Friday The 13th

                           

                                        M U D G I E
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. So my impression of her early on was of someone who could not savor the moment, or anything or anyone. 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 polished and vacuumed first thing in the morning, and then again just before Daddy was due home. Dinner was at exactly 4:30 when he came through that door. Without fail. Ironing piles of clothes began at 3 or 4 am. Friends could only come over to play outside, not in the clean house. When we did dishes, one of us girls would wash, one would dry. Mom would stand there with an extra dishtowel in hand, just in case an errant drop of water dared mar the countertop. She ate standing up in the kitchen, never sitting with us at the table. She'd be cooking and serving and cleaning up while eating dinner. Perfection must have seemed attainable in those days. We were organized. O.R.G.A.N.I.Z.E.D.

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.

Mudgie & Dort

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!

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.

Practice makes perfect, right?

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. 


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 impressive.

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.

"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.

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 body? (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 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.

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. My parents and sisters and I 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.

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 enfants, she was maybe even more worried that I wouldn't, 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.

Now that I have reached an over ripe age, I find that my Mom has become a different person than this Drill Sargent 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....

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 at least every month. So I would catch be caught off guard coming home from school to find the couch had moved to yet another different place.  It did seem to keep things fresh, and it didn't cost a penny back in those more frugal days. 

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 really enjoyed doing.  Little things.  Just little things.  Make such a difference.

The biggest lesson, the greatest thing I take from my Mom's example, from the day in and day out and year to year and 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!

Probably owe my appreciation and love of music to this woman.  What can move you more than beautiful music?  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....

 

Mom was born on Friday the 13th, graduated on Friday the 13th, has 13 letters in her name, 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!