Remembering Mama's Gentle Touch

Things could not have been much worse on September 20,1930 in a rural renter's house in the South. The depression was at it's toughest and people were fortunate to have shelter and food for the table. I didn't know much about that because I was born that day in those circumstances. I was not supposed to. I wasn't due until mid November. It seems I have been places I should not have been from that day on.

My early appearance was due to the fact that my mother (always known as Mama) was very ill. She had developed a kidney infection several days before and now had become critical. I was the ninth birth for Mama, two previous ones had died at birth and it now appeared she would have a third. The doctor told her not to be concerned about me, that I would not make it but she needed desperately to concentrate on taking care of herself. Fortunately I had a fifteen year old sister and a step-grandmother who came to the rescue and helped the two of us to live.

Mama was a very typical "pilgrim type" woman whose day began before anyone else, when she arose and built a fire in the old "Home Comfort" wood stove and made breakfast before calling all else to get up. We always had 2 or more milk cows, which she milked shortly after breakfast, did the rest of the early morning chores and then began preparing the noon meal. One of my older brothers helped her with the milking and feeding of our livestock until I became old enough and those chores became mine.

Mama was as near a perfect mother as one can describe. She agonized when one of her children was sick or injured. She saved plenty of washed and bleached flour sack material for bandages and she was an expert in bandaging a cut or bruised toe or finger, which seemed almost daily in our household. She kept a supply of Mercurochrome and Senna laxative.

I was a puny, sickly kid for several years. I don't know if it was because of my pathetic beginning or malnutrition, worms, or what. But I'll never forget the tender care Mama gave me when I was sick. She kept a good watch on my tongue, and a white coat on it always meant a dose of Senna leaf tea. Gaaaah! I cannot drink regular tea today because of that horrible stuff. But if I became nauseous and had to vomit, I recall that she would hold me steady with one hand and hold my forehead in the palm of the other. Nothing has ever been more comforting than that hand holding my forehead. May God tell her how thankful I am to this day for that.

She had a hard life as far as hours of hard work, having limited monies and the pleasures that money can buy. But she lived for her children and her husband and attending to their needs was sufficient for her own happiness. She wore a long apron tied around her waist most of the time, to help catch bits of food she was preparing and other such chores. She sewed her own clothes, patched our work clothes, normally denim overalls, when holes came in the knees or seat.

She always seemed to have a special place in her heart for me, probably stemming from the fact that I was so sickly in my early years. But, the hard life began to get some better for us, although the older children were mostly away from home by then. My father and I built a new home in the late 1940's, with a number of conveniences that Mama never had before but she requested that a new range still be a wood burner, which she got.

Then my father passed away in 1950 from leukemia and I was drafted into the army in early 1951, leaving Mama and child number 10, a baby sister who had come along in 1938, to rough it alone. So, her hard times returned until I was discharged in 1953 and my next oldest brother also was soon discharged and we came home to a thankful mother. She wanted us to sell the old farm and get her a smaller house in the local town, which we did. She had to learn anew how to cook though because the new home had no provisions for a wood burning cook stove. But that was no problem. She had always been, and remained one of the best cooks one could imagine.

My older brother and I each married in a few years leaving her with our sister but we were still nearby and helped watch after her. My sister later married and Mama continued to live with them. She slipped and fell one day and broke her hip. She healed but the trauma, or something caused her mind to deteriorate until she became totally helpless. She was finally placed in the local nursing home until she passed away. I'm very grateful that she had a number of years in a more modern setting with conveniences, including a television which she enjoyed.

She loved her children. But it goes without saying, she raised eight children who loved her dearly. That is really all she ever wanted. I yearn to see her again.



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» left by Anonymous

3 years 5 days ago.

A great article. I really enjoyed reading it. Brought back memories of women who in my youth were grandmothers to people my age. It was just the way that generation of women were. To my eyes they brought great glory to motherhood. Times have changed but I miss the women of yesteryear but those days are mostly gone to never return again (a lot of it through no fault of today's women either - it is just a different world today).

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» left by Joel Hendon 3 years 5 days ago.

Thank you Anon, for reading and commenting. Yes, sadly you are right, things  are just not right anymore to go back that way. Really, I hope conditions never get that bad again. But if they did, I feel sure there are still some women left that would adapt and take charge of their families again.

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» left by Linda DeWitt

3 years 5 days ago.
67 fans. Follow Linda DeWitt on twitter!

A nice tribute to your Mom. Thank you for sharing Joel.

Linda D

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» left by Joel Hendon 3 years 5 days ago.

Thank you for reading and commenting Linda.

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