Actually, who needs an instruction manual, it was in our blood, our very DNA. No alcohol was our unspoken mantra, maybe Susan B. Anthony was in our family tree!
Anyway, something went awry, and Minnehaha went on the warpath. She put us little girls in the back of the car and drove to Wing Park to crash into an oak tree and annihilate us all for sweet and swift revenge. Wait, a minute there, why not put him in the car... we didn't have anything to drink? Didn't even know what one was. Luckily she missed the trees and we got home safe, maybe not sound. No idea how long he had to pay for that unforgivable mistake.
Well the heat of passion can certainly lead to some interesting outcomes. We all have our moments. And the impact was less life and death, more life lessons... still have never had a drink. Fortunately, I took a page from this and decided to live a mellow and serene life making sure my passions never got out of control. Why no, you can't ask my kids, they're busy. In retrospect, us Sholes girls all think of this as one of the most hilarious episodes of all time.
Yet this was the very same person when I was but little, who would randomly stop the car to pick wild violets together from the roadside. The very same person who laid out on the couch after dinner every night and had me tickle and rub her back for maybe 25 cents an hour and dazedly grant permission for all sorts of whatever I wanted. I was the only one to do so, and I think I could have gotten away with just about anything as she drifted off to sleep. Just about. At least, until she woke up.
One thing I learned from Mudgie is the importance of the little things. She would knock herself out keeping the house fastidiously clean, sure, but that was taken for granted. She had this habit of switching it up every month. So I would be caught off guard coming home from school to find the couch had moved to yet another different place in the living room. Rearranging furniture is not in my skill set. But it did seem to keep things interesting, and it didn't cost a penny back in those more frugal days.
A special touch for birthdays or good report cards, or whatever special achievements, would warrant her putting out a red carpet on the front porch steps that day in honor of one or another of us. The neighbors must have figured we were such VIP's! Wow, I only wish I had adopted that tradition.
Always busy adding personal little touches to our lives, one thing that garnered her some attention beyond just the family, was her penchant for decorating the large picture window in the living room. It featured a generous wood window seat, so she would fill that with vignettes for the holidays and season changes, or whatever grabbed her fancy. A large 3 foot doll would be dressed in a Halloween costume with a wheelbarrow full of pumpkins and surrounded by cutout autumn leaves dancing on invisible thread. Or perhaps dressed in Easter Bunny gear next to an Easter egg tree in the Spring. Maybe standing next to an actual school desk in September when it got to be that time of the year. Cars would slow down to notice her creativity as they drove by, and it was something she so enjoyed doing.
Always busy adding personal little touches to our lives, one thing that garnered her some attention beyond just the family, was her penchant for decorating the large picture window in the living room. It featured a generous wood window seat, so she would fill that with vignettes for the holidays and season changes, or whatever grabbed her fancy. A large 3 foot doll would be dressed in a Halloween costume with a wheelbarrow full of pumpkins and surrounded by cutout autumn leaves dancing on invisible thread. Or perhaps dressed in Easter Bunny gear next to an Easter egg tree in the Spring. Maybe standing next to an actual school desk in September when it got to be that time of the year. Cars would slow down to notice her creativity as they drove by, and it was something she so enjoyed doing.
We didn't always go along with her easily of course, but she usually triumphed. We were a handful and pretty darn hard on her. After years of that, one day out of the blue she jumped on top of the kitchen table and with her hands in the air chanted loudly, "I AM WONDERFUL! I AM WONDERFUL!" We were stunned. It was weird, but pretty impressive.
So let's get one thing straight. Purple. Her reputation for purple being her favorite color has become legendary. Ironically, I remember being bewildered as a little girl that Mom would tell me her favorite color was sky blue pink, and so she would take me outside and show it to me at sunset. She was right! Technically, I guess blue and pink combined would make purple. Funny enough, I don't remember her wearing purple much, but nobody, and I mean nobody, ever rocked navy blue and white like this one! Classy, stunning!
One thing Mudgie didn't rock was elevators. She couldn't really, because she wouldn't get in them. Claustrophobia prevailed. But she did rock fruit. You could often find her eating an apple... core, seeds, and all. Isn't that just bizarre? And now I do that. What can I say?
Truth is she was born a Leftie. And you know what they say about left-handed people! Maybe she was just born stubborn enough to demand a lot out of life, a lot from herself. Amazingly, she had the most beautiful handwriting ever. Seems an accomplishment for somebody right handed, miraculous if left handed.
And did I mention a remarkable singing voice? After all, what can move you more than beautiful music? Gifted a lovely soprano voice, she's always made the most of it and filled the house with song. "Indian Love Song" (sung at her wedding), "In The Good Old Summertime," "Deep Purple"(guess that comes as no surprise), "September," "I Go to The Garden Alone" (her favorite of all, even though she wasn't religious in the least and it's about Jesus), and probably countless more, especially from the 1940's. Maybe you can listen to oldies on YouTube?
