Happy Mom's Day

My first Mother’s Day was celebrated on May 10th, 1964, exactly one week after our son, Eric, was born. Eric’s birth came as a big surprise to both Jim and me as our baby was not due for another month. He arrived at 4 pounds 14 ounces and remained in the hospital (DAFB) until reaching the required 5 pound mark. So that is where we celebrated my first Mother’s Day, sort of unusual but a very joyous one! Like most preemies, one would never guess today that Eric fit into that category.

In 1966 I celebrated being the mother of two, Eric and Erica (don’t ask as I have no idea where those names came from). Erica was a full-term baby, almost, and arrived at 6 pounds 7 ½ ounces. She was born just after Jim’s separation from the Air Force so she was a civilian baby making her first appearance at Dover’s Kent General Hospital. We were in on a Friday evening and out on Sunday afternoon.

Eric & Erica at around 4 & 5 years old.

This year will be my 57th Mother’s Day celebration. That seems very unreal! My Jacksonville daughter always makes a point of visiting that day, my son not so much as he lives in North Dakota, but distance celebratory sharing is not as much of a problem as it used to be. Thanks to Covid-19 we now have Zoom.

During those 57 years I have been given grandchildren and great grandchildren providing many more voices of celebration. 

This is one of my very favorite cards from Erica’s Mandy and Jimmy, two of my grandchildren. The card is about 25 years old.

I have to include my 2 great grandsons who are fairly new additions to the family. I can’t wait to get Mother’s Day cards from them but that will be a while yet. Their mother is Eric’s Connie Elizabeth, my granddaughter who was named after me (the Connie part).

Russell (2+) and Colt (7 mos.)

My own mother passed away in 1975 and I have missed her now for 45 Mother’s Day celebrations, missed but always remembered not just on Mother’s Day but everyday. Below are some keepsakes from my mommy. In the photo I am probably around 3 years old. The picture was taken at the end of my pop-pop’s farmhouse lane in Caroline County, Maryland, near the town of Ridgely. We most likely had walked down to the mailbox. The little bauble is a pin found in “Mom’s” cedar box, one of many, but this one bears that special word Mother.

I remember going to the Holiday Inn restaurant at the corner of Newberry and Tower Road for their Mother’s Day special buffet. Usually, we went after church with other couples. They had every food you could imagine including scrumptious desserts and even a long-stemmed red rose for all the mommies. It was sad to see them close many years ago.

Even those who have no babies can still celebrate Mother’s Day. We all have a mommy, right? So I wish everyone a happy Mother’s Day and may we all stay safe and healthy and be around to celebrate many more.

Christmases Past

Christmas has always been a happy time for me, and now, without Jim, I have many memories of happiness for comfort. I remember three Christmases in particular as I think about the holidays of the past.

One is an image of teens, boys in white shirts and dark trousers, and girls in white blouses and dark skirts. The year was 1960 and I was among this group as we progressed, two-by-two, up the center aisle of my high school auditorium. Each of us held a lighted candle in our right hand with little paper drip pans pushed up through the bottoms. All the girls wore corsages of sprigs of holly tied with a red bow, which we had helped to pin on each other as we waited in the library. We sang the words to “O Come All Ye Faithful” as we slowly walked to the front of the auditorium, and we glowed in the admiration of the onlookers, our parents and friends filling every seat. 

We filed into the rows of our designated seating and blew out our candles, wisps of white smoke floating upward. We heard the special music of soloists, one I remember in particular.. She was a tiny little girl with long black curly hair, but her voice was anything but tiny. I don’t remember her name. She was younger and in a lower grade than I was, but when she began to sing “Oh Holy Night”, I got goose bumps all over. She was magnificent and captured the complete attention of the entire audience. I’m thankful for this special Christmas memory of my junior year in the glee club.

Another Christmas I remember well was my first with Jim as his wife. He was an Airman Second Class at Dover Air Force Base, and, of course, we were poor. I think his monthly allotment was something like $125. Credit cards were still in the future and our rented living quarters were tiny. We managed to get a small tree and a few decorations and lights from my Mom. I can see myself sitting on the sofa in the dark, watching them blink on and off as I waited for Jim to come home on Christmas Eve.

The only presents under the little tree were from our relatives, and we agreed presents were not important between the two of us. We were happy just to be together. But when Jim came home, he was carrying a huge heavy gift-wrapped box. I couldn’t imagine what it could be, and I knew whatever it was, we had no money for it.

He wanted me to unwrap it right away and I was eager enough. There would be time for questions later. It turned out to be a portable stereo record player and in another package there was an album of our favorite songs by Peter, Paul, and Mary. We played that album until we knew the words of every song and the order in which they would come up. Jim’s favorite, Old Stewball and mine, Blowin in the Wind, were played over and over that night and for many weeks afterwards. Nothing could have made me happier

Even later when I found out the way the present came into being, my enthusiasm remained high. It seems Sears and Roebuck had discovered a way for everyone to spend money in their store for Christmas. It was called a revolving charge account. I won’t tell how much that stereo ended up costing. But it was worth every penny.

