The Amazing Magical Mind of Mom

Being a 9 year old boy on a small farm in Centerville, Utah with endless chores and things that needed doing, fixing or building at times, was overwhelming. Mom on the other hand seemed to have figured out you could only do what you could do, so why worry about everything else. My father was not of the same ilk. Each day when I arrived home from school there was something that needed attending too, a cow that I needed to learn how to milk; pigs, chickens, rabbits and cows to feed.  Pens to clean, trees to prune, ground to plow, or rocks to clear. Now I had several brothers and sisters to help in these endeavors, so thankfully I was not left alone in most of these tasks, yet there were many that my mother and I tackled together. Besides my mother's singing voice, was her amazing mind. She had a way to tell a story that would allow me to hear, smell and seemly touch the very places she would describe. I would later recognize the stories as her variations of Huck Finn, Aladdin, Peter Pan, and many Greek and Roman legends. Her ability to manipulate time was magical and dark often caught us before our task was complete. I would wonder in awe where several hours had vanished and why I felt so sore and exhausted when all I had done was listen. She was preparing me for the many times she wouldn't be there...when I would desperately need her magical spell of the comfort to hide in those stories when I was scared, nervous or lonely. How powerful a legacy to leave. That amazing ability I know has been past on to many in our family as I watch the work you do professionally, as hobbies, and with your families. How very pleased mom would be to see the immense creativity that her children and grandchildren use and share. I look at Chris's photographs with wonder and stories come flooding to mind, Josh's sets and I am transported, read the writings of so many of my nieces and daughters, see first hand my sons' personal gifts, witness the many talents of each of the children of my brothers and sisters, I know that mom is alive and well and running through the veins of those she loved.

My chores sometimes started with a treasure hunt, of the most unusual kind. I would come home and there would be a slice of Red Barons Frozen Pizza or a freshly toasted peanut butter and honey open faced sandwich. I would be asked to choose one. When I had finished, the piece of paper under the food item would lead me to my first clue. Five or six clues later I would find my fate...which chore, and alone or with mom. I always got to eat the other food item which was good. Now that I think of it, mom was the one who told me I might be working alone and I dreaded that outcome, but it never happened, maybe there was never and end slip with alone on it... so for my ninth or tenth birthday my mother held a birthday party for the neighborhood kids and my friends, and yes I actually had a few, which ended up being an epic treasure hunt. ( I later learned my sister, Lynne, had helped my mother plan. Now there was another truly extraordinary woman that was taken from this earth way to soon for my liking... I miss her to often and deeply. ) So 10 to 12 kids given maps of burnt parchment, with clues and markers spread out over several acres, working as teams or as individuals it was your choice, the theme was of course pirates. The hunt took an hour or so, time was my mom's ally, and focus for this age group was no easy task. At the end we all seemed to come to the treasure close to the same time, there we dug, in a pile a gravel to find a chest filled with birthday bobbles, gold coin chocolates, jeweled hard candies, strings of pearls (hand strung mints on string), crowns, and cups of gold. We divided the loot and sat for a feast, my older brother even figured a way to have cannons with pipes and firecrackers announcing my ninth or tenth birthday.

Mom was amazing in so many ways. Her mind, though I am sure knew fear of failure, never seemed to allow it to stop her from trying something new. I will speak of this later, for this is one of the lessons she taught that has served me all my life.

This is my mother most famous Gertudism...

Gertudism#5 Frustration is the immature inability to cope

  

The Closet

      I sit on a very hard wood chair staring at the opaque glass in front of me, mouth open, and my ears tingle. My mother is on the other side of that glass yelling at my elementary school principal. I have never heard her raise her voice to anyone outside our family...Now I know my mother wasn't perfect and with nine kids, a farm, and a traveling salesman for a husband, she was not a stranger to raising her voice, a temper or discipline, but time has an amazing way of softening the harshness of life and amplifying the good. I was disciplined considerably more than the rest of my siblings and my mother, knowing me well, knew that I couldn't stay in this world when I was having fun and engaged. My mind would wander to my own little world, so time out was just an invitation to explore and I would never understand its purpose or why I was being punished. There wasn't anything to take away( except baseball, my first true love ) and that would be more a punishment for mom than me. So her choice was spanking. She had three preferred methods, all of which I think caused her more pain than me (Hand, Belt, magazine (my favorite)). These corporal punishments were potent, concise, and not up for interpretation. I knew without a doubt why and what I had done. But I digress...

         My mother was yelling. Here is the reason why, several months earlier my third grade teacher Miss Firebaugh had run out of yardstick to break over me and patience. (next time you see me look at my left ear lobe. It is longer than the other one, it was her favorite to drag me out of class with) On the second floor of the old Centerville Elementary school was a converted Janitor's closet approx. 6 by 8 feet. It had two dirty windows and a green tile floor two wall staked with books no longer used in classrooms from Kindergarten to 6th grade. and two desk that faced each other. (they would use it for detention every once in a while).

