Questing Parson: If Mama Were Here

September 26, 2011

If Mama Were Here

Mama was a smart woman. I didn't say Mama was an educated woman, in the traditional sense. She only completed the fourth grade, which is shocking as her father was the principal. Her baby sister told me it was because Mama was spoiled. But that's another story. Mama was a smart woman.

Being the smart woman she was, Mama knew things had to be run according to a set of rules. One made one's bed in the morning whether or not another might or might not come into one's room. One arrived where one said one would arrive at the precise time one promised to arrive. One said, “May I be excused,” before leaving the table. And after church one said to the preacher, “Enjoyed the sermon,” whether one did or not.

Mama insisted shoes being worn should be shined. Mama was a stickler on a proper crease in one's pants. Ladies always, according to Mama, wore a hat to church and always carried a properly matching purse. Gentlemen, according to Mama, opened doors for ladies, and this applied even after Mama experienced her and the rest of the ladies Womens Liberation.

Mama, despite her limited fourth grade education, was a keen critic of the world we inhabited. The governor, she once told us, needed to learn to read his own speeches. The street cars, she said, (if you're so young you don't know what a street car is ask your grandmother), would be a lot neater if the transit people would provide a trash container. That container, she noted, could be bought for a quarter at Woolworth's. (If you're not familiar with Woolworth's, ask your grandmother.) The preacher would do better, despite the fact she told him she enjoyed the sermon, if he'd use a manuscript so he wouldn't walk three times around Jericho before he arrived at Jerusalem.

Mama was a diminutive woman. She was barely five foot tall and never was she overweight. Yet, Mama was definitely physically above average. When she was ninety, her baby sister, the same one who was the rat about her being spoiled, called me over to Mama's house. Mama was hoeing the garden. “Tell him about you foot,” baby sister said. “Doctor said I sprung it pretty bad,” said Mama. “Tell him what the doctor said,” baby sister demanded. Mama said nothing. Baby sister waited. “Tell him what the doctor said.” Mama said nothing. Baby sister turned to me and once again was the rat. “The doctor said for her to keep her weight off it.” Mama picked up her foot and continued to weed the garden as she hopped along on the other foot.

I remember the day I became aware of Mama's strength. It was the day the back of her hand contacted my nose two seconds after I disrespected my mother.

As the 2012 election picks up momentum, I've been thinking about the vitriolic language spewing forth from the mouths of candidates. I've been thinking about people applauding other people dying. I've been thinking about the booing, the disrespect.

Mama was a smart woman. Mama was a strong woman. Mama knew what was wrong and what was right. If Mama were alive, some of us would get the back of her hand and some others would have their mouth washed out with soap. I learned my manners from my Mama. I don't know where they did.