Momma

As I look back down the road that brought me here to where I have lived for the last 40 years, there is one person I see that quietly shaped me into the woman I am today.  My momma.  She was the glue that held our family together.  She was a very proud woman.  I only remember her holding me a few times, but those were times when I needed held or I would have surely shattered.  Once was when the baby calf died and the other was when I lost my brother, her only son.  I am sure that hug was what both of us needed at the time.

My first memories of my life centered around the Stroh place.  Those were the good days.  Those were the times when dad worked and took care of us.  Momma belonged to "club" and attended once a month.  She dressed in her "good dress" and wore a hat.  Josephine and Jake were old enough to stay home but I went with her.  I had to set on the floor beside her chair and be quiet because children were to be seen and not heard and I seemed to be the only kid there.  The women discussed recipes and sewing and stuff like that which any 4 year old kid would not understand.  Never anything personal.  God forbid!

I do not know what my dad did for a living, but I am pretty sure it was shady because I have snippets of memory of a big 3 story house across the river and my dad went inside and left me in the wagon.  I was terrified of that big horse and some times it looked at me and snorted, showing his big yellow teeth, which added to my fear.  Then some time after that we loaded all our "stuff" on a hay rack and moved down the road to the other side of town to the Ailmore place.  It was at that time that Dad quit whatever he was doing and mother started cleaning houses for the "ladies" in town.  By this time I was in first grade.  Then, whoosh!  we moved again.  

This time we were buying the house on the other side of town.  Dad was share cropping with a man named John Britain.  Momma took business classes at Salt City Business College and then started working as a secretary.  Dad started running the Domino/Pool Hall up on main street in Nickerson.  In my Junior year we moved to Hutchinson and it was downhill from there.

The point of this is that through my life, my mother has been the one constant in my life.  She was always there.  She was never the "touchy feally" mother in the story books, but she was always the backbone of the family.  She made sure the food was on the table.  She made sure we had clothes on our backs.  She was the one that inisisted we go to Sunday School and then sit quietly in church.  My first communion was at her knee.  My first poem was published in some kids magazine and she bought it and kept it for years.  

 When I married my first husband and went to her with my first black eye, she explained that "this is a man's right and you need to try harder."  That was the only time she tried to guide me through my "wifely duties."  My method of dealing with my children when a husband hit them was much different from my mother.  "Divorce the a##hole!"

But I digress. This is about my mother and the examples she set for me.  From her I learned a deep and abiding love for my saviour.  Jesus Christ is never far from my thoughts and I do not make a decision without first running it by him and then thinking "What would momma think about this?"  Now granted, I do not always do what I know either one of them would recommend and I usually regret my decision.  Good Lord made the mistake of giving us "free will".  That means he lets us make our own decisions.  In those instances, I usually end up regretting my actions which brings into play the next lesson, "live and learn."

So here I set in the sunset of my life, thinking about momma.  I wonder what my life would have been had I actually listened to her?  She was a wise woman.  Compassion for other people and for the citizens of the world was paramount in her life.  I knew my mother loved me as surely as I know the sun will come up tomorrow.  My mother was wise and kind and when I would tell her that she say that I was prejudiced.  When I told her she was the best mother in the world she said other kids thought that about their mothers.  

But I do know this, I did have the best mother in the world.  She may not have been the best mother for other kids, but she was best for me.  God put me right where he wanted me to be to learn the lessons I needed. Some day I will get it right and be right up there in heaven with my sweet Jesus and my momma!  I may see a lot of people I know, or I may not see any.  It will all be revealed when the time is right.  

But until that day, I shall watch and wait, and I shall remember my sweet momma.  While I mourn my brother and my sisters that have gone before me and yearn for my grandmas and the grandpas I never knew, I am filled with anticipation!  Some one asked me once if I believed in the hereafter and Jesus.  I told them this, "If I did not believe I could not continue to put one foot in front of the other here on this earth. "  

My goal is my crown and my hope is in my salvation and all of that is centered around my saviour and my mother.

Any more questions?

.  

All I see is a pink ball...

It is Christmas all over the world, and contrary to popular belief it is Christmas at my house.  I do not have a tree and all the trappings.  There is no Christmas music wafting from the stereo.  And last night I missed the service at church for the first time in many, many years.  But it is still Christmas morning here.

Yesterday I went to a friends house for lunch.  I dined with Ross Barnhart and his brothers and most of their wives.  His cousin was also there.  It was lovely and I thoroughly enjoyed myself.  Today I am staying home.  I have some things I want to do today, but right now I am thinking back to Strong Street.

