"On Mom's Isms"

My mother was a woman of few words.  There were no lengthy monologues expressing her feelings or thoughts but brief, to-the-point sayings, what I call "isms."  Quotes--brief, concise, and quite pragmatic, they were a'propos for each occasion or circumstance which arose.  It is impossible to mentally retrieve them on demand, but during my daily life I find myself repeatedly saying, "As my mother would say...."  And one of her quotes comes forth. 

This is a collection of Mom's "isms," those personal expressions I connect exclusively with her.  While they may have more meaning to my children and extended family than those who did not know her, they may resonate with others as well, as they come from another time and place.  Perhaps they will initiate some of your own memories of people in your life as well.  Enjoy.

  1.  "Things could be worse."  This was a classic of my Mother.  It was my chore to dry the          dishes she washed by hand.  I remember standing at the sink baring my soul with all            the angst of a teenager, and this was her response.  Though I never spoke
       it, I usually thought, "They could be better too."
  2.  "Six of one, a half dozen of another."  When making a decision between two things that
       were similar, this was the solution.  It's a way of saying that it really doesn't make any
       difference. 
  3.  "Don't cry over spilled milk."  You can't change what's happened.  There's no going
       back, no doing it all over again, so just deal with it and don't make a fuss about it.
  4.  "To each his own."  This was my Mother's way of expressing the individuality and
       uniqueness of each person and was her personal acknowledgement life is lived                    according to themselves and no other.  Do not judge and do not waste your time                    trying to figure other people out.
  5.  "If it's a bear it would have bit you."  Try explaining this one to an 8-year-old munchkin
       who takes everything literally.  You know when you search high and low for something
       you've lost, and you find it in a very obvious place, one you've overlooked?  That is
       when this is applicable.
  6.   "You make a better door than you do a window."  This was Mom's approach when
        someone was blocking the view.  Get out of the way.  Straight-forward, direct. 
  7.   "It'll keep" or "It's not going anywhere."  Unfinished work, projects left undone
        because other demands of daily life called.  There IS always another day to deal with
         them.
  8.   "Don't count your chickens before they hatch."  Things may not turn out the way you
        would like them to.  It's better to just wait and see.
  9.   "I wouldn't lose any sleep over it."  Whatever is going on, it isn't worth worrying
        about.
10.   "When it rains, it pours."  We have all experienced this one.  You just get through a
        difficult set of circumstances, and another appears.  You finally get through that one,
        and yet another one rears its ugly head.  As I recollect, these were never easy       
        situations, but the kind that buckle you at the knees.  Which leads me to my next
        one:
11.  "Things always come in threes."  According to my mother, events came in sets of
       3.  It could be deaths, births, broken dishes, sicknesses--calamities large and small. 
       She had a pretty broad view as to what was covered.
12.  "It won't kill you."  As you can well imagine, there was no arguing when she pulled this
        one out of her arsenal.  It didn't matter what my brothers or I didn't want to do or didn't          like doing, this one sealed the deal for her.  She was right.  It wouldn't and didn't kill              us.
13.  "Were you born in a barn?"  I was raised on a farm. This was Mom's admonition when          we didn't close a door behind us. 
14.  "If I give you an inch, you'll take a mile."  I was a difficult child.  There was no malice,   
        but I did push the boundaries.  My persistence, strong will, and stubbornness caused
       my parents grief.
15.  "Just sleep on it."  Mom's sage advice, which was passed down from my grandmother,          in dealing with problems.  She maintained a solution would usually come forth in the              morning.
16.  "Too much of a good thing."  Overstimulation in today's vernacular, when fun is no                  longer fun.
17.  "Your eyes are bigger than your stomach."  This was an oft repeated saying at family            gatherings when food abounded.
18.  "You bit off more than you can chew."  A succinct expression of good intentions with              less than ideal results.
19.  "You're making a mountain out of a mole hill."  Overthinking, creating a problem where          one doesn't exist.
        