Of course, the two that she will always be most known for in family lore are "The Hokey Pokey" and "Show Me the Way to Go Home." How can you not smile at those every single time? I mean that's a Sholes legend at this point.
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| "To Have And To Hold From This Day Forth" Sept. 21, 1943 |
The only thing truly amiss in her world was something so dreadfully awful, so forbidding and disgusting, that she could never even say it. She just pretended that the "S" word didn't exist on planet earth. Which was fine, the universe seemed to cooperate.
SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
Until that vacation one year in Lake Tomahawk, Wisconsin. A handful of us kids were splashing around in the lake when one of the adults on the pier spotted it. "Water moccasin!" And there in the midst of us, slithering on top of the sparkling water, an "S" word. Gasp! I had a broken arm and couldn't swim with the heavy cast, so kind of figured I'd be the logical human sacrifice, taking one for the team. But not to worry, the cute teenage boy who worked at the resort, Cisco, jumped in and got hold of the "S" word and killed it. My hero! He proudly displayed the dead, but very much still moving, reptile on the pier. I still remember my Dad's absolute awe. Awe and disbelief that Mom didn't pass out. Or worse!
But she'd throw me a curve ball every once in a while. Totally out of character, to my young mind, she would let me keep wild orphan bunnies I'd find in the yard, hairless and about the size of a pinkie finger, in the garage. She let me feed them every hour or so with a medicine dropper, and she would take over and nurse them through the nights. Sooner or later they would all die anyway, but it felt important trying. Didn't seem organized somehow.
SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
Until that vacation one year in Lake Tomahawk, Wisconsin. A handful of us kids were splashing around in the lake when one of the adults on the pier spotted it. "Water moccasin!" And there in the midst of us, slithering on top of the sparkling water, an "S" word. Gasp! I had a broken arm and couldn't swim with the heavy cast, so kind of figured I'd be the logical human sacrifice, taking one for the team. But not to worry, the cute teenage boy who worked at the resort, Cisco, jumped in and got hold of the "S" word and killed it. My hero! He proudly displayed the dead, but very much still moving, reptile on the pier. I still remember my Dad's absolute awe. Awe and disbelief that Mom didn't pass out. Or worse!
But she'd throw me a curve ball every once in a while. Totally out of character, to my young mind, she would let me keep wild orphan bunnies I'd find in the yard, hairless and about the size of a pinkie finger, in the garage. She let me feed them every hour or so with a medicine dropper, and she would take over and nurse them through the nights. Sooner or later they would all die anyway, but it felt important trying. Didn't seem organized somehow.
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| Baby bunnies |
Then at about 11 or 12 years old, I was dumbfounded when after visiting my cousins' farm, I fell in love with an abused and abandoned dog they had rescued, and couldn't let go. Aunt Joyce brought me back to town with the little dog in my arms. Just knew we'd both be shot, my Aunt and I. Even the dog. I knew there was no way my Mom would even let us in the door.
But... SHE LET ME KEEP THE DOG! Who'd have thought? Never give up hope! My mom seemed to tolerate Tami for some reason, and that was all that mattered to me.
One day, after Tami had been with us a couple years, I started to come downstairs much earlier than usual. And I heard mom's voice, softly cooing to the dog in baby talk. What? Had aliens landed and possessed her? (Do aliens even know baby talk?) Who was this woman? It was a mystery. Made me smile. And sneak back up the stairs. Every once in a while after that, I would stay hidden on the stairway some mornings and listen. It was such a discovery... my mom was human! Not just the vacuum cleaner/cook/bad cop. I actually found myself kinda liking this person, who pretended to be so tough. I now knew better. It was our unshared little secret.
One day, after Tami had been with us a couple years, I started to come downstairs much earlier than usual. And I heard mom's voice, softly cooing to the dog in baby talk. What? Had aliens landed and possessed her? (Do aliens even know baby talk?) Who was this woman? It was a mystery. Made me smile. And sneak back up the stairs. Every once in a while after that, I would stay hidden on the stairway some mornings and listen. It was such a discovery... my mom was human! Not just the vacuum cleaner/cook/bad cop. I actually found myself kinda liking this person, who pretended to be so tough. I now knew better. It was our unshared little secret.
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| TAMI |
Tami got really sick when I was about 14. Really, really sick. No hope sick. But I couldn't bear to lose her. My mom let me make the decision on my own, no advice, no pressure. After a few days I couldn't bear to see Tami suffer so. We got in the car and drove to the Vet's. No one said a word. When we got there, with still not a word, they let me go in the building on my own, Tami in my arms. I held my sweet baby as the Dr. administered the shot, and she stopped quivering and heaving in my arms. It was an honor to be there with her, for her. A true spiritual experience.
