Mom's Month

My mom was one of those bigger than life kind of people that you run into once in a while.  She dressed in bright colors, wore lots of sparkly rings and hangy-downy earrings, always had a smile on her face and greeted everyone she met with welcoming enthusiasm.  She doused herself in expensive perfume which was sometimes a little hard to take.  She loved purses and treated herself to new ones regularly. One time she really wanted this particular spendy bag at Nordstrom. She "convinced" my dad that she needed it by carrying her purse contents in a paper bag one time when they left to run errands.  Dad stopped at Nordstrom on the way. She had a loud and hearty laugh that used to embarrass me when I was a teenager and I remember praying that no one would say anything funny.  Of course, that prayer wasn't answered.  It didn't need to be.

Mom used to say that there are only two kinds of people in this world:  Those who like Neil Diamond and those who don't.  She actually had many more categories for people groups but that's the one that recently surfaced.  She could fix all kinds of things by using "a trick she learned in the Army."  That expression irritated my sister but I grew up thinking she really HAD been in the Army so it made all kinds of sense to me. Mom could sing and whistle beautifully.  Our house was always full of music when I was growing up and much of it emanated from her special brand of musical talent.  She could recite poems she'd learned in grade school.  It was a great day when both of us could recite "I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud" together.

She always behaved like a lady.  I wonder if anyone even remembers what that means.  I received more instruction than I ever needed in how to behave like a lady.  Some of the requirements are that you always carry a tissue, have mad money tucked away in your purse, never swear, always wear perfume, and always maintain the impression that you are in perfect health and that your world couldn't be more pleasant even if the dog just died and you broke out in an inexplicable rash.  She sometimes invited near strangers to holiday dinners simply because they had no other place to go. She was a terrific self-taught cook and made homemade bread for years. I was embarrassed to take homemade bread sandwiches to school so I'd eat them in the gym where my friend Ann would trade her potato chips for some of my bread.

My mom was the central figure in my world until my husband and children joined her in that circle.  Every  day was a special day just for her.