My Mom was a hoot! Everyone adored her as she was so much fun. A fabulous cook, gardener, mother, grandmother, great grandmother. Always up for anything and everything.
She grew up the youngest of six kids in a very poor immigrant family. Being the youngest, she never had a new outfit as she was given the hand-me-downs, even if the clothes were from her older brothers. Each child had one pair of shoes which they were allowed to wear ONLY at school and church. They walked barefoot to the one room schoolhouse or to the nearby church where they would put on their shoes for classes and services and remove them to make the journey home. Being caught by her father wearing shoes at any other time was a punishable offense. As the youngest, her shoes were worn thin by years of scuffing by her older siblings.
Her single toy was a sock doll made by her mother. Their house had no indoor plumbing, heating, or kitchen. My Nonie (my grandmother) could whip up the most delicious meals from whatever was scavenged, be it roadkill, frogs, or wild greens and cook everything over an open fire. The family grew as many vegetables, fruits, and herbs that they could manage and all the children worked from the time they could toddle.
My favorite photo of the eight of them shows them barefoot, dirty, in rags, with my Mom in the arms of my Nonie. They worked hard, yet they were happy.
Despite the family poverty, they had a wonderful childhood filled with love and simple joys. My Mom, aunts, and uncles were storytellers, and the stories of their youthful escapades were captivating and hysterically funny. They found a single rusty roller-skate in a nearby gully which they all attempted to ride on the dirt roads without much success. A pig on a neighbor’s farm provided piggyback rides and nearby creeks were their swimming holes, hunting grounds, picnic areas, and hiding places.
When my Mom married my Dad at the age of nineteen, she packed all her earthly belongings into one very tiny suitcase measuring 12 inches by 17 inches. I now keep my fanny packs in that suitcase!
They moved to the ranch where I was born and raised and lived their lives as ranchers and farmers. I learned everything I know about nature, gardening, animal husbandry, and farming from them.
Throughout the years, Mom told stories of her youth to any gathering of family and friends, much to our delight. We’d laugh, cry, and call ourselves “boring” compared to her capers. Then at midnight, she’d announce it was pumpkin time and off to bed she went.
We’d continue dissecting her tales, laughing, giggling, and making a raucous for forty minutes or so when Mom would appear once again barefoot and wearing her bathrobe, hollering “I’m BACK…fooled you all!” And she’d launch into telling additional funny stories well into the morning.
Mom is gone now, but fortunately we recorded many of these entertaining sessions where we would all revel in our comical family history. We “boring” participants understood that it didn’t take money or fancy clothes to have a wonderful life. It only took creativity, community, family, and the ability to appreciate every aspect of life, to find joy and goodness in the smallest encounters.
As I sit at my computer writing barefoot and wearing my bathrobe, I am channeling the positive energy of my upbeat, vivacious Mom as I shout to all Substack subscribers, “I’m BACK!”
Let’s tell stories!
Cynthia Brian
www.CynthiaBrian.com
So beautiful 😍 thank you for this ❤️