Somehow letting me handle that on my own made me feel respected and understood. And that was a gift my parents gave to me without ever being asked. The Vet left me alone with Tami and her sudden stillness, and when I was ready to leave, I brought her out in my arms to my waiting family and we went home and buried her under the willow tree.
As much as a stickler for rules and order as my mom was, I have to give her credit for allowing me to make choices along the way. Like when I announced I was taking Catholic instruction and intended to be a nun, she freaked out, but didn't make me quit working at St. Jo hospital or meeting with the priest. "NO," I couldn't go to St. Ed's for high school, and "NO," I absolutely couldn't be baptized as a Catholic, because what if I married and had half a dozen kids then? Oh, the horror.
As much as a stickler for rules and order as my mom was, I have to give her credit for allowing me to make choices along the way. Like when I announced I was taking Catholic instruction and intended to be a nun, she freaked out, but didn't make me quit working at St. Jo hospital or meeting with the priest. "NO," I couldn't go to St. Ed's for high school, and "NO," I absolutely couldn't be baptized as a Catholic, because what if I married and had half a dozen kids then? Oh, the horror.
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| ME & MINE |
When I shifted my attention to the Mormon Church, I think it was a relief. We knew nothing about that, so who was to know that it would end up they were into lots of kids as well? Despite being worried about me getting married and having beaucoup d'enfants, she was maybe even more worried that I wouldn't get married at all, and that I would end up never leaving the nest, so she let me start dating way too young. Thank goodness I wasn't really interested in boys till later, and didn't fall in love till the ripe old age of ... 16.
Of course we all need to have standards with all that, and so about 13, I was unequivocally told that "A lady doesn't smoke." Well my Dad did, and I was quite used to being around it, and thought older girls were the Epitome of Elegance with a cigarette dangling from their lips, flicked from their fingers, so I tried it a couple times that summer, but was a sheer failure at it, embarrassingly enough. Fortunately enough.
But what was even worse was the night of my very first date, my Mom instructed me right before I left, "Be sure you come back the same way you left." I couldn't understand what she meant at all. Come back through the front door? Walk in the front door backwards? Was this some kind of code? Some kind of test? I really couldn't pay much attention to my date, because I was trying to figure out what she meant and if I would be in trouble somehow. Am I the only one who can't translate cryptic?
Regrets? I've had a few, and yet only one is worth mentioning. When I was six, Mom came home one day from the hospital with a new little baby. Dianne! I was beyond excited as she told me to sit in the rocking chair and then she put this little cute, so soft doll in my arms. As I held this angelic package on my lap, it took my breath away! Unfortunately, it didn't take my words away, because immediately I sputtered, "Ohhh, she is so cute, I could just eat her!" Last time I was ever allowed to hold Dianne. (Happily we reconnected as adults and now have a close relationship, although if you notice, she may keep me at arm's length.)
Bottom line, the biggest lesson, the greatest thing I take from my Mom's example, from day in and day out, from year to year, and to forever and beyond, is FAMILY. It all comes down to family. No. Matter. What. Begins and ends there. In a nutshell, in a word, that's it. That's all it's really about. And that's everything. That's always been her life. She has always been there for each and everyone of us, wanting the best for each of us, doing the most for each and everyone. And I think it's kind of like that vampire thing, where she's turning us into the very same thing! That's some DNA!!!!
Now that I have reached an overly ripe age, I find that my Mom has become a different person than this Drill Sergeant I once suspected her of being. The lady who I once thought didn't understand anything at all now has this all encompassing, unassuming wisdom. And the woman I was sure had no sense of humor and was the only other person on earth besides me who absolutely could not tell a joke is now the silliest person I know and keeps me laughing with her off the wall stories and unexpected crazy remarks. But the strangest thing is I was driving along a little while ago, talking to her on my cell phone in a spirited discussion like usual, when all of a sudden we AGREED on something! I had to pull off the road....
Now that I have reached an overly ripe age, I find that my Mom has become a different person than this Drill Sergeant I once suspected her of being. The lady who I once thought didn't understand anything at all now has this all encompassing, unassuming wisdom. And the woman I was sure had no sense of humor and was the only other person on earth besides me who absolutely could not tell a joke is now the silliest person I know and keeps me laughing with her off the wall stories and unexpected crazy remarks. But the strangest thing is I was driving along a little while ago, talking to her on my cell phone in a spirited discussion like usual, when all of a sudden we AGREED on something! I had to pull off the road....
Look, if life were fair, I would have inherited her pretty singing voice, gorgeous handwriting, relentless thoughtfulness... or at least those dimples. But there you go. I got hammertoes and no sense of direction instead. That will be the basis of my lawsuit someday. When I'm feeling lucky enough to find a good attorney. But Mom, she's just plain lucky every day. Especially....
(Autumn, 1989)
1 comment:
Hey, Mudgie, it's Friday the 13th!
Happy Birthday!
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