Number 22 on the list of #52 Stories of ME! asks
the question “What is the best thing about your relationship with your
mother?”
The answer is so multitudinous I can hardly even begin to
make a list. There are so many “bests”. Things like having fun together, her being my
mentor as I was growing up and learning how to clean and make my surroundings
inviting. Her teaching me the basics of
how to play the organ, her expertise as a seamstress when I was stumped with
some sewing project—both when I was in 4-H and later as a young mother who had
to make many of my children’s clothing.
More than these situations, though, I valued her input for many other
endeavors wherein I needed an experienced opinion. I always respected her
knowledge and ability as a homemaker.
Also, having a listening ear when I came home from school
was a big part of our relationship. Mom
was interested in hearing about my school day, and she always kept the
confidences I shared with her. She
welcomed my friends into our home pampering, them as she did me. 
I loved when she went as a chaperone on
outings with the young women of our congregation. All the girls and leaders
loved her and looked up to her, too. And I was glad that she was always willing to
make treats or a special dessert whenever I had volunteered to take something
for a party. I was proud, not only of
her finished effort, but also of the classy way she presented it.
This list doesn’t even begin to exhaust the things I
loved about my mother and my relationship with her.
About 15 years ago I wrote a little blurb about this
relationship in the Nichols Family Newsletter that I created each month
for my children. It was the May 2005
edition, and I attempted to envision what I would choose to do if I could spend
an entire day together with my mom. That
was the subject of an early morning radio talk show I had listened to on my way
to work. I began the article for the Newsletter
with a little back-story about some of the special times I shared with my
mother. Here is what I wrote…
“I was the youngest of nine, born when my parents were 43
years old. I had a lot of opportunities
to spend entire days alone together with my mother. After I got over the initial “homesickness”
of missing my last sibling when she left to go to high school in Salt Lake City
the year I was ten, I began to really enjoy the times my mother and I were home
alone together. Since my dad was often
gone for 24 hours or more at a time for his work on the railroad, those were
the times we “goofed off”. My dad wasn’t
too keen on horseplay, so we saved the fun time for when he was at work. I don’t remember all that we did, but I do
remember that we often played tricks on each other and enjoyed each other’s
company. I thought of my mother as my
friend.
As I got older and in high school, I still enjoyed my
mother’s company, but I spent a lot of time with my friends leaving my mother
home alone to sew or watch TV while both my dad and I were gone. One night I was invited to a dance—and it was
her birthday. My dad was gone on his
railroad assignment, and my mother asked me if I would please stay home with
her and bake her a birthday cake. I was
a “snot”, telling her if she wanted a birthday cake, she should bake it herself
as she was a far better cook than I was.
And I went to the dance. I have
felt bad about that many times in years since.
However, there were some really great times I DID have
with her during those teenaged years, too.
When I was getting ready to go to Brigham Young
University for my Freshman year, I wanted some fabulous clothes to take with
me. My hometown of Rawlins, Wyoming, didn’t have any great selection of “cool
clothes” for sure. So, we planned a trip
to Casper, Wyoming, (about 150 miles to the north of Rawlins) to go shopping. It
necessitated an overnight stay which my dad generously said he would pay for,
as well as the gas for my car.
This was in the late summer of 1964 before department
store chains like Mervyn’s, Kohl’s, Foley’s, Dillard’s and the specialty stores
now like Gap and Banana Republic and all the rest which homogenize the country
with exactly the same thing in every store in every city. Casper was big enough to have some nice dress
shops, and different enough selections from the clothes in Utah and California
to make me stand out just a little from the rest of the girls that year at BYU.
There was a little nest egg of money I had saved from my
summer job cleaning rooms at the Bucking Horse Lodge motel, and my mother
encouraged me on that shopping trip to buy fun things for my dorm room and cute
clothes, too. I was surprised at her
contemporary tastes! The most memorable
purchase was a beige and brown wool plaid “paper doll” coat—this was the 60’s
and much in style—with a fur collar. I
don’t remember any of the other clothes, but I remember I felt so stylish when
I arrived at BYU. And, I felt especially
stylish when I wore that coat. Lots of
compliments, too!
I had such great memories of that trip, in fact, I
decided I would like to repeat it a couple of years later. So, once again my mother and I made an
overnight trip to Casper to shop for college clothes for me. One restaurant we ate at had paper placemats
printed with the different brands for local ranches. There were instructions how to read those
brands and also how to make up your own brand.
We laughed over the “brands” we concocted like the “Lazy
Bar H”, the “Rocking G”, and the “M Side Bar M”. (Interpretation: Lazy Bar H—the H was lying horizontal instead
of vertical, obviously because I could sometimes be really lazy! Rocking G was a capital G with a rocker
underneath the letter. Also in reference
to me. M Bar M was my mom—her first
and middle names: Maude dash Marie.)
That was the shopping trip I purchased the Fall-1966
color-of-the-season- Burgundy wardrobe.
Coat, Hat, linen dress with lace bodice overlay and tiny buttons,
sweater dress, and other burgundy-colored items. Oh, I was stylin’ that year back at BYU!
But, if I had an entire day alone with my mother now, the first thing I would do would be to bake her a cake—lemon with a hard chocolate-shell frosting that she liked so much. Then I would ask her to tell me more about her girlhood, and being a young mother, and how she coped when her kids all grew up and went their separate ways. And I would definitely ask her about my brother Harold and how she managed the grief of his accidental death. I would want her to open her cedar chest and share with me all the things she thought were special enough to tuck away in there.
I would have her sing “Poor Babes
in the Wood” to me once again. That one
was sad and always made me cry. She
didn’t have a good singing voice. It was
thin and reedy, but when she sang that song and others I heard over and over as
I was growing up, I thought she was a wonderful singer.
Perhaps I would treat her to lunch—she didn’t get to eat out very often. And I would maybe like to go to the temple
with her one more time. I just know I
would like to make it a positive, meaningful, and memorable day together.”
Looking back now, I know there were not enough of those
special days spent with her—just my mom and I. And, if I had it to do over, I would be smart enough to remember this little quote and invite my mother to hang with me one more time.
“Keeping
it all in perspective means that sometimes we put everything down, look into
the eyes of the ones we love, and say, ‘Let’s spend some time together
today—what would you like to do?’”
