My Mother's Apron

My mother, Octavia Jane Dennis Reese died much too young leaving seven people devastated, my father and her six adult children.  Yes, fortunately we were all adults by the time of her death but we still felt we needed her.  She was our advisor, our confidant.

A few weeks after we buried our mother in the family plot beside her parents my sisters and I met to decide what was to become of Mom's personal items - her clothes and jewelry.  Although there really wasn't much to go through it took us most of the day to neatly pack her good clothes in a box so that they could be donated to charity and her older work clothes were trashed.  She had no good jewelry except the simple white gold engagement ring with one small diamond and a matching plain wedding band and the grandmother's ring her children had bought her for Christmas less than a month earlier.  Dad had already given us the good jewelry before the funeral.

That evening Dad and his four girls sat around the kitchen table and told stories; mostly crazy things our mother had done throughout the years raising six wild children.  And of course once again we laughed as Dad told about the time Mom set the decorative grass on fire which got out of control burning his eye lashes and eye brows off. 

During the story telling session we looked around the kitchen imaging Mom standing at the sink washing thousands of dishes while we happily laughed and played cards.  And then someone noticed Mom's old apron hanging on the door of the large walk-in pantry.  Somehow, none of us had the heart to take it or get rid of the old blue flowered apron with red trim.  Oh, the stories that apron could tell.  It wasn't a pretty frilly little apron for show.  That apron was used for canning green beans and tomatoes, for fixing hundreds of meals, for cooking and cleaning and for wiping snotty noses.  She was wearing that apron the last time we saw her alive.

That old apron hung on the pantry door for several years and then during one of my visits I noticed it was no longer there.  Dad must have removed it.  No one asked.  It was time for him to move on.  And he did move on.  Five years after my mother's death he started dating and married a very nice woman.

The death of someone dear to you is extremely difficult and has the tendency to change a person.  When our mother, advisor, confidant, and consular died a part of us died too.  However we learned later that her death changed us.  In our grief we had learned to be wiser and stronger individuals.

I still wonder whatever happened to that apron.

Ladies Cruz 2012

Last year the Looking Glass Corvette Club had its "Ladies Cruz" in the little village of Lebanon, IL.  My daughter and I borrowed Darrell's corvette and spent an enjoyable day with 60 other ladies.  We spent a wad of money on things we did not really need just as all red blooded American women do when they have the opportunity to shop and enjoy the company of other women.

This year's event was in Effingham IL at Mid America Motor Works.  The ladies were invited to tour the company followed by a light lunch with the owners, Mike and Laurie Yager at their fabulous home.

My daughter was unavailable so I asked Ida, my best friend since childhood to accompany me.  Funny how things like this work out.  This event turned out to be something my daughter would not appreciate like Ida did.

I picked up Ida at 7 AM so we could exchange my dirty little truck for Darrell's perfectly maintained 2007 silver corvette with black convertible top to join the other 48 ladies at the designated meeting spot for the cruise at 8 AM.  I was given very good directions to reach our meeting place but as usual, I talk too much and pay way too little attention to where I am going --- resulting in missing my turn off and ending up 20 miles out of my way thus missing my connection with the ladies.

Not to worry - I put the petal to the metal and caught up with the ladies in no time flat. (I think I scared Ida but I had lots of confidence in my driving abilities and the power under the hood of that corvette.)

We were met at Mid America Motor Works by the owner and a few employees who took us on a tour.  Interesting but certainly not the lure of the event.  The high light of the day was having lunch with Mike and Laurie around the pool (shaped like the GM symbol) at their home (also known as a mansion).  (My little cottage would fit comfortably in the pool house.)  Mike and Laurie were the perfect host, meeting and greeting each and every lady and welcoming us like old friends.

For years I have been told that corvette owners were snobs and ass holes.  Now that I have spent the last couple of years running around with Darrell and his friends from the Looking Glass Corvette Club I find this to be false.  I have not met a single corvette owner that I have not liked immediately.  Now I have met this self-made millionaire and find him to be a wonderful human being.  What other surprises have I to learn about human nature?