"As my mother would say....," coming from my own mouth, is a gentle reminder of the woman who was in my life for over 40 years.  A part of my present, everyday, practical living, her "isms" will continue to surface for the rest of my life.  And perhaps this reinforces the principle as well that what we say matters and lives on long after we are gone.    

"A Little Pit Bull's Observation"

The softball game had been going on for a long time, and she was very, very bored.  Watching the older sister play wasn't all that appealing or interesting, but she wasn't making a real fuss about it.  She was just "bored and hungry."  And itchy, because she had done some cartwheels and headstands in the grass.

In between the periods of boredom and hunger she expressed a thought she had just had. "I think," she said, as she looked out at the ball field, "that all the blades of grass, the weeds, and the flowers represent all  the people in the world.  The weeds are the bad people, the flowers are the good people, and the grass represents everyone else, people who aren't good or bad."  She went on to explain that when these living representations die it is because a person has died, and when new life grows it is because a baby has been born.

The command of language and expression this little one has stretches beyond her 8 years.  Her perceptions are priceless, and she is wise beyond those years.  I told her that I was going to write her profound observation down so she could read it someday when she is a grown woman.  And so I am.  Tell me you'll look at a patch of lawn or vegetation in the same way as you did before you read the wisdom of Miss Syd.  And tell me her observation isn't so. 

"Justice, Thy Name Is Sydnee"

It was all about the jump rope, and the 8-year-old was on a rant.  I listened as she and her older sister came into the house, the little one expressing her position loudly and clearly.  "It's her jump rope, and she can do whatever she wants to with it.  If she doesn't want you to play with it she doesn't have to."  It didn't matter that she was dealing with an older, much larger girl.  It was all about what is right.  Sydnee did not like the way the neighbor girl was playing with her sister's birthday gift and was afraid she was going to break it.   The end.  Case closed. 

The word "justice" entered my mind, applicable to this little pit-bull of a girl.  Sydnee is the one I spoke of in an earlier blog, "On Hypocrisy."   She has always been a fire-ball, expressive, one who has command of language, and she uses those attributes well.  It is in her DNA to stand up for others, to verbally fight for that which is fair and just.  She does it at school, at home, at play.  She cannot help herself; she can do and be no other way.  When she takes a stand nothing dissuades her.

When they came in the house, dictionaries came out, and we looked up that word.  I had asked the girls if they knew what it meant.  They had an idea, but clarification was in order.  "Fair treatment" was the definition we found, and both understood the truth of it and how it played into their everyday lives. 

Mom came home from work, and we were talking about the equivalency of Sydnee and justice.  Her comment says it all:  "Yes.  You really do want Syd to have your back."  Sydnee is one whose smile starts in her eyes before it hits her mouth.  Her eyes twinkled, then she smiled.  "Mommy, I did justice today."   No, Sydnee, you personify justice.

Our court system is far removed from justice these days.  The use of plea bargaining negates it all.  The idea of justice may still be there, but it has become debased.  Fair and impartial treatment may be promised yet not delivered.

This much I know:  I would rather have Sydnee for me than against me.  She'll take on anyone regardless of size, age, or gender when she thinks she is right.  And when it comes to discerning what is just and what isn't, she usually is--right, that is.  I have no idea where this little one's life is going to end up, but I do know that wherever she goes, whatever she does, justice will prevail.  Justice, thy name is Sydnee.

"Don't Count the Barberry Shrubs"

My gardening business is in its twelfth season, and I know better, but I did it anyway.  Pruning the berberis or barberry shrubs has been on my to-do list for quite some time.  My clients have been away for six weeks and asked me to complete the work before they return.  That deadline is less than a week away.  What have I done that I shouldn’t have?  I counted the number of barberry shrubs needing to be pruned.