     That is where I would spend between three to five hours a day, I remember once feeling so cloistered that I took my t-shirt off, spit on the window, and rubbed a small quarter size clean spot so I could peak at the mountains to the east. I couldn't read, but I knew what all the pictures were, so when I saw a picture of a dog I figure out a way to lift the letters off the page in my mind, rearrange them so they made sense and run them across my eyes in front of the picture of the dog. So it went, I didn't complain because it was challenging to get more and more words at once to flow, soon it took little effort to lift, rearrange, and redirect the words. The problem was and is to this day that often I had no idea what they meant or how to pronounce them.

     My world came crashing in shortly before school ended. There in my closet, the teacher didn't realize that since it was a janitor's closet first there had been a ventilation grate placed in the door and that when the teachers gathered by the drinking fountain their words would echo in the small room as if I were in a bell tower and someone had rung the bell. Most of the time they were just words and just noise, but this day my teacher was there and my name was spoken, one of the teacher asked how I was doing? " I don't know. I'm not sure he will ever get it. I think he might have a bit of retardation."  I knew that word. I closed my book and tears began to flow, at lunch I went to the office and told them I was sick. Ruby drove my mother to the school to get me (since she didn't drive) I was silent all they way home. My mother knew I wasn't sick, but didn't press me.

     I'm not sure why, I went straight to my thinking place. At our Centerville home we had a root cellar. On the south side was a beautiful rock garden. There was a larger rock in the middle with snow on the mountain around it and hen and chick (a small plant ) next to it that I liked. I climbed on it and cried as I wondered when they would come and take me from my family and put me in the special place for retarded people like me. I wondered if my mom could come visit me, if I would have friends and if they served any thing but oatmeal... I didn't like oatmeal. Most of all I was going to miss my family. Finally my mom couldn't take it any longer and came out to sit next to me which was hard for her. Ruby stayed by the house. I told her everything, as always..my mother wept as if someone had hit her. I didn't understand. I thought she was worried they were going to take me away too. She must have read my mind for she grabbed me so fiercely it shocked me and told me no one will ever take me from her, that I was brilliant, smart, and clever, another first for me and oh how she loved me! She told me it would be okay, to go play, then I saw something I had never seen after my mother finished talking with Ruby, the color of her face matched her name. 

      A note: To this day I struggle with the impact of these few little words, be very careful with the words you say. You can never remove the power they carry. You want your kids to be brats call them that, want them to be bad call them bad, even terms of endearment can have lasting effects. Please think twice before opening your mouth in anger or hate.


Gertrudism #4 "You want to irritate someone that is mad at you forgive them "

The Dream

So I woke from a very real dream, I must have been around seven. You will understand why that is significant soon. So you understand a little about my brain due to my not being able to read when I was younger I taught myself how to memorize thing so I could get by. I have five dreams that are so indelibly imprinted on my mind that they can be consistently recalled with the details of an engraver plate. This was one of those dreams, but it is the only one that is pleasant, peaceful, and beautiful.  It is the only one I choose to ever recall. It was spring. I was still in school because I remember being very distracted wondering if the woman in my dreams was outside in the beautiful sunshine, the blooming flowers and green grass. When I finally arrived home as was custom, my mother was there occupied in one of the many things she was required to do, however as always was the case she stopped what she was doing to wrap me in her arms, kiss the top of my head, and ask how my day had been. When my answer was just as distracted, she knew something was up, especially after she had offered me food and I said  not right now...with as large a family as we had in as small a house as we lived there was no privacy anywhere. There was a chair in the corner of the living room (mom would pay me to sit there, I don’t think I ever earned the money) I could sit half on the arm without feeling like I was hurting mom, she had this way of talking with me that let me feel safe talking about anything and that continued until the day she died, I told her of my dream: I was in a beautiful field of waste high grass that is soft with just the slight moisture that has been warmed by the sun, for once I am clean from head to toe my clothes are beautiful and pressed, I had no shoes on but the ground is comfortable and enjoyable to walk on, the air is alive with noise: I hear insects, birds, dogs and many other animals I know, I am completely safe in fact I feel at home though I never seen this place. My attention is focused on a large tree a short distance away. I can't tell its type but I know I want to climb it to the very top. As I get closer I can hear the stream unmistakable in its rhythm, percussion and tempo. I am now standing at the stream the tree on the other side and to my surprise this beautiful young woman in a flowing white dress with small yellow daisy embroider around the hem, bouts and sleeves. She was maybe 21 or 22 had long dishwater blonde hair a slightly crooked but brilliant smile and intense sparkling eyes...Her eye reminded me of mom's, kind and caring, I trusted her immediately. She held out her hands and walked to the middle of the stream she also had no shoes which I thought was real neat, I joined her in the middle of the creek and we laughed at the coolness of the water her hands were warm and gentle but held tightly to mine, she bent down the bottom of her dress was now wet but she didn’t seem to mind, she wrapped her arms around me and picked me up and carried me to the tree. We sat for a long time saying nothing; me just nuzzled under her arm while she stroked my hair and hummed a soft tune (I later found out was edelweiss ) the last thing I remember is falling asleep in her arms with her saying " it's ok go to sleep little brother"  My mother was crying. I didn’t know what I had said or what I had done wrong. I was worried, nor did I understand why the woman in my dream would say that. My mother saw my concern; when she got control of her emotion she explained and called me her little angel (now that was a first and I think only time) My older sister Kathy drowned when she was seven, about my age, my mother had been missing her and wondering about her and her progression. I was smoother with kisses and was suddenly very hungry which mom was more than happy to remedy. Now I might have heard about my sister dying before that time but to my knowledge I hadn't and to find out that I had an older sister named Kathy in the way I did seem ok to me because I already knew she loved me had an amazing smile and maybe even a touch of my mischief disorder they way she entered the stream with a smile, laugh with her only care being me.

