A Woman Who Loved Life

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a tribute to my mother

When she was just eighteen Mama met my father and they started seeing each other. One summery Texas evening my father picked up my mother for a date and my grandparents told them that she had to be home by the time the moon set. So, for the entire night my to-be parents chased the moon so that it remained just above the horizon in their view, however far that view was from her parents sight! Eventually they found themselves in a small Mexican border town. My father said, “Let’s get married!” (At that time there was a mandatory three-day waiting period between getting a marriage license and the wedding; no such restrictions existed in Mexico.) It was an already hot, sultry morning, and as they were waiting for a Justice of the Peace to complete the paperwork my mom sat on a wooden chair. My father, foot propped on the same chair and leaning forward with his elbow resting on his knee, smoked a cigarette. The Justice of the Peace completed his paperwork, looked up at the couple and announced, “I now pronounce you man and wife.” That short and sweet, impromptu wedding lasted a lifetime.

My mother at 18
My Maternal Grandparents

My mother was born and raised on a ranch in the heart of Texas.  From the start she knew horses and she knew how to enjoy living.  While she never knew wealth, she knew how to work hard to achieve her goals which were relatively simple — a loving family, a farm, good food, and a little adventure here and there.  The truth is that she saw life as an adventure.

As a child I never lived in a place for more than four years.  My parents’ dream was to own a farm in Arkansas.  While that may sound like a not too ambitious dream it took them many years and numerous moves to various states to finally realize that ambition.  Repeatedly changing houses, states, schools, and friends might seem daunting for a child but it never was an issue for me; everything was an adventure for my mom and her unspoken life lesson for me was to embrace that adventure and to love new things.

family
my mom and sister

Hard work did not daunt this woman.  When she finally had her farm in Arkansas she whole-heartedly spent the long Arkansas summers working the land.  Alongside my father she planted, watered, weeded, and harvested a bounty of fruits and vegetables which she then shelled, snapped, chopped, canned, froze, and otherwise preserved for winter to feed not only the humans but livestock as well.  She milked cows, plucked chickens, ground sausage, butchered deer, and taught me to do all of the above.  She was living her dream.

My mother loved good food and even more she loved cooking good food.  My grandmother was German and passed down treasured German recipes to my mother.  As well Mama was through and through a southern girl and had mastered buttermilk battered fried chicken, mashed potatoes with milk gravy, fried okra, pecan pie, and all the other standard elements of southern cuisine.  In spite of that she was not afraid to have a cabinet filled with all sorts of exotic spice nor was she afraid to experiment with those flavors anytime she discovered some intriguing new way to combine them.  Food in our house could never have been described as bland!  All three of her children absorbed her love for food adventures and all three of my children (one a trained chef) have embraced their heritage of the enjoyment of good food and the preparation of dishes from around the globe as they explore their own culinary adventures.

Far beyond helping with schoolwork and studies my mother taught me life skills.  She taught me to speed type on one of those old-fashioned typewriters that build finger muscles.  On a black metal Singer, which was just a step above a treadle machine, she taught me to sew my own clothes.  She taught me to balance a budget, and she taught me to cook over a campfire.  When I wanted to be an artist my mother bought supplies and lessons and hung my framed masterpieces on the wall.  She lovingly encouraged me in everything I wanted to be or do.

My earliest memories are of sitting in a big chair beside my mother with a thick, blue Bible story book in her lap.  Daily she read to me all the stories of the Bible.  The Word of God was hidden in my heart long before I was old enough read it.  The greatest gift my mother gave me is the greatest gift that can be given.  She taught me to love God.

Tashan, the Arabian and Redneck, the Maine Coon

After I was already grown and on my own and she was still very much young at heart, Mama purchased Arabian horses and helped my sister break them.  She learned to scuba in the Bahamas and to ski in Colorado.  If she had been wealthy no doubt she would have seen the world.  She did get to travel, but only a little.  But that didn’t matter because to my mother every day was a new adventure waiting to be explored.  My dear, fun, life embracing mother was a woman with the extraordinary gift of seeing the ordinary as adventure.

Mama in center holding Katrina at Kuskokwim 300 dog sled race, Bethel, AK 1981
One of the last photos I have of my mom
Family

“She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come.” 

Proverbs 31:25

“To live is the rarest thing in the world.  Most people exist, that is all.”

Oscar Wilde, goodreads.com

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