Most of my work is gratifying.  There are, however, two tasks I have encountered which I loathe and dread.  The first is dealing with ivy.  As a first job in my fledgling business, I was asked to remove a mass of ivy.  Its far-reaching tendrils had found their way into the interior of the home and needed to be removed at the source.  The damaged knuckle on my index finger from trying to remove it is a reminder of its tenacity. 

The second is dealing with barberry shrubs.  Aptly named as their branches are covered with barbed thorns, I often wonder if a plant such as this was used to create the crown of thorns for Christ.  A friendly shrub it is not.  Even with leather gloves on, the thorns, which are barbed like fishhooks, penetrate fingers and knuckles.  In an attempt to remove them, the barbed end breaks off, remaining embedded, and it takes several weeks before surfacing.  Shearing the shrubs is not an option as a more natural look has been requested, so each individual branch is pruned.

As a kid, summers were spent picking row crops in the fields of local farmers—strawberries, raspberries, and beans.  If you’ve ever seen a field of berries or beans growing you know how long the rows are.  I asked my brother to speculate the length and his answer, “Too long,” says it well.  For anyone, especially a child, reaching the end of the row and completing the collection of fruits or veggies is an overwhelming prospect.  My approach in dealing with the intimidating assignment was to never look up, making it somewhat manageable. 

As a gardener, using that same method when asked to weed a massive garden bed, rake a mountain of leaves, apply bark or dirt, or deal with a to-do list a mile long makes completing those gardening tasks feasible as well—one I did not apply when pruning the barberry shrubs.

Practicing a similar attitude in daily life is effective also.  Each of us face projects or situations in life which are massive, monumental, overwhelming.  Perhaps it is planning a move, a wedding, a trip; preparing for retirement or creating a place for a new child coming into the family; facing a pending surgery or beginning a new job.  Even dealing with a weekly schedule for a family can be difficult as homework, social activities and sports practices, games, dance, or music lessons fill the hours after school.  And then there are the meals.

The old-timers had an expression, “Just keep your nose to the grindstone.”  The origin is said to go back to the days when tools were sharpened on a stone and there was a need for the one doing the sharpening to stay close to the stone while applying pressure.  The gist of it is to keep your head down and keep going.  

Every journey, every enterprise, no matter how large or small, begins with a single step.  If you meet and address the situation, moving forward a step at a time, the whole of it won’t mentally swamp you, a tidal wave of sorts.  And many of life’s situations do have the potential to wipe you out before you even get started if you look ahead.  Case in point:  31 barberry shrubs.  31.  I counted them.

The pruning is almost completed.  There are 4 left.  The job would not have been so insurmountable if I had applied the wisdom of my childhood.  The length of time it has taken me to get it done is a stark indicator of my not adhering to my own philosophy.  I would like to think that the next go-round I will practice what I preach, that I will simply tackle the job and move forward without looking ahead.  I'm not offering any promises or guarantees on that one though.  

"A Pearl From My Daughter"

This from my daughter, after listening to a minister trying to "sell his wares," his faith, to a captive audience, those attending a funeral service:  "It isn't that hard.  You either believe, or you don't.  And you can write that on your blog, Mom."  There isn't much to argue with here, don't you agree?

"On the Care and Feeding of Things"

In an effort to avoid working in potential rain yesterday, I ended up coming home with a new set of tires in addition to an alignment and having the wheel bearings packed on my pickup truck. At the time I was thinking it probably would have behooved me to grit my teeth, put my raingear on, and head out instead of trying to find a way out of my gardening work.  Granted, the work on the truck was necessary, and my tires were in pretty bad shape, but I was hoping to stretch the purchase into fall.  No such luck!

Getting the tires rotated has been on my to-do list for a while now, but the tire shop is generally so busy I don't have the time to wait.  As I drove by I noticed an empty bay and, given my frame of mind yesterday, it was a perfect time to pop in, get the tires rotated, and head off to deal with my lengthy gardening list.  Instead, it was 3 hours and $1012.55 later before I even got started on my workday. 