I know we lived there for several years, but I am not sure how long.  My favorite Christmas is the year I received a pink ball for Christmas from Santa Clause.  Santa always left our gifts on our chairs at the table.  That year I received a coloring book, a box of 8 Crayola's, 2 chocolate candies an orange and a pink ball.  It was about the size of the orange and it was the most wonderful ball in the world!  When I dropped the ball it bounced very high.  I threw it against the house and it bounced back.  It was so wonderful, but of course , that did not last.  It was just a matter of time before the wonderful pink ball picked up a sticker and no longer bounced.  The last time I recall seeing it was deflated and living in a mud hole.  Soon the coloring book was all colored, the Crayon's broken and missing from the box.

The last Christmas I recall was the last one I want to remember.  Jake told me Santa was not real and he knew that for a fact because Momma was going to let him play Santa and give out the presents that year.  I did not believe him, so I asked him what I was going to get and he told me.

"It is a tin doll house with a mother, father, brother, sister and a dog. A black dog." And that was what I got.  Jake had assembled it by pushing the metal tabs through the slots and folding them down to hold them in place.  And sure enough, there was a pink mother and father, a boy and a girl, and a little dog.  It had a couch and chair, a table and 4 chairs, and a tub and stool and sink in the bathroom.  The kitchen had a sink, refrigerator and a stove.  Jake told me he would get me more stuff someday.  But it never happened.

Some how the wonderfulness of the doll house was over shadowed by the sadness the Santa was not real.  All those years, it had been my momma cleaning other peoples houses and saving money a little at a time to surprise me.  It made me sad to think of her doing without so I could have something I really wanted.  I came to hate that gift more every day.  Momma never knew, but I did.

I hated the poverty that was our life.  I hated that my father did not ever touch me or carry me like he did Mary, Donna and Dorothy.  I told myself that he probably did, when I was little, but I do not remember that.  He spent a lot of time drinking when I was growing up and I attribute it to that.  Sure doesn't help these many years later.

So today, I am staying home, alone.  I am alone because I want to be, not because I have no one.  I have 6 children who have mates and children and some of those children have children which means I am a great grandmother.  I have nieces and nephews.  I have very good friends.  I just want to be alone, so I will.

I wish you all a very Merry Christmas, and pray that you all enjoy life to the fullest.  I know I am going to do just that!

Peace!

Getting rid of the frail old body and moving on up!

Not to be alarmed, kiddies, it is not me!  But yesterday I got a phone call.  A friend is dying and would I come?  Of course!  I left the sewing job I was working on down stairs, put on my bra, and drove across town.  I joined her husband, the minister and a girl from Sangre de Cristo Hospice at her bedside.  She had grown even frailer than the last time I had seen her a week before.  She is at home in a hospital bed in the front room surrounded by the remnants of her life.  Throughout the afternoon a few friends stopped by, more of hospice stopped in, and flowers were delivered.  She did not know it, but we all did.

I looked around the room at pieces of art that represented her life.  There were framed tatted doilies that she had made.  Art work by her daughter.  Pictures of her and Doug when they were young.  Pictures of the kids, the grandkids, the dog, and where had the cat gotten off to anyway?

And everywhere reminders of the activism in thier lives.  I do not know when I met these people nor where.  It seems I had always known them.  The Peace Flotilla, Meals on Wheels, Ghandi Peace Garden, Rally against Amendment #2, on and on.  Always Doug passing out flyers or leading the march and always Dorothy on his arm.  We belong to the same church, and apparently belong to the same causes!

I believe that on this level words are not needed.  I believe the person preparing for the journey knows exactly what is going on and can intercept our thoughts.  So I gave her good ones!  Green valleys, cool sunshine, soft clouds, and the gentlest rain.  I gave her soft music, beautiful flowers, and sweet smells.  I gave her soft kittens and butterflies; and I hope a glimpse of the Holy City where she will live after she flits around the world and fills her head with the knowledge of the ages.  And finished with the face of Jesus, so kind, caring and welcoming with his out stretched arms.  "Come home, Dorothy.  I am waiting."

I had to come home for a while in the evening to do chores.  When I went back Dorothy had quieted.  Her daughters arrived about 10:00.  I think she was waiting for them.  I took my leave so they could say thier goodbyes without a stranger there.  I have not heard this morning and it is kind of early to call, but if I were a betting person, I would bet she is free from her body that held her prisoner and is soaring above us, smiling down and touching us with a peace that is not attainable on this level.

God speed, Dorothy!  See you soon!

 

Maybe it is time to rethink the Santa thing!

