Happy Mother's Day

a post from Richard, Bea, and Harriet

Belle is taking today off as FTT editor. We’re going to spoil her with breakfast, native plant shopping, and time to read and relax. But because we aren’t with them today, here are some thoughts about Nana and Mamie from Richard, Bea and Harriet.

Richard on his mom:

Here are a few reasons I remain grateful to my mom, Sheila, for dealing gracefully with the challenges of having me for a son:

- I missed the bus so many times as a kid. After leaving the house late, I would run to the bus stop, hoping that if I couldn't get to the actual stop before the bus arrived, I could at least get close enough for the driver to see me before he pulled away.

Sometimes, after all the other kids had boarded, the driver would see me yelling and waving my arms in the distance and wait for me to arrive. Other times he wouldn't. I'm pretty sure sometimes he saw me running and waving my arms in the distance but I was so far away that it would have thrown off the entire rest of the route to wait for me to arrive.

After watching the bus pull away, I'd pause for a second to wheeze, then turn around and run home, where I'd have to admit I missed the bus... again, and ask my mom to drive me to a stop later in the bus route in hopes the bus hadn't gotten there yet... again.

Though Bea and Harriet ride the bus home, their school has too few bus routes for riding the bus in the morning to be practical. They'd have to be on the bus for over an hour before arriving. So Belle and I drive them, and some mornings they can be a bit slow to get themselves and their stuff into the car. When I am racing the clock to get them there by 7:55, they hear about it quite a bit.

My mom never complained about having to drop everything and drive me. She'd simply get her keys and go off chasing the bus in her bathrobe with her terminally late son in the passenger seat.

- Neither cursing nor taking the Lord's name in vain were allowed in the Allen household. As an adult, I swear more times after dropping a moderately heavy object on my foot than my parents did over the course of my entire childhood (I have actually never heard my mother utter a profanity, but my father let one slip every five years or so).

Midway through sixth grade, I got a girlfriend, in the notional way that children do when neither of them are even within spitting distance of puberty and lack the wherewithal to actually go on any dates. For some reason, this rankled the most popular boy in my class and the leader of the little clique to which I belonged, and he turned everyone against me by beginning to call me one of the most terrible things you can call another person: "Butt."

Okay, the word itself isn't that bad, but being called "Butt" like it's your name by kids you thought you were your friends has a way of wearing on you even if you've already endured years of kids calling you "Dick" because your name is Richard.

One day I went to recess vowing to put an end to the name-calling. After he called me "Butt" from atop the jungle gym, I told him to come down and say it to my face, which he did, not expecting me to punch him, which I did. Once we'd been fighting for a bit, I ran out of adrenaline and lost the desire to keep hitting him. I got up and walked away while he yelled "come back and fight!" in the distance, certain that I had sealed my fate socially for the rest of sixth grade.

When I got home, my mom could tell something was off. When she asked what was wrong, I let my guard down and started crying. I said that it was just that this kid was such a --

You can say it, she said, in a way that let me know I could use words I was ordinarily strictly forbidden to use. Which I did.

I'm sure I've accidentally broken the family's no-swearing policy since then. But I really appreciate being allowed to break it intentionally just that one time.

Notes to younger readers:

a) In the 1980s, two elementary schoolers could have a fistfight at recess without the teachers who were supervising the playground intervening or anyone getting in trouble. They watched us from the other side of an asphalt basketball court and I think they liked to give playground fights a few minutes to run their course before making the effort to walk over and investigate.

b) What sticks out most in writing this story down for the first time is my going home and crying in anger after a fight that _I started_! I was being bullied, but not physically. I just decided the only way to save face was through fighting. And I was wrong. In this case as in most others, fighting doesn't solve anything.

Harriet on Nana:

I really like when I get to go and see Nana. I like going to play with the dolls in the basement. I remember when I went downstairs to the basement and I played with the dolls and I was doing a fashion show with them and it was really funny. I like when she always gives us magazine subscriptions for Christmas, like Ranger Rick Jr and Ranger Rick. I like her pancakes!

Belle on Nana:

Every hand-me-down toy Nana has ever given us - nice, sturdy Fisher-Price toys - is completely intact and still has all the little parts. It must have been hard to keep track of those! She knew which books to keep for the grandchildren and kept them in great shape too. The girls both really loved the collection of Richard Scarry books Nana gave us.

Bea on Mamie (and Grandpa):

When we used to go to La Quinta and Red Lobster on my birthday I looked forward to that every single year. Mamie and Grandpa would pick me up and we would go to La Quinta and put our bags down and then we would go to Red Lobster and I would always get a little platter of things - it had shrimp, lobster, broccoli, chicken - and we would always tell them that it was my birthday so they would bring me a little ice cream sundae with a candle on top and the waiters and waitresses would sing “Happy Birthday” to me. We would go back to the hotel and Mamie and I would watch some TV and we would go to bed. In the morning we would go down to the breakfast buffet and I would get waffles and put whipped cream on them. We would all eat breakfast together and we would go to Target and get toys. We would go back to the hotel and I would get to play with my toys and Mamie and I would get M & Ms from the vending machine. That was one of my favorite places to go. After breakfast we would go to the pool and me and Mamie would get in the hot tub and I would splash around in my floatie.

Walkerton is one of my favorite places to go. In Walkerton I love getting to spend time with Mamie - watching cartoons with her, going on walks to see Sammy the horse with gingersnaps. Whenever Sammy sees us he starts running towards us from the end of the field. He loves gingersnaps and he also likes apples. And also slobbering all over the place.

I love going to Scott’s Store and getting candy and soda. When I was about four, Mamie and Grandpa and I walked down to Scott’s Store and I got an orange Fanta and a Snickers bar. Then we went over to the Kiddie Kare playground and I drank the whole Fanta and I ate that Snickers bar.

I love spending time with Mamie. Going anywhere with Mamie is fun. Everyone at Clapping Hands Farm loves her—actually, everyone who meets Mamie loves her.

From Belle:

Mamie is the best traveling companion! Here is a photo from when we went to see Sylvester (and Rhiannon Giddens!) perform in Porgy and Bess in Greensboro. A memorable night that ended in long journey in a surprise snowstorm, but we lived to tell the tale!:

Happy Mother’s Day to all you mothers and mother figures! We hope you all have a great day!