It’s uncanny, but guess what? Some of my eccentricities and habits have been acquired from my Mom. Like Esther, I tap my foot when I’m impatient and rub my first and third finger together. I also save clippings from magazines and newspapers on our refrigerator. Mom would affix favorite quotes, poetry and jokes with tiny magnetic fruits to our white frig at the jail. I now find myself taping cards from friends, artwork, jokes and invitations to the front of our frig just like Mom. She had a magnetic frig; I don’t, so I use tape.
It’s unsettling how many of our parents’ habits might have annoyed us as kids, but today we have those habits. Who can control the “Ufda’s” and “Ya’s” that slip off our tongues? Who hasn’t shaken an angry, pointed finger and said, “I told you not to do that”? How many of you iron like Mom? Remember collections popular in Mom’s day? Evelyn Husom had a large salt and pepper collection displayed on her kitchen wall. Mom collected china cups and saucers; now they’re gathering dust in my cupboard. Others collected plates commerating a church anniversary or silver spoons, some with the name of a place they had visited or a gift from being a bridesmaid. Candlesticks, china and glass figurines, teapots, and tiny vases were also collected. Did you save Mom’s favorite, food-splattered recipes for “comfort” foods from the fifties? Vegetable soup is simmering on my stove today, but unlike Mom’s recipe, I don’t add rutabagas.
Mom must have had a dozen aprons. The bib aprons protected her dress from grease splatters when she fried side pork and even acted as a hotpad to take things from a hot oven. When girls waited tables at showers and weddings, we usually were given a fancy apron made of netting and ribbons...pretty fancy, but not very practical.
Like many moms did when we were growing up, my neighbors Jan, Suzy and I hang laundered sheets on a clothesline outdoors to dry. As they flap in the breeze, sheets absorb that fresh, outdoor aroma. Climbing into a bed of those fresh smelling sheets is sure to guarantee a good night’s sleep. We three gals are the neighborhood dinosaurs: we string the clothesline in the backyard or on the deck and hang sheets. Perhaps several of you still have embroidered dish towels, a gift from your wedding shower, that tell us specific duties for each day of the week. Monday is wash day; Tuesday is ironing day; Wednesday is sewing day; Thursday is market day; Friday is cleaning day; Saturday is baking day and Sunday is a day of rest. Where can we get those towels today? Does anyone use them to dry dishes?
Esther planned her week with specific chores for each day. Monday is Manic Monday for me: I combine the duties of several days into one so I can have several days free of duties. I wash, dry and put away several loads of laundry, scour the bathrooms and kitchen, dust mop the wood floors, and try to get my husband to push the vacuum up and down the stairs and vacuum the rugs. Once the house smells good and clean, on Tuesdays I can bake chocolate chip cookies, poppyseed bread and maybe a rhubarb pie or fruit tart so I’ll have something on hand to serve unexpected guests. Mom’s baked goods would go fast: she had coffee parties most days at 10AM and 3PM for the courthouse gang. Every other week her card club would meet. They used to call themselves a sewing group, but as time went on, they played more cards than they sewed or knit. Florence Vegoe had them try various crafts, but that wasn’t always successful (that project of strange bowls of sugared fruit sat on Mom’s dining table for years).
Gathering friends for coffee and cookies was Mom’s speciality. I enjoy playing bridge and having dessert with friends every other week. We always have one or two players who say, “No dessert for me; I’m watching my weight.” Those thin gals usually nibble at the nuts and candy placed on the bridge table and end up eating a few bites of dessert. After all, the desserts are irresistible!
Mom and Gladys Charbonneau used to call each other every day to check in. As they aged, they felt it necessary to check on their friends to know if they were feeling OK. Calling and emailing my sister Barb and friends has become more habitual for me. Just like Mom, weather is a prime topic as we commisserate about the frigid days, our aches and allergies, but we also like to hear what each other is reading. Most of my pals are avid book readers. We still read a daily newspaper, but like our kids, some are reading the news on their smartphones, IPads or computers. A few friends have cancelled the daily newspaper and don’t watch the news on TV; they say that listening or reading the daily news boosts their blood pressure.
Remember your Mom knitting afghans, glueing pinecones to make a wooden wreath, sewing sequins on net tablecloths and making fake fruit bowls with that sugared look? I don’t have those artistic habits, but I do try watercolors and acrylic painting. I used to keep a journal, like Mom did when Dad was a sheriff and we lived at the jail. Buddy, my Beagle pal, and I’ve picked up her daily habit of taking a daily walk around the block, down to the lake or downtown to grocery shop.
Polka music by Whoopie John was Mom’s favorite music to listen to on our Philco floor model radio. When she was cooking supper, she’d take a break and try to get Dad to polka around the dining room table. He’d protest, saying he had two left feet. No polkas for me, but when I’m cleaning, nothing beats 1960’s music by the Beatles or the Kingston Trio.
Geraniums were Mom’s favorite outdoor flowers, which she would save during the winter and let them bloom red and pink inside on wide windowsills at the jailhouse. In her dining room windows she grew purple and magenta gloxinas. Like Mom, I take my summer geraniums inside for the winter, and their blooms add cheer to long winter days.
Often we don’t realize why we act the way we do. Where did our habits come from? As we look back on our growing up years, we’ll acknowledge we’ve inherited many of our parents’ habits. Mom and Dad had a greater influence on us than we might think. 1108 words
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