Memories Make Mother’s Day Meaningful

Mom was always right, even when she was wrong. Dad told me to always remember that. Good advice.

So on Mother’s Day I’m reminded just how right mothers can be. Even my wife Catherine, who is not my mother, is always right. Just ask our kids, who learned very early the sage advice, “If Dad says no, go ask Mom.” This might be one reason Mother’s Day cards sell so much better than Father’s Day cards.

My mother Bea took good care of her kids. And it was more than just the usual reminder to wear clean underwear in case you ended up in the hospital. We certainly ate well. She could make the best supper a tired, hungry kid could imagine. From homemade soup to hot dish, she could cook with the best of them. She even made fish sticks a special treat. Broiled steaks, a rarity in the Johnson household, were supposed to be black and hard, right? Well, I don’t think we ever got sick from eating undercooked meat. And leftovers were scarce. On the rare occasion Mom was not home for supper, my father Juneau boiled wieners. Really. He knew they were done when they split open. 

In grade school we had time to come home for lunch. Mom would always have something that was closer to a large meal. Fridays were the best because she would have just gotten home from her weekly grocery shopping at the Farmer Store and the kitchen table would be full of good things to eat such as bananas and chocolate milk. If there was ever any pop or ice cream, you had a good weekend to look forward to and none of it was left by Monday.

Mom looked after us through all sorts of ailments, notably chicken pox, measles (both kinds), and mumps. This was before vaccinations were available for them. She took care of my sister Laurel through two very long bouts of rheumatic fever. I don’t remember Mom being sick. I don’t think moms are allowed to get sick.

I’m amazed at the things Mom did to raise five kids on Dad’s salary. She did a lot of canning. Mom’s best efforts were in freezer corn and strawberry jam. It was always about 99 degrees in the shade when she blanched the corn before scraping it off the cobs to freeze. And I never saw so many strawberries each June. We would have gotten sick of them except for the real cream from the Welch Creamery.

Dad often lamented how life could be better if Bea had a paying job. But all she had to do was remind teacher Dad that they wouldn’t be able to go to the cabin in the summer very often. That ended that discussion.

Often I saw Mom in the sweltering heat inside the back porch seated at the Ironrite to press our clothes (especially sheets). This was before permanent press. I remember that it took as much coaxing to get Dad to buy it as it did to get a freezer. But she loved it. She also dried as many clothes as she could on the long clothesline.

Mom’s greatest power was laying on the guilt. It worked every time with me. I think the record will show that it worked well on Dad and the rest of the family as well. As an example she would say, “Oh, Randy, Mrs. Peterson just called and wants you to come over to rake her yard. Won’t you just go over and do it for her? You know she is all alone and really needs the help. She asked for you specifically.” I found out later that what Bertha had asked for was “that big one,” which somehow meant me. I don’t know how being “big” makes you better at raking. I still hate raking after spending numerous Saturday mornings getting blisters hauling leaves for an amount less than one dollar.

Mom did not teach her kids how to drive which was a good thing. One time when Mom was driving me to a church function, I remember asking her why she drove right down the middle of the street. At least half the car was in the oncoming lane. She replied that she was not going to take a chance on hitting a parked car on her side of the street. I think she also believed that the 30 mph sign was just a suggestion. I don’t remember Dad ever riding with her as the driver. He was a driver ed instructor and it would have been too much to bear.

She made our beds every day. We had clean sheets each week. We were never short of clean clothes. The washer and dryer were in the kitchen and seemed to be running all day except when we stopped them so Dad could lead us in devotions before eating.

I remember most that Mom never complained. I took it for granted that everyone had a mom like her. But I found out that wasn’t true. It was a real shock to face the world once I was on my own. When I was in college and living off-campus, she would load my car up with so much food that my roommates never made me do dishes.

The most practical advice she instilled in me was that you needn’t worry too much about the future because it always works out somehow. Just do your best and keep things simple.

Thanks, Mom!