Gertrudism#3 " holding a grudge only effects you! the other person probably doesn't even know or care your mad at them"

 

The Quilt

     As I look up just a couple feet above my head I watch the rhythm of the fabric that looks like a wave to me as needles pierce its skin just to be returned to the other side I lay sprawled out with feet of all kinds surrounding me...thousands of words it seems but I am not paying attention to that, my mother has her friends over and they are quilting and I have found my happy place. Having been born with a slight disorder of innate mischief always coming to mind first this was heaven to me, my mother even though looking back must have been concerned having me out of slight amongst her friends feet yet I never remember not feeling welcome or wanted. Now to the feet: As soon as some of the ladies arrived their shoes came off , some came in slippers, some always in nylons and formal shoes, many wore nail polish other did not some were hairy which a young boy failed to understand since I knew they where all women... remember my disorder, well I would see which ladies would allow me to tickle their feet, Bonnie Tanner would fuss, giggle and kick at me, Maryellen Smoot knew me well enough and that I had the attention span of a bug so she didn’t flinch no fun I moved on very quickly, but Ruby Brown became my soul Mate yes very large pun intended. Ruby I believe was one of my mother best friend they seemed to enjoy each others company and spent a great deal of time together which I was often part of (trips to See's Candies, ZCMI, Lunch at that Tiffin Room, and hours at the Genealogy Library ) When Ruby knew I was under the quilt I could count on the loud squirt of lotion from the tube she carried and then her feet would appear. The game was to make the lotion disappear on her feet why you might ask? Well Ruby was magic...somehow when I wasn’t watching she would place trinkets between her toes after I had finish rubbing her feet. Dimes, wrapped candies, super balls and somehow a yoyo. I remember my giggling at my treasures and having my laughter returned in genuine love by Ruby and my mother. More than once I fell soundly asleep between the feet of these two women whom taught and loved me. Remember the widow's mite from the last post not a single quilt that I know of was my mothers...

Gertrudism #2 "Life's not fair the sooner you learn it the happier you will be"

The Tiffin Room

Into the past

      I start this with some trepidation due to the fact that what I will share are some of the most prized memories I own, but recent experiences had lead me share events that mom and I were part of. So in true Gertrude fashion I will share what I have; if you find value you will find a way to safe harbor it and keep it, if it is a mild entertainment wonderful enjoy the story , if it holds no value consider it an ad for the next great fix all pill and do accordingly . I believe my... mother lived her life this way, she gave to all everything she could regardless of what they thought of her gifts, she truly lived her life giving the last widow mite to all. 
  

       We lived on a small farm in Centerville Utah my mother had a couple of Sunday dress I remember, but mostly her mumus (non fitted tent dress made of polyester jersey material) I think she like the soft feel, than again I cant remember when one of her 9 kids wasn't hanging on her and I know i loved the comfort of the jersey I can still feel today. In her mumu sometime with shoes sometime without we would climb around the low foothills to bring the irrigation water to the various parts of the small farm, I was to small to do it on my own most of the time my brother would do it but sometime mom would and I loved it when she did...I would follow and listen as the clear summer skies echo "oh holy night or the hush of Silent night or Little town of Bethlehem" I remember vividly looking to sky thinking that at any moment it must sure start to snow. Or to see the dust and palm fawns the cobbled street goliath, the garden and the empty tomb as "I walked to today" echoed through the cherry trees. She would often tell me the story before sing me the song I think she knew my mind went where she sung. More than once the cloud parts and angels came down in this little boy imagination clothed in red, gold and white as "oh that I were an angle " rang out with her beautiful clear strong voice. One day lost in this very scene my mother stopped with a slight laugh, I open my eyes to see what had stop her singing, there smiling down at me a glint in her eye the irrigation water had reached where I was sitting my feet covered in mud and as was must customary dress all I had on was a pair of underwear which where know completely submerge...she held her hand out pull me to her..and even through I am an old man the tear flow freely and my heart burst with joy as I remember as if yesterday "come hear Eric you are a special little boy and I love you" as she wrapped me in her arm wet, muddy but complete satisfied to find refuge with the warmth of her bosom wrapped in the softest of jersey Again she had given her last widow mite to a small muddy boy and how grateful I am.

Gertrudism : saying my mother loved don't know where they came from or why they were important but she used them often with me.

Gertrudism #1 "Gratitude is the only path to joy in any venture "

To be continued