Honoring My Mother - Memories of Her #mothersday #mothers #memories #plparker

My mother's favorite color was pink. When I was little, every new dress I got was pink! As I got older, I finally broke it to her that pink wasn't my favorite color. (My favorite color is cherry red.) 

My mother was a stay-at-home housewife, which back then was pretty much the norm.  She was a pretty woman. Beautiful smile and large, hazel eyes.  She was an amazing cook, and growing up, she was my best friend. She could be tough, don't get me wrong, and she had her little eccentricities, but she was a good mom.  Our house was always clean and well-ordered. She loved her family above all else and her family is what she was proud of.  I know that if push came to shove, my other would be in there shoving for me, no matter what the cost.

So many memories.  She had a good sense of humor, maybe not the impish, scamp humor of my father, but a good one all the same. She could do her own practical jokes - her favorite was catching a spider (which she was not scared of) and chasing Dad around the house. He hated that game! 

I and my three siblings were blessed to be a part of her family. We learned so many things from her.  I remember evenings when we were cleaning up dinner, washing dishes, drying them, etc., and my sisters, my mother, and I would sing.  She had a lovely voice and we made quite a good singing group. She was a great dancer and Dad and she cut quite a rug when they were out. 

Momma wasn't perfect, but she was a great mother. I miss her every day and often times, I pull out a momento just to feel close to her.

I hope you grew up with a special mom, and if not, make those memories with your children.  I was blessed with three wonderful sons and there is not a day that I don't feel overwhelming love for each one.  They are my true blessings.

Love to you all, and for all you Mothers, soon to be Mothers, Mothers-in-Law, Happy Mother's Day!

Patsy

Little Kindnesses go a Long Way

I shared this story on Facebook but I wanted to share with all of you:

I want to tell you a story about a guy who went into Winco, found toilet paper and immediately was surrounded by people who asked where he got it. He directed them to the spot and for the rest of his shopping visit, people were coming up to him and thanking him for his help. He finished picking up what was needed and then got in line. A lady was in a line that closed just ahead of her, so he told her to go ahead of him. She was one of the toilet paper seekers. She was so appreciative and said "you're so nice, why are you being so nice." Well, let me tell you. My oldest son Jared is a really a nice person and I'm so proud of him for even these small acts of kindness! Even small acts of kindness go a long way.


Right now it is even more important to be kind, courteous, and respectful.  Be brave in the face of this new adversity. 

As my old daddy used to say "It's a long worm that has no turning."  His way of saying, "This too will pass."

Some photos that bring me joy!

In Honor of My Mother

We lost my mother 2 years ago and there isn't a day that I don't think of and miss her so much! She wasn't a perfect person, but as a mom, I don't think any person could surpass her! If you needed a shoulder, it was there. If you needed words of wisdom, she had a good share. And if you came seeking love, it was handed out endlessly.  

This picture was taken 65 years ago, at the either the Blackfoot cemetery or the cemetery in Firth, Idaho, on Memorial Day. My sister, Elena, is the little blond next to Mom, the little girl with the chubby stomach is my sister, Karlyn, and I am the baby in Mom's arms.  Mom's family would all get together to decorate family graves and then we'd go to some nearby park and have a big picnic. My oldest sister, Kayleen's grave was Mom's first visit and she always cried when we were there. (Kayleen died as a result of whooping cough when she was 6 months old).

So many wonderful memories of my life growing up and my mother. Mom was a homemaker and I was so proud of how pretty she was, how she kept herself nice and our house was always clean and inviting. She was a great cook and I learned most of my cooking skills from her.  I loved to help her, especially canning and baking.  Mom made the best bread and scones.

Her favorite spot in the whole world was Stanley, Idaho, at the Little Casino campground. Mom and Dad went there every year for 40 years and someday her ashes will rest there as well.  

I could go on and on about my Mom, but mostly just want to honor her on Mother's Day and say "Miss and love you so much, Mama."

Patsy
P.L. Parker

The Lessons We Learn

I've learned a lot of things over my 62 years but one lesson still guides me even after 50 years.

