Memories of Grandma and Grandpa

Mother’s Day Speech, May 1994, First United Methodist Church, Trenton

By Doris Boyer Wilson (1921-2009)

As I collected my thoughts for my talk today on this day when we honor mothers, I thought that of all the roles today’s mothers must fill, that of nurturer is most important. Good mothers are always nurturers, but not all nurturers are birth mothers. We could mention many but I am first reminded of Abraham Lincoln’s famous words about his mother — the mother who cared for and encouraged him — “All that I am or hope to be I owe to my angel mother.” And she was not his birth mother. So today I would like to honor all those who fill the role of nurturer.

The influence of a good mother can be very far reaching as expressed in this excerpt from the book Days of Grace by Arthur Ashe. He says and I quote, “I know that I haven’t always lived without sin or error but I know that I have tried at all times to be good and honest. I have never sinned or erred without knowing that I was being watched. Who was watching me? Among others my mother, Mattie Cordell Cunningham Ashe, watches me. She died when I was not quite seven and I remember little about her except for two images. My last sight of her alive. I was finishing breakfast and she was standing at the doorway looking lovingly at me. She was dressed in her blue corduroy dressing gown. And I remember the last time I saw her in a coffin at home. She was wearing her best dress made of pink satin. Every day since then I have thought of her. She is with me every day, watching every thing that I do. Whenever I talk to young people about the morality of decisions they make in life I usually tell them — Don’t do anything you couldn’t tell your mother about.” Now I must add that in his book he also credits his father and speaks of his influence and expectations for good behavior.

An interviewer once asked Arthur, “How is it that I never hear anything bad about you? Why are you such a goody-goody?” He just laughed and told her what I have just told you.

In the closing chapter of his book, he addresses a letter to his daughter in which he says, “Camera, have faith in God. Do not be tempted by pleasures or material possessions into thinking that religion is obsolete or that worship is beneath you. Spiritual nourishment is as important as physical or intellectual nourishment.”

This is the legacy of one of the finest men of our time and he passes it on to his daughter, to us, and to this nation of ours so troubled by its rising crime rate, for surely we are finding that we can’t legislate morality and that by adding more police officers or building more jails we are not solving our problems. It will take time but we are becoming increasingly aware that we need strengthening of the family and a return to the old-fashioned values and morality if we are to have a better society . . .

As I think of my own upbringing I find that I cannot speak of my mother without acknowledging my father who dearly loved her and stood firmly behind her in all matters pertaining to our upbringing. In this regard I am reminded of a line from the play, How Green Was My Valley. The young son says, “If my father was the head of the family, my mother was its heart.” Ours was indeed such a family. It was an old-fashioned family, though I feel quite sure typical of those times. My father was the breadwinner. He tended the fires (no small chore in those days of coal-fed fires). He planted and tended our large vegetable garden and did the things that were considered men’s work. He was a strict disciplinarian and we never dared to disobey him. We learned at an early age that if we wanted permission to do anything it paid to ask Mother. For it seemed to us our father felt that if we had to ask permission the proper answer was “no.” But we also knew that in any emergency he could be counted on to come to our rescue, like the time I dropped my school book in a rain puddle and was afraid to go to school the next day and he dried it until it was good as new.

Mother was the tender nurturer. Since we were a large family there were always little ones to care for. We were a one-car family so she was always at home. It was a standing joke in the family that when any one of us returned from school the first question was, “Where’s Mother?” My father said we would stumble over him to find her. However when he got home from work or doing errands his first question was, “Where’s Mother?”

Since I was the oldest of seven children I could see as each of my brothers and sisters arrived how tenderly she cared for each new baby, bathing, feeding, rocking and singing to them. Years later I had an experience that showed me just how important this kind of care is. I had a boy in my first-grade class who had some emotional problems. He was an adopted child and was under the care of a professional counselor. This man came to see me before school started to clue me into the situation. He said the boy Ricky had been abandoned by his parents as an infant and placed in an institution where he was physically well cared for. He was bathed, diapered, fed and sheltered and given what the counselor called “crib care.” That means that although his physical needs were met, he was never held or cuddled, rocked or talked to. The counselor told me that it is very difficult for a child with this kind of background ever to become an emotionally mature person. The family that adopted him knew of his problems and were willing to spare no effort to help him but the prognosis was not good.

To get back to my own family, it was my mother who was responsible for our spiritual development. She grew up in a small church called simply the Christian church. Her faith was simple and firm and we lived by her principles.

In our home we honored God and God’s name — no swearing. We showed respect for our parents and all adults, were taught to be kind to each other and to our friends. We knew that lying and stealing were sins and at night we knelt by our beds to say our prayers which our mother always heard. My father was an agnostic, not an atheist. He didn’t deny that there was a god but he simply found too many things in church teaching that he questioned or didn’t understand. He never opposed my mother, in fact upheld her belief and for many years cooked Sunday dinner so she could come home from church to a cooked meal. Mother sang alto in the church choir and, following her example, or rather with her encouragement, all of us excepting one brother eventually joined the choir. She also played the piano so there was much music in our home. She and I often harmonized on hymns or anthems as we worked around the kitchen. In those days there were many kitchen chores and doing them together gave us lots of time for companionship.

It was of great concern to her that my father was not baptized and it was of great comfort that eventually he was baptized and did become and active member of the church.

Although Mother was deeply religious she was not pious or austere. She had a great sense of humor and could laugh at herself on occasion — a healthy and endearing quality.

We all remember how she enjoyed surprising us with special treats. Money was scarce in those depression years but she made molasses taffy or fudge and during snowstorms would scoop up some fresh clean snow to make snow ice cream. She had a way of making simple things seem special — a nice glass of water, some good fresh bread, or a nice warm bath.

We lived in a small town which I suspect was the size of Plains, Georgia, today. We had a neighborhood school, a church, gas station, country store plus post office.

My parents came from widely different backgrounds. My mother grew up in the city of Harrisburg. My father grew up in a mountain home. As children we benefited greatly from our exposure to these widely different cultures and we enjoyed both — riding the trolley cars in the city and picking berries in the mountains. I have often felt these differences both in their background and their religious views gave us a broad view of life, making us less likely to become narrow-minded or bigoted.

Because both my parents came from big families — each came from a family of eight children — I have many relatives. I have always greatly valued my extended family. And like most of you I’m sure I have in that extended family dear friends who are closer than some blood relatives.

When I passed the age of childhood I found that both of my parents included me into the adult world. My mother and I became good companions and did many things together. As the oldest child I did have a special place in the family. Now when I asked my father for permission or for help in making decisions I found him fair and reasonable and a day came when he said I trust in your good judgment to make the right decision.

In closing let me say that I feel I was fortunate in having loving, caring parents and am happy to have had this opportunity to remember and honor them.
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