Mother’s Day 2010-Mental Images

Last year (2009) for Mother’s Day I wrote my blog on Mental Images of my late Mom. I have discovered there are more. Here is a sample.

Mother as Disciplinarian. Having 9 children with a permissive mother could have been sheer bedlam. At times our house may not have looked like the Sea of Tranquility but it surely was not because Mother did not exercise discipline. I am using the old fashioned definition of discipline as meaning the practice of a parent utilizing power to keep order, instill values, express convictions. On occasion Mother would spank. In retrospect I am a little surprised at how seldom she did this and did it with very little physical force. I do recall one particular incident. My sisters and I were supposed to have done the dishes and had been warned a couple times to get it done. We dawdled. Mother’s patience was exhausted. She lined us up in order of our age and administered the spankings. When she got to my younger sister Dorrie, Dorrie objected (in German) with, “Not me! Not me! Not me! Mama Not me!” That struck me as being very funny and I giggled. Mother did not find it funny and I got my second spanking of the evening. One other example of Mother strongly expressing her unhappiness with me was when I used the expression “son of a gun”. To Mother this was near blasphemy. She ordered me to the bathroom where (as directed) I washed my mouth out with home-made soap until it foamed. Then she set me on the steps to the upstairs and told me to think about how important it is that I watch my tongue.

Mother as Seamstress. Mother and sewing is a constant image. I see her at her trustworthy treadle-driven Singer sewing machine. She sewed dresses for my sisters, shirts for me, and aprons for all. Patches were almost a daily assignment, especially to the knees of my trousers during that season of the year when we “shot marbles” from our knees. Materials for the sewing came from, everywhere: the Henry Doering Mercantile in Walburg, from flour and sugar sacks, from parts of other older garments, from wherever. Just recalling my mom with her sewing machine, her needles, and her patterns stirs my heart with notions of being clad by love and care.

Mother as Host. Our home was always open to all and Mother was the quiet but ever-present hostess. The birthday parties were simple and predictable. No organized games, for of course kids knew how to entertain themselves. Mom saw to it that there were always homemade chicken salad sandwiches, (she slaughtered, plucked and cooked the chickens) lemonade, and an angel food birthday cake loaded with candles…and if we could afford the store-bought ice, also freshly made homemade ice cream. When I went to a boarding school 35 miles from home I knew that I could bring home one or a dozen classmates and there would be food enough for all. I even recall the Concordia High School softball team marching into our home early one morning and Mother scrambling up dozens of eggs for the whole crew. When the congregation at which my dad served as organist bought a new organ it was mom who provided a big lunch every single day for the workers who came (and took over a week) to install the organ. Her welcome mat was always out; there was always one more plate available to set and then fill with fried chicken, mashed potatoes with cream gravy and a couple fresh vegetables.

Mother NOT In Images. While I have all these wonderful mages of an active Mother I find it interesting that there are some things of which I have absolutely no image. Even though I was only number 3 of our 9 children I have no memory of ever seeing Mother pregnant. (Maybe I have no memory because as a child we were not allowed to ever say the word “pregnant” in mixed company.) I have no images of my Mother relaxing with a book to read. No images of my Mother just sitting and listening to the radio.

But there are enough memories to sustain the soul and to make Mother’s Day 2010 a day of thanksgiving for and joyful memories of my mother, Lena Doering Kieschnick.