We'd move to Blackfoot, Idaho, when I was 10.  Across the street from our house was a family which by today's definition would function as gang-type.  A girl my age from down the street joined in on their antics and for some reason decided the new girl (me) would be the object of her harassment.  She would spit on me when I walked by, shove my bike over if I happened to ride by her, call me filthy names, etc.  Whatever she could do to make my life miserable, she did.  Now back then I was a fighter.  I didn't pick fights but then I never backed down.  But my father kept telling me to ignore her - she would eventually give up and forget about me.  No, she did not!  Finally, one night at dinner - we were eating stew and homemade bread as I remember - she was outside with the gang from across the street shouting filthy - and for those times - filthy things at our house.  
My dad put down his spoon, looked at me and said:  "Okay, Pat, finish your dinner and then go out there and beat the hell out of her."
Amazed, I said, "Really?"
He nodded.
My mother was having fits.  I was going to get hurt, what was my dad thinking, and finally okay Pat, do your best.
My two older sisters escorted me out the door to make sure the older members of the gang kept their distance.
I walked through the crowd and faced her.  She towered over me, shouting obscenities, shoving me, etc.  Finally, I got tired of her tirade and punched her square in the jaw.  Her mouth fell open, she screeched, and then she attacked.
It was an all out fight. I do remember thinking she fought unfairly as she grabbed handfuls of my dark hair and yanked - something my father would never allow.  But, all's fair in love and war and this was war.  She was sitting on me punching me as I grabbed both hands full of her thin blonde hair and yanked back.  Both sides of her head were immediately bald.  So surprised was I, I took time to look at my hands full of her hair.
The "gang" was screaming at me to get up and kill her! Why would they want me to kill their champion.
My sisters held them off.  
I bucked and rolled and she tumbled.  My turn on top, I was whaling the daylights out of her when I was lifted from her prone, screaming form by the neighbor lady, Mrs. Phelps, who was scolding us for being so shameful. 
My father came into the picture.  He defended my actions, and led me home.
Inside the house, he sat me in a chair and said, "Now, Pat, I want you to do something you won't like but I expect it of you."
"What?" I said.
A gentle look came over his face. "You're going to go down to her house and apologize."
"Are you crazy," I yelled. "She started it. She wouldn't leave me alone...."
"I know, sweetie," he said. "But you're a bigger person than she is, you have a bigger heart. Now go do what I told you."
"Will you come with me?"
"No," he said. "Some things you just have to do by yourself."
Rebellion seethed in my soul, but this was my daddy who I adored so I gathered my failing courage and started the long walk to her house, one step at a time.
When I neared her house, I could hear her screaming and crying at the top of her voice, yelling "my back is hurt, my back is hurt."
Did I kill her? Could I live with the idea that I'd hurt her for eternity. I swallowed a gulp and knocked at the door.
Her mother answered, a rather kind-faced person for the tyrant I knew her daughter to be.
I explained what I was there to do.  She looked surprised but led me to her still screaming daughter's room.
As I entered the room, the girl caught sight of me and the screaming immediately stopped.
"I came to apologize," I said. "I never meant to hurt you."
She took a deep breath and nodded then I left.
She was in my fifth grade class there in Blackfoot and for the first few months, her mother contrived to make the bald sides look normal.  I found the girl to be nice when away from her rowdy friends and though we were never close friends after that, we were at least pleasant to each other.
I learned early from my father, to fight for what I believe in but don't find joy in defeating others.  He is and was a wise person.  Love you Dad!.

What's In Your Thanksgiving Feast?

Ahhhh, Thanksgiving!  A time to give thanks, appreciate the good things in life - and stuff yourself until you pop!

As a mature (somewhat) adult, I've been through the food frenzy so many times, it's hard to remember them all.  Small memories surface - like the time Grandma Parker put oysters in the dressing!  Ugh! Or the time the filling for my pecan pie slipped through the bottom crust and glued to the pie pan. (That was interesting!) But mostly I remember the love and family connection that comes with Thanksgiving.

We had the traditional Thanksgiving feast, but with our own little traditions, which I have continued.  Our feast contains the following:

Turkey (of course)
Dressing (no oysters for me)
Mashed Potatoes
Turkey Gravy
Candied Yams
Fruit Salad
And a dish that has survived the times - Sweet and Sour Candied Red Cabbage.
Added to the above:  Pumpkin, Apple, Berry, etc., Pie.

I have to tell you about the Sweet and Sour Candied Red Cabbage.  The recipe comes from my Danish Grandma Parker and it is a taste that is acquired -  more than immediate love.  

Purchase a small red cabbage, slice it up very very thin, put in a pan with water and a good amount of vinegar to retain the color and cook for hours until it is almost limp (best I can describe).  Once it reaches that stage, add enough sugar to taste.  Hard to put down on paper because it is a taste/touch sort of thing.  Anyway, we love it and there is always a bowl on our Thanksgiving table.  You can purchase a reasonable facsimile from the store but nothing tastes like homemade.

Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving to You!  And may your holidays be filled with love and sharing.

Patsy