On this weekend when we celebrate our mothers, I’m remembering Mama and some of what made her special.

Mama was born in 1923 and lived on a farm where all the animals were kept outside. Her family had cows, pigs, chickens, mules, barn cats — and likely, a collie dog — which would have been given to them by a neighbor.

Mama’s family would have used mules to plow and pull sleds of tobacco (Duke Homestead 9/2017)

Animals were mostly valued for their utilitarian purpose; cats were to kill mice that ate the farmer’s grain, dogs were for hunting or rounding up lost calves. Calling in a veterinarian was only for the most serious illnesses since farmers didn’t have the money for the kind of care given today.

Mama was pragmatic and also compassionate. One afternoon when I was in high school, a line of ducks came waddling up from our pond to our carport. That was a sign they were out of corn — which was easy enough to remedy. But looking at them, as they checked the concrete for something edible, one of the ducks had a torn wing.

Mama sprang into action.

“Connie, go inside and get a large towel,” she instructed while she headed for her sewing trunk.

She returned to the carport with a large needle, heavy thread, bottle of alcohol, and cotton balls. Mama threaded the needle and set it nearby. She took the towel and scooped up the injured duck, swaddling him tightly and handed him to me.

“Hold him still while I sew up his wing,” she instructed. I looked at her like, “You’re not really going to do this, are you?” I didn’t know if I could maintain a firm grip that long.

Mama ignored my look and set to work, first cleaning the wound then positioning the wing where it had once been attached. She skillfully made close stitches pulling the skin together, securing the wing in place. I knew she was great at making our dresses, but I never knew she could suture an animal– especially with such calm that the duck sensed, not trying to push out of my hold.

Over the years we saw Mama’s tenderness with dogs. When I was in my twenties, I came home from Chapel Hill for a visit. I was surprised when a little fluffy, part-terrier dog was in the family room. Mama said his name was “Benji” and to this day I can’t remember the circumstances around her acquiring a dog. But what was surprising was that Benji stayed in the house. Over the years a dog may have been allowed to slip in when frightened by thunder, but once the storm passed, the canine was outside.

Later, when we three daughters had children and all of us had family dogs, those pets stayed in the house. When Mama came for a visit, the dogs stationed themselves near her, especially during meals. She would look into their begging eyes and say, “You need something to eat, too — don’t you?” and then she’d pinch off a piece of her meat or bread and slip it to the dog. Years later, when she went to live in the nursing home, I visited her and brought along my Golden Retriever, Madison. When she would lay down beside Mama’s wheelchair, she would comment about her red hair. “We have hair just alike, Madison,” she said, and rubbed the dog’s underside that was white, and Mama’s hair — once red on top, was now gray with some red still peeking out around the nape of her neck.

While Mama knew all about puppies on the farm, she didn’t know the newer meaning of the word puppies. That is until Charlotte, an English teacher at the local high school, boarded with Mama. I called home one night to tell Mama I would be coming on Saturday to go on a special shopping trip. The oldest grandchild, Emily’s wedding was in a month and I was responsible for getting Mama ready. We’d found her a pretty blue suit — Mama’s favorite color, but her worn out undergarments weren’t serving her.

“Mama, I’m taking you to Belk’s on Saturday. They have a Bra Fitting Day and you need a new one to wear under your pretty suit.”

It was quiet on her end of the line. She’d begun to have memory problems and it was hard to tell if she got what I said.

“Tell Charlotte,” Mama responded and handed Charlotte the phone.

I did tell Charlotte and the details of that bra fitting at Belk is written in the story that gives an account of that day, “Pull Those Puppies Up!” https://deadmule.com/2018/03/01/connie-rosser-riddle-pull-those-puppies-up-memoir/

I hope you’ll go to the link and read the story in its entirety. It still makes me laugh and fills me with wonderful memories of Mama. It’s fitting that the publishing home I found for the story was the Dead Mule School of Southern Literature; Mama would get a kick out of that.

After I wrote that story, I had the chance to read it at the yearly Women’s Luncheon at Mama’s church. I made sure Mama was wheeled to the front of the fellowship hall and Charlotte sat beside her where I could watch their reactions as I read.

What joy I felt to see Mama laughing until her shoulders shook and tears streaming down Charlotte’s face, enjoying that moment and their special friendship. When the reading was over, Mama went out in a cloud of glory as the women came over to her to give her hugs and laugh some more in the shared experiences of women. That would be the last event Mama attended at her church since transporting her had become too difficult.

How glad I was that she had a fun day of love and laughter.

Best to you on this Mother’s Day weekend, remembering your mother and celebrating all she meant to you and others.

Connie