Remembering Mom

As I read the articles by Pauli Jayne [Mizpah—Part II], Florence Vining Thomen [Take Time Out] and Shaw Izikson in the holiday issue of The Voice [December 21], my thoughts turned to my own little mother. While she led a rather ordinary life, I think she was a very interesting and colorful person. As the oldest child of young immigrant parents, she had a very curious and independent nature, and what she lacked in formal education she made up in experience. I think her greatest achievements were her four daughters and the grandchildren and great-grandchildren that followed.

Speaking little English, she was very unhappy in public school and soon transferred to Sacred Heart School in her birthplace of Easthampton, MA. Her Catholic faith was simple and strong, learned at her parents' knee and enriched by the traditions of her Polish heritage. She in turn passed on those traditions to her children. While many of those have faded from practice, they are still in our hearts. Unfortunately, the language she so loved never carried on to the next generation, although we try to pronounce the holiday greetings, and I stumble over a few remembered words as I hum along with the choir at St. Mary’s Church, as they sing the old hymns so beautifully each Sunday.

Mom made the long trek to California in 1945, when Dad left Pratt & Whitney to work in the shipyards during WWII. Pregnant with her youngest daughter, she bounced around the back seat with a 1-1/2 and a 3-1/2 year old. We made it to New York City before my "weak stomach" caught up with me, and I got to ride the rest of the way up front with Dad. The war soon ended, along with the job, and we made the long drive "home," settling in Hartford.

I remember the Christmas Eves when Dad worked his second job in one restaurant or another in the Hartford area, after a full day at the factory. Christmas Eve was a day of "fast and abstinence" (a tradition still observed by some, long after it was no longer a requirement of the church), and the only music was our Mom singing her beloved Polish carols.

Our supper would be the same her parents would have served: pickled herring, boiled potatoes, and a vegetable or simple salad. Of course, our Dad, wanting to be more "American" and no longer working the second job (Mom now did the factory job, usually "second shift") brought home other ideas. We now had "spaghetti with clam sauce" for our Christmas Eve suppers, which pleased my sisters and me far more than that "old country" food! Little did I know that I would one day serve "Wigilia" suppers to my own family, trying my hand at making pierogi and babka, and finding recipes to prepare the many courses of "traditional" dishes and delicacies not affordable in my childhood, and much less Mom's. The blessed "Oplatek" was shared around the table, as well as sent to absent family members and friends.

In their Christmas stockings, Mom and her siblings found precious gifts: the apples, oranges, pears and bananas that fill our stores in such great abundance today, along with nuts wrapped in waxed paper to put down in the toe. Mom carried on that tradition with us, and that fruit always tasted extra special! Our children also enjoyed the fruit that along with a candy cane and new toothbrush filled their stockings, which hung by a real fireplace.

Mom didn't have much in the way of material things, but she, like most children of her day, filled her time with outdoor activities and daring escapades that would shock many parents today. There was certainly no "baby-proofed" house or yard, and no one gave any thought to second floor railings, railroad tracks, swiftly flowing rivers, or any other dangers of the day. Childhood illnesses no longer a threat with today's vaccinations and medications also helped to strengthen her in body and character. Oh, the stories she told!

After her father found factory work at Hendey's, instead of in the farm fields in Easthampton, she attended South School. Miss Sparrow and Miss Heffernan guided her through the rest of her schooling until she was old enough to quit for a job at the "Needle Shop," running each day all the way from the South End, since she was usually late. They encouraged her to go to the library, and from that time on, she was an avid reader. Mom especially loved American history and was extremely patriotic. She loved to sing and dance for her own pleasure, enjoyed gardening, and was quite good at drawing animals and ballerinas.

She had too much to keep her busy and content to ever be bored or lonely, enjoying her own company, and finding pleasure in the simplest of activities. She was not a complainer, except when it came to taking medication, and usually blamed any problems on the few pills she had to take each day. We talked daily on the telephone—my regular calls morning and evening, as well as many more in between. "Guess what bird I saw in the backyard!"—"Quick, look out the window and see the beautiful sunset!"—"Did you see the moon last night?" she'd call to ask. Anything and everything to do with nature was of great interest and a source of pleasure to her. Two years after her death, people still remember her cheery smile and bright, positive outlook on everything.

My sisters and I feel so blessed to have had so many special times with our Mom right up to her last breath. How sad indeed that anyone should have to leave this world in the manner described in Shaw Izikson's article [And Goodwill Towards Men], but I am sure it happens more times than we realize. Best wishes for all for a very Happy and Healthy New Year—Wesolego Nowego Roku!

By the way, I agree with Ursula Kilner [Extra Service with a Smile], "Mr. and Mrs. FBN" (a.k.a. Matthew and Janet Peters) are good people!