I have once more been called a Grinch.  Now why do people do that?  I am not a Grinch.  I think Christmas is wonderful.  Or at least the part about the baby Jesus.  And the wise men.  And the shepherds.  I like the Christmas tree and the carols and all that stuff.  What I have a problem with is the commercialism.  Black Friday, Super Saturday, Something Monday.  How much are sales up?  How much are sales down?
I remember the last Christmas that I thought the presents were from Santa.  For years I had written the letter to Santa telling him how bad I wanted a dolly.  Dolly's were different than as opposed to now.  They had plastic legs and arms and a hard plastic head.  And if you got a really good one it would cry when you tilted it back and then it would close it's eyes.  I finally got the dolly. And  I loved that dolly.  And I could not figure out how she knew to close her eyes.  Unfortunately for dear dolly, neither could my brother, Jake.  But he had a solution for that.  Little tap on the back of the head with the hammer and all Dolly's secrets were revealed.  There were weights that caused her eyes to close.  And in all fairness he did try to glue the back of her head back on, but she was just never the same.  And since he had pretty well performed a patrial lobotomy on her, it was just another step to rip her stomach open and see what made her cry.  That was a sort of thing that when you laid her down, air went through an opening and made her cry. 
Now Jake did make me promise that I would not tell mother what he had done.  But mother's have a way of finding this stuff out.  I tried to tell her that I had done it, because I knew he was going to get a licking.  I was a girl so I did not get punished like the boy did.  And mother never did it herself.  Maybe Dad did.  I don't remember.  I do know he got in very bad trouble.  I could not understand why Mother was so upset.  It had come from Santa, but you would have thought it came out of her pocket.  Hmmm.
But that is not the Christmas gift I remember the most.  The last one I remember and it will always stick in my mind was simply a book, a red ball, an orange and some candy in a sack.  I  think I remember it most because that was the year I made the connection with momma and Santa Claus.  All the years that I thought he was so wonderful, he did not even exist.  My mother was putting money away a little at a time so us little ragamuffins could get something from Santa.
Santa has been going around garnering praise for all these years while mothers and fathers do without so he can get the glory.  I did it for my kids and in keeping with the season, I am going to tell about some of the Christmas's for my little kiddies.  I am not real proud of all of them, but they are what they are.  It is hard to hide the truth for very long.  So let me get my head together and I will share with you a few of the Seeger Family Christmases!

This was last year's Christmas Tree!

Now even I have to admit that is a sad sight for a Christmas Tree!  That was last year and this year is shaping up to be a little bit better.  This poor dead tree is laying out by the trash barrel and is well on it's way to becoming compost!  Bret and Amanda have the big tree up over there where the treadmill is so we are good to go.  Course if someone hits the button the tree is going to shoot out through the front window.

Today would have been Kenny's birthday, had he hung around, but we know he did not.  Being a widow pretty much sucks if you want to know the truth of the whole matter.  Divorces are so cathartic!  Mother always told me, when I was ranting and raving  about something one of the idiot husbands had done to bring about the latest divorce, "If you are ever a widow your husband will take on sainthood."  Mothers are always right!  I do not understand that, though, because I am a mother and I am not always right!  I digress.

I have been alone 7 years.  That is a long time.  From Thanksgiving until the end of January, I pretty much stay in a funk.  I had lunch yesterday with a minister friend and he was telling me how lackadaisical he has been the last few weeks.  We talked a bit and then he mentioned his mother had been gone just one year.  I then explained to him how the grief cycle works.  Anniversaries are just that.  We may not even realize, but when we put our finger on it, we know.

So does life go on?  Sure it does.  We mark one month, then one year, then 5 years, and so it goes.  What is our alternative?  There is none.  Do our memories become less acute?  Sure they do.  What was raw emotion fades to a dull ache and that eventually turns into just another day.  Another page on the calendar and just another day to get through.  Sometimes I actually think I am going to be happy again, someday.  For now it will just have to do that the Christmas Tree is up and I think it is pretty.  I will spend more time in church this season and do a little more volunteer work.  I am actually going to Colorado Springs for the volunteer party at SCAP.  Never did that before, but Linda is insisting on it this time.

So as we enter this Holy Season, I want to tell you Merry Christmas way early.  I will miss Kenny this year, but I miss him every day anyway.  I think all the little fellow ever wanted was for me to be happy, so after seven long years I am going to work on that and it is going to start this Christmas.  I have friends and family.  I have people who love me and need me and if I can spread the cheer, that is what it is all about.  And remember,

Jesus is the reason for the season!