May 11, 2010 - Tribute to Momma

Dearest Sarah,

Saturday morning, after I read my monthly StoryLink book on tape, I stopped by the chapel and joined the Residents Encounter Christ monthly fellowship service. After we'd sung some old hymns, Carlene asked if I'd say a few words about my mother. I agreed, and while we sang another song, I thought about your Grandma.

As you know, we come from country people on both sides. My mother's family lived on maybe 80 acres several miles north of the village of Lone Jack. They'd been there for several generations. Momma was born well after the first three children that Granny and Grandpa Snow brought into the world. As the story goes, at bedtime one night Grandpa suggested, "Mom, it's awful lonesome now that the kids are grown and gone. Let's have a baby." Evidently Granny agreed and at 40 years old which was nearly unheard of in those days, Granny gave birth to my mother, whose flashing brown eyes were so dark that it was said they looked like two burnt holes in a blanket. No baby was ever wanted more than this one.

I've seen the pictures and heard the stories, so I can guarantee that my mother was extraordinarily beautiful and talented. She sat at the big upright piano before she started school and played beautifully. She was routinely pulled out of her grade school classes to play piano for high school functions. If Momma hears a tune, she can play it. (I'd always heard that Momma's amazing ability to play by ear was a God-given talent, so all during my grade school years, I climbed up on the piano bench and ordered God to bestow upon me the same talent. This ploy never worked. Maybe I was too pushy, Lord.)

I may have the story wrong, but I heard that Daddy, not long after he graduated, noticed my junior-high-age momma in downtown Lone Jack and commented to his brother Joe that he planned to marry that girl when she grew up. (My mother blossomed early, not like me who is still waiting to bloom.) I think that Momma was keeping an eye on the tall handsome Frank Slaughter, too, so after she graduated from high school and went to live in a boarding house in the city to work for Hallmark Cards, Daddy drove his Model A out to the Snow farm, knocked on the door, and asked my Grandpa Snow if he could court his daughter. Grandpa must have liked the look of Daddy, because he gave his consent. Momma and Daddy married a few months later on Labor Day of 1948. (I came alone in July of the next year.)

Times were hard for country people in those days. Momma carried every drop of water that we used a long distance from the well to our old wood frame house. This water was heated on the stove for cooking, dishwashing, laundry, and bathing. We had no central furnace. All the heat came from a wood stove in the kitchen and a gas heater in the living room. When I was very young, Momma cooked on a wood stove. We had no indoor plumbing, so the outhouse was our toilet. If we didn't grow it or raise it, it was a luxury. Clothes were hand sewn. Shoes were precious because they were store bought.

As I painted this picture to the girls in the chapel, I clearly saw their expressions of disbelief and horror. These young city girls could not imagine existing with no running water. When I mentioned that my momma and granny made our dresses out of feed sacks, the girls pictured rough burlap bags. They didn't have the slightest idea that feed and flour came in bags made of pretty cotton prints. Maybe you don't either, Sarah!

If we wanted fried chicken, someone had to kill the chicken first and that person was Momma. The first time I really noticed how Momma stepped on a chicken's head to yank it off; it occurred to me that this was not the kind of woman to cross. Momma canned nearly everything that came out of our huge garden. She worked hard. She was up long before we were and was still working long after she tucked us in our clean sun-scented beds.

And with all this back-breaking unrelenting work, our house as happy and full of music and laughter. Momma loved big band tunes and classical piano. Daddy loved country, so we were raised with a wide variety of music. Television was not important in those days. When we did get one, it rarely worked, so we played games and music and were mostly outside. I always had a pony. Our life was glorious.

Momma and Daddy were young and so in love. My brother, sister, and I used to catch them "playing around" in the kitchen all the time. Momma rode in the front seat of our Nash Rambler snuggled up under Daddy's protective arm. Mary, Frankie and I loved that. To live in a house of love is a special gift.

During Saturday's service the young girls were visibly appalled at stories of my sweet young life, while the older men and women volunteers smiled dreamily to remember the simple times of our youth. We toiled diligently with few modern conveniences, but life was sweeter for it. I'd go back to those peaceful old days in a heartbeat.

I owe so much to my parents, my ancestors, and my whole family, but this weekend was focused on our mothers. While I spoke to the congregation about my mother Saturday, you, Carrie and Jane were taking your Grandma and Aunt Mary out to eat for Mother's Day. Somehow the timing seemed right—for me to honor her in word while you girls honored her in deed. I think the women-folk in our family are pretty doggone amazing, and I'm proud to be a mother in a long line of loving mothers!