Being a Perfectly Imperfect Grandmother

This weekend I was blessed with two of my four grandchildren, Wesley and Alysa.  God couldn't have blessed me with two more precious loving children.  In saying this I must also mention that God has a sense of humor, both children are hyper active and extremely emotional.  Therefore time spent with them can be very nerve wrecking.

The important thing to know here is that I am not the conventional grandmother.  I am a free spirit grandmother and my grandchildren know and love that freakish side of me.  My dining room table does not hold a vase of fresh cut flowers.  Instead it is covered with art supplies and art projects my grandchildren and I have been working on.

What I have learned is that NONE of us ever feel like we are doing it (what ever IT might be) just right ... but that everyone of us is really doing our very best.  Being both a mother and grandmother is the hardest job I have ever had - the most precious, amazing, difficult job.  It is not always fun and there is so many things in our lives that simply stink....and I'm not good at that stinky stuff.

This weekend with Wesley and Alysa was one of the good stuff.  It began with a trip to the park to feed the geese and ducks.  While feeding the water fowl Wesley excitedly yelled for my attention.  (Everything Wesley does is "Excitedly".)  He had found a mother with her babies.  The perfect mother who had complete control over her ten baby ducklings.  The type of mother I had never been, not even now that I am a grandmother.

Later the children entertained me with plays they wrote, directed choreographed and acted in just for little ole me.  They were amazingly fun and imperfect as they are and as their grandmother is.  I recall doing the same decades ago to entertain my perfect grandmother.

That is when it hit me like a ton of bricks!  I thought then and now that I was blessed with perfectly wonderful grandparents.  They probably felt as imperfect as I do.  We all judge ourselves much too harshly.

Let's be good to each other.  Let's not compare ourselves to each other and let's not judge each other.  No one knows what goes on in our lives to make us behave as we do.  We are all imperfect one way or another.

Here's to celebrating the imperfect part of all of us!  Hip Hip Hooray!

The Little Brown Cup

Yesterday I received the most delightful gift, well actually two gifts!

1: Lil' Mary Margaret (sister) came to visit me.
2: She brought me a little brown cup filled with fresh cut flowers.

The cup was not just any cup, it was a brown earthen ware cup popular back in the 60s.  Mary had found it at an antique store, shed a little tear of joy, and bought it immediately.  It was like the one our mother drank her morning tea from.

Actually half the women in town drank their morning beverage from this style of cup.  Back during the 60's companies gave away china to encourage patronage.  This particular style was given to the customers of the Kroger stores.  With every purchase the customer was given stamps and an empty book to save the stamps.  When the book was full the customer could choose a piece of earthen ware consisting of cups and saucers, dinner and salad plates, pitchers, serving dishes, sugar and creamer bowls and of course salt and pepper shakers. 

One would think it would take a long time to fill up the books but not when you are feeding six children, four of which are teenagers.  Mom had a service for eight or ten.  She also had a service of twelve real china she got the same way for special occasions.  I think Dad still has the china tucked away in his china cabinet.

Simple abundance is everywhere if you take the time to look.  Thanks Mary for taking the time.

Here I Go Again

So there I was one day last week just doing my thing and going about my business when suddenly, out of the blue I started crying.  Not little tears welling up softly around the edges of my eyes.  No, great big monstrous tears rolling down my cheeks accompanied by sobs of despair.

Where the hell did that come from?

That's the way depression hits sometimes.  Suddenly like a bolt of lightning only instead of bright light and tingling with energy this is a bolt of uncontrollable melancholy that hurts like you've been struck across the face really hard but there is no one there to get bad at for striking you.  This is an invincible pain that hurts so bad it drops you to your knees but you don't know why.  It's heavy chains holding you in a deep dark dungeon where no one can hear your cries for help.

Not to worry, I have tools in my toolbox for occasions such as this.  The first strike is the hardest because it comes without warning.  I have contacted my doctor (that is always fun trying to explain the problem through uncontrollable burst of sobs) and am back on my meds.  Lot of good that does since it takes a month before they work.

My toolbox is chock full of good things to get me through the next three weeks until my serotonin is back to normal.  Once again I've gotten out my paints and art journal.  My art journal is not full of sunny happy pictures but that is not the place I occupy at this moment.  Those days will return. 

I am starting to feel optimistic once again just being able to acknowledge that I believe in my future.