Mama

My mother quietly passed away a few months ago.  It is always amazing to me when I make that statement, for Mom never did much "quietly".  She had a loud voice and as she aged, she used it often and with quite a cranky manner.  But the day after her 93rd birthday, she slipped quietly away.  I like to think of her now reunited with Dad, dancing--oh how they loved to dance!  They took lessons and would on impromptu swing those steps in the living room.  And her head would be back, smiling big as they whorled around.  And she is now laughing at all his corny jokes.  Back together again.  I had the honor of speaking at her funeral.
 

Things My Mama Taught Me

My sister and I thank you for coming out here to celebrate our mother’s life.  Many Smith family members are buried in Ontario, from my great grandparents to most my aunts and my uncle.  And my fathers mother and step-father are in LaVerne.  So why are we way the hell out here in horse country?  If you knew my dad, you’ll understand.  The man loved a good deal.  During the great gas wars of the sixties and early 70s, when gas was 23.9/gallon, he’d drive his motor home around town to find the best price, thus saving a penny a gallon. I’d say, "What a waste of time!"  But he would explain the motor home held a lot more gas than a car (which he would also drive around searching).  Figure out the math for him…he was ecstatic to save that, maybe, 30 cents!

So when a salesman came around sometime in the late 50s, early 60s, selling cemetery plots, dad knew a good deal when he saw one.  And here we are!

Some of you knew my Mom as Evelyn, but most of you knew her as Bette.  How did she come by this nickname?  When just a little girl, she was sick--just a cold or the flu, nothing serious.  Her mother asked her, “Are you all better now?” And she replied, “I all bette.”  She was called Bette thereafter.

Mom was a loving and giving woman.  She could also be a bit cranky and bossy.  As an older teen, I acutely felt the crankiness and bossiness in my life.  So when my first husband would tell me”you are just like your mother!” I knew to be ashamed.  But at some point in those seven married years, I grew up and remembered that she was a generous caring friend to anyone who needed her and I started turning his words around and saying, “Thank you!” And meant it (and the fact it pissed him off--bonus!).

My mother taught me many wonderful things that helped shape me into who I am.  She taught me how to laugh and seek joy, how to give and help others, and how to love.

Mom was born on her parents farm in Iowa and moved to Southern California at the age of five.  She didn’t remember very much about life on the farm, a vivid picture of a Victorian window perhaps.  But her best memory was this hill outside the house and rolling down that hill, laughing and playing.  She never lost that gleeful joy of such adventure. 

Washington D.C. Smithsonian

After dad died she and I spend many years traveling around. Up and down the pacific coast.  Holland.  The Grant Tetons. Yellowstone.  Washington DC.  She was always excited to experience the next glacier or museum.  Pure joy.

At her husband’s funeral, she decided to wear red.  She said she wanted her grandsons to see that sadness and grief didn’t have to mean black and gloom.  She loved her six grandchildren and their partners, her greatgrandies with all her heart and wanted to be that joyful role model.

She also joyfully loved to give to others.  When she gave, she gave wholeheartedly.  She was a wonderful yarn artist.  She spent evening TV watching with hours of knitting and crocheting.  Sweaters.  Granny-square vests.  Remember those gawd-awful crocheted vests?  Yep.  And afghans.  She made hundreds of blankets and gave them away to friends and charities.  Last evening at her viewing, everyone mentioned they had a blanket from her.  She loved the sweetness of a baby blanket.  She gave blankets to The House of Ruth so those families, so used to violence, had warmth and comfort. She gave blankets to Crossroads in Claremont so the women transitioning from prison to renewed life knew they were loved.  

But her donations and skills didn’t stop at blankets.  She was an excellent seamstress and loved to sit and watch football or baseball while she sewed. In my sister's senior year in high school, Pat was invited to the prom. Mom bought the satiny fabric of choice and whipped out this gorgeous gown for Pat. And then a few days later, had to quickly make one for me. She patiently taught me how to sew. My patience wasn’t so evident.  If I couldn’t finish the dress in a day, it never got finished.  I now make quilts and donate most of them to children in the hospital, the homeless, and to other charities throughout the Portland area, as well as give to my friends and family.

For over thirty years she volunteered her time and skills to Santa Claus, Inc in Ontario.  She made T-shirts and children’s clothing, helped sign-up for parents to receive toys and clothes, and then helped distribute it all.  As a fanatic about her books to be accurate to a penny (as opposed to my “close enough,”), she became treasurer for the organization.  She gathered fabric from stores that would donate, or find good prices.  She was a whirlwind of giving.

And we can’t forget her beautiful artistry using threads.  The two counted cross-stitch hangings we have on display are only a sample of the many pieces she has made and given away.  If I asked a show of hands right here of who has ever received a piece of her art—pieces of clothing, blankets, counted-cross, you would see how many she has given to the world.

And in her gift of joy, and her example of giving of herself, she taught me how to love.

Mom was a hugger.  Not just an everyday ho-hum hugger, but you knew she loved you hugger.  We who use social media, often write hugs when we want to show our care, but mom wasn’t of social media.  Even in her letters—oh gawd she love receiving letters!  Even in her letters she would draw her own form of emoticon of hugging.  You might not always be able to read what she wrote with her left handed scribble, but you always knew it was full of love.

She always said out loud to strangers passing how much she loved what they were wearing.  Beautiful fabric.  Cute top. Your shoes are so nice.  You have a beautiful smile.  Used to embarrass the heck out of me!  Now I embarrass my own kids doing the same thing.  She was warm and welcoming and immediately invited you into her life.

My mom taught me the important things of life.  She taught me the importance of life, not to be squandered but to lived fully.  The joy of a simple flower in the garden, the adventure waiting to happen.  The joy of giving of oneself to others, making sure they were comfortable.  She taught me how to love.  And I hopefully taught some of these things to my own sons as well as to my grandson.  Oh hell, she could certainly be cranky and full blown bossy.  On a really bad day in the nursing center, she would say, “I’m 90 years old!  I can be crabby if I want to!” And didn’t hold back.  But she was the most giving and loving woman and I am proud when someone says to me, “You are just like your mother.”

peace~~~