She thrived being a homemaker. Working at “public work,” as she called it, was never her cup of tea until she went to work part-time at Walmart in the fabrics department when she was in her sixties. She loved that job.
She kept a clean, almost immaculate house. She cooked, sewed, ran errands, taught children’s Bible classes, and, to supplement our family’s income, baby-sat three children, sometimes four, back during a time when daycares didn’t exist and women working outside the home were in the minority.
She never was the type to sit around and watch TV in the daytime. My earliest memories of her involve the things I’ve mentioned plus letter writing. Lots of it. We had moved from Tennessee to Arizona when I was three, and she wrote letters each week to her parents. She also wrote to her sisters and brother, but I’m not sure how often she did that.
Did I mention she took in ironing for other people? My dad worked in the newspaper industry, and there were times he picked up second jobs, so they both worked hard to keep our family of four living simply yet comfortably.
It was the sixties. When we moved back to Tennessee, my dad was earning ore money in a managerial position, my older brother was married, and I was in junior high. She continued to cook, clean, and sew many of my clothes. She continued to run all the errands.
One things she did that I haven’t mentioned yet is she was always teaching me. I learned to cook at an early age. The story I’m about to share is true.
When I was four, I became very sick with amoebic dysentery (we were in Arizona, a state not even 50 years old at the time). I got better, then she got it and ended up in the hospital. After she came home, she was still very weak, so somehow, for some reason, I decided to make homemade biscuits.
Yes I was four. Yes, I had my dad’s help, but she gave directions from her bed, and in my mind, I made them.
After the biscuits were made, she took a couple of bites and then asked what bowl I had used to mix the biscuit dough. I told her, and she said, “That’s the bowl I use to change the water in the fish bowl.” In other words, that was the bowl she put my goldfish and fresh water in while she cleaned out and added fresh water to the actual fish bowl.
She remember end laughed about that until she died.
When I was nine, she started teaching me how to sew. She had a treadle sewing machine, and at the time you could purchase material with the patterns in black lines for Barbie clothes. I’m sure my first attempts were horrible, but I learned. My freshman year of high school I took home ec and learned more about sewing and cooking. Both became mainstays of life for me. My high school graduation present was an electric sewing machine, and I used it until my vision got so bad I couldn’t sew anymore. That machine was used a lot and lasted…well, let’s not go into how many years.
She was not a perfect mother, just as I’m not. She wasn’t a perfect person, just as I’m not. But she loved her family with the fierceness of a mother bear, a love that was sometimes smothering, but it came from a good place. I have tried to emulate her in the good ways and avoid the not-so-good aspects of her mothering, and I am sure I’m not the only mother who has tried to do that.
A sidenote: (you know I always have a sidenote) Mom was not the kind of mother I could confide in about my problems. For example, her response to. me when a boyfriend broke up with me or maybe just a boy I had gone out with once or twice and he never called again, was “I wouldn’t want somebody that didn’t want me.” Or when I came home crying from school in seventh grade because kids had called me names because of my too-thick glasses and too–skinny body, her response was, “I’d tell them they’re not so good-looking.” Not, “Pam, you’re beautiful.” She didn’t say that because she didn’t think it, ha ha! She was always trying to “fatten” me up. But one activity I hated doing with her when I was young but enjoyed doing with her when I was sixteen and older was shopping together and going out to eat. Those events brought her the greatest joy, and we continued doing them as longs she was able and I had the ability to drive. To all you daughters, I hope you know how much your mother wants to spend t time with you. Mother’s Day is a great time to honor mothers, but honor your mother all year. You’ll regret it someday if you don’t.
Back to my topic now. I am grateful for all Mom taught me. She was known in our family for several of her creations, especially pecan pie, minute steak, and coconut pie. Here’s her recipe if you want to try it out.
Coconut custard pie
2 frozen deep-dish pie shells, thawed
1 1/2 cups sugar plus 2 tablespoons for meringe
2 tablespoons flour
3 cups 2% or whole milk
Six large eggs, divided (put egg whites in a bowl that cane be used with an electric mixer)
1 tablespoon butter
1 tablespoon vanilla flavoring
Approximately 2 1/2 cups flaked coconut
Instructions:
After pie crusts have thawed, use fork to poke holes in the bottom of each. I do this five or six times. Bake in a preheated 350 degree oven for ten minutes
For the filling, you will need a double boiler.. In the top pan of the double boiler, stir together 1 1/2 cups sugar, flour, milk, and egg yolks. Fill bottom of double boiler 3/4 full of water.
Cook on high, stirring occasionally and adding water to the bottom pan until mixture coats a wooden spoon. This may take as long as an hour and a half. I sometimes use a whisk to make sure lumps do not form. Remove from heat and add butter and vanilla flavoring. Stir well. Stir in 1 1/2 cups of coconut and pour evenly into two pie shells.
In a separate bowl where you have placed the egg whites, add a few dashes of cream of tartar or a few dashes of salt and beat until stiff peaks form. Add two tablespoons sugar, then spread meringue mixture on top of custard. Sprinkle coconut on top of meringue, using as much or as little as you’d like.
Place in 350o-degree oven and bake until meringue is lightly browned. Cool pies completely, then cover and place in refrigerator to chill. My dad always preferred coconut pie served warm, but if you do this, the custard filling will be thin. It is best to chill for firmness.
Happy Mother’s Day!
Life As I know it 