The third Christmas I think of is a sad one, but has ended up being a wonderfully happy memory for many people. In the summer of 1986, Jack, Jim’s older brother, was diagnosed with colon cancer. Surgery revealed the cancer had already spread, and he was given less than a year to live. As Christmas neared, his family decided to make it a very special one since it might be his last. All Jack’s friends and relatives were invited to a huge Christmas party in his honor. People brought every food imaginable, games were played, the kids, and even some grownups, put on hilarious skits and went out of their comfort zones for laughter and memories.

One of Jack’s daughters took rolls of pictures and had copies made for all the relatives. I still have my set and always pull it out near Christmas time each year. Everyone looks so happy, doing their very best to make Jack’s Christmas special. I always get a warm feeling as I see the faces of love in those pictures.

I have many other happy Christmas memories, but these three are way up there at the top of the list, and it makes me feel good just by sharing them.

Remembering Christmas Past

Christmas has always been a happy time for me, and now, without Jim, I have many memories of happiness for comfort. I remember three Christmases in particular as I think about the holidays of the past.

One is an image of teens, boys in white shirts and dark trousers, and girls in white blouses and dark skirts. The year was 1960 and I was among this group as we progressed, two-by-two, up the center aisle of my high school auditorium. Each of us held a lighted candle in our right hand with little paper drip pans pushed up through the bottoms. All the girls wore corsages of sprigs of holly tied with a red bow, which we had helped to pin on each other as we waited in the library. We sang the words to “O Come All Ye Faithful” as we slowly walked to the front of the auditorium, and we glowed in the admiration of the onlookers, our parents and friends filling every seat. 

We filed into the rows of our designated seating and blew out our candles, wisps of white smoke floating upward. We heard the special music of soloists, one I remember in particular.. She was a tiny little girl with long black curly hair, but her voice was anything but tiny. I don’t remember her name. She was younger and in a lower grade than I was, but when she began to sing “Oh Holy Night”, I got goose bumps all over. She was magnificent and captured the complete attention of the entire audience. I’m thankful for this special Christmas memory of my junior year in the glee club.

Another Christmas I remember well was my first with Jim as his wife. He was an Airman Second Class at Dover Air Force Base, and, of course, we were poor. I think his monthly allotment was something like $125. Credit cards were still in the future and our rented living quarters were tiny. We managed to get a small tree and a few decorations and lights from my Mom. I can see myself sitting on the sofa in the dark, watching them blink on and off as I waited for Jim to come home on Christmas Eve.

The only presents under the little tree were from our relatives, and we agreed presents were not important between the two of us. We were happy just to be together. But when Jim came home, he was carrying a huge heavy gift-wrapped box. I couldn’t imagine what it could be, and I knew whatever it was, we had no money for it.

He wanted me to unwrap it right away and I was eager enough. There would be time for questions later. It turned out to be a portable stereo record player and in another package there was an album of our favorite songs by Peter, Paul, and Mary. We played that album until we knew the words of every song and the order in which they would come up. Jim’s favorite, Old Stewball and mine, Blowin in the Wind, were played over and over that night and for many weeks afterwards. Nothing could have made me happier

Even later when I found out the way the present came into being, my enthusiasm remained high. It seems Sears and Roebuck had discovered a way for everyone to spend money in their store for Christmas. It was called a revolving charge account. I won’t tell how much that stereo ended up costing. But it was worth every penny.

The third Christmas I think of is a sad one, but has ended up being a wonderfully happy memory for many people. In the summer of 1986, Jack, Jim’s older brother, was diagnosed with colon cancer. Surgery revealed the cancer had already spread, and he was given less than a year to live. As Christmas neared, his family decided to make it a very special one since it might be his last. All Jack’s friends and relatives were invited to a huge Christmas party in his honor. People brought every food imaginable, games were played, the kids, and even some grownups, put on hilarious skits and went out of their comfort zones for laughter and memories.

One of Jack’s daughters took rolls of pictures and had copies made for all the relatives. I still have my set and always pull it out near Christmas time each year. Everyone looks so happy, doing their very best to make Jack’s Christmas special. I always get a warm feeling as I see the faces of love in those pictures.

I have many other happy Christmas memories, but these three are way up there at the top of the list, and it makes me feel good just by sharing them.

Portage

I am deep into Orphan Train, our book club selection for May. The word "portage" is mentioned several times in the book. It is a school assignment for one of the main characters, and I believe it is a tool used to show the book's theme. A dictionary definition says, "the carrying of a boat or its cargo between two navigable waters."

I've been thinking about what I would say if I had to describe my "portage". What have I chosen to take along on my life's journey from early childhood until today? It seems poignant because of all the memories I have been writing about. I wonder why I choose to remember certain things and put them into words.

And then there are all the things I have chosen to save or keep, carrying them from place to place as I have moved, never getting rid of them. I see all those photo albums that I hang onto like they are gold. I see old pictures displayed in their frames. I see Grandmom's sewing machine. I see the Scrabble board. I see ancient vinyl with its recent purchase of a new turntable. Why did I feel the need to buy that? To listen again? I see fishing poles sitting in the corner of the garage. I see gifts I continue to use remembering the people associated with them.

Portage. When does it become too heavy a load?