Remembering Mum’s lessons

Planting flowers around my house always reminds me of my mother. With dirty hands and knees, my dear departed mother is always heavy on my mind. When I was a young adult, she was in a fatal car accident. That was over 50 years ago, and I still miss her today.

Her seven grandchildren would have made Mum incredibly proud. My brother and I can only imagine how that woman would have spoiled those kids. They are all adults today, and her great-grandchildren would have had her sewing machine buzzing and her oven working overtime.

In a struggling world, Edna Mae was a woman of refinement, raising a family in a three-room apartment with hand-me-down clothes. Her talents ranged from pen-and-ink drawings to original designer dresses. As children she took us to art museums and listened to classical music.

Mum had a heart of gold and a spanking stick of solid oak. When we were young, my father traveled with his job, and she ruled with a velvet swat.

Proper grammar was a must, although many of our friends’ parents did not care if we said “ain’t” and “jeet-yet?” Where I grew up, “jeet-yet?” is a contraction of “Did you eat yet?” We all said it but not in front of my mother.

My mum had a tender style and a sweet smile. She was not a saint; she had her faults, but I don’t remember them very well.

Pap provided for his family and made Edna Mae laugh. Some of my most treasured memories take me back to my parents dancing in the kitchen when a favorite song came on the radio. They danced as if no one were watching; I could never take my eyes off them.

Manners were a must. One of her favorite lines was, “You will not always have to use your table manners. When you are 18 and away from this table, you can eat whatever way you like, but while you are in this house, you will use your manners.”

That meant no elbows on the table, no fingers in your food unless it was corn on the cob or chicken legs. If a sneeze occurred, you excused yourself. One of the biggest offenses was blowing your nose at the table.

Sit up straight with your feet on the floor. Napkins are on the lap unless they are being used. Utensils are held like pencils. Ask politely for bowls, platters, and salt and pepper. A knife across the top of the plate signifies you are finished.

Dirty hands were forbidden at the table. No shirt, no shoes, no service. A smile was part of your proper attire, and slurping was uncalled for at the dinner table.

Although the food Mum served was meager and hard to come by, it was prepared with love, and it tasted like it. She used to remind us that although we may not be financially well-to-do, no one has to know this by our table manners.

While dining with your mother, do not forget your best table manners. She will appreciate it.

Bobbie Randall can be reached at bobbierandallrd@gmail.com.