My pickup truck has never been named, although I was seriously considering it after yet another expenditure.  If I could get away with it I would give it a name and a Social Security number and claim it as an exemption on my taxes.  After all, it costs far more to feed than I spend on myself.  My gas bill is exorbitant.  Anything I may want or need always takes a second chair to it.  It is my workhorse, a necessity in my gardening world, and it is given nothing but the best--on demand.  I certainly don't apply that to myself.  Even when I had small children they were told of the need to wait.  Not so my truck.  Postponement of work or maintenance could mean an even worse problem or greater expense down the road. 

As I was weed-eating Bruce's orchard I found myself thinking about those inanimate objects  in our lives called "things."  I have wrestled with the "thing" thing.  I know that each of us came into this world with nothing, and we leave with nothing.  One only has to deal with the estate of a parent or other family member who has passed to be made aware of that.  I am also aware that "Life doesn't consist of the abundance of things, but of every word that comes from the mouth of God."  Now, there's something to bite into and chew on for a while.

This is the conclusion I have come to:  There are acquisitions and then there are gifts.  God loves to give.  He is not a God of denial.  What He gives is personal, suits us individually, and satisfies a place within.  An acquisition, on the other hand, is that which I have acquired, and we all know how easily those can be wrested from us.  "Easy come, easy go" is a phrase each of us can relate to.   

My  Ford Ranger pickup is a gift and has served me well.  I actually found myself admiring my new tires.  They certainly are providing a smoother ride and peace of mind.  Initially I considered them to just be a "thing."  After some time in Bruce's garden I find I am viewing them through a different set of lenses, and they are indeed a gift.  It's all in the perspective, and that is another gift as well. 

"On Fun In a Box"

 
The week before Easter two of my children were given notice they had lost their jobs.  In fact, they found out within three days of one another.  The clothing company my daughter worked for declared bankruptcy, pulling the rug out from underneath her.  The bank where my son had worked over 20 years consolidated two areas, and he found he was odd man out.  When the family got together on Easter Sunday there was no pall cast upon us, but there was talk of unemployment and its ramifications, the uncertainty of the future.  It is hard to ignore such a drastic change in the lives of family members nor did we want to.

Easter Sunday was a glorious, sunny day, one that is not a guarantee at this time of the year in the Pacific Northwest.  The family was gathered outside on the patio, my son-in-law tending the meat on the grill, the cousins running back and forth playing.  Another of my daughters brought out a little box of jelly beans.  The description on it was Bean Boozled, but I call it "Fun In a Box," because it was--such fun that is.

In appearance these looked like ordinary jelly beans; in fact they were anything but ordinary.  The box had a mix of regular, tasty candies and absolutely gross, disgusting flavors.  Choosing one was a Russian roulette of sorts.  Each color was identified on the back of the box as an either/or, but there was no way of knowing which was which.

It was "game on."  Three of the siblings and a brave 8-year-old granddaughter began taking turns.  The expression on their faces was absolutely priceless as they popped a jelly bean into their mouths, awaiting the taste that would make its way into their taste buds and then recognition.  When the flavor was a good one the face lit up as they chewed and swallowed.  When it fell into the other category the sounds made along with the contorted face as they found their way to a garbage container was absolutely hilarious.  These were flavors that would make anyone react--skunk, stinky socks, lawn clippings, baby wipes, toothpaste, moldy cheese, rotten egg, barf.  Do not ask me why anyone would keep going back for more, but they did.  And the laughter rolled.

Syd, the brave grandgirl, chose one which was either popcorn or booger--yes, I said booger.  Pop, chew, taste--oh no, it was booger!  Her approach was to discard the vile candy and head into the kitchen for an aerosol shot of whipped cream before coming back for more.  Cleansing her palate as it were.  An image that will live forever in my mind was when my son chomped down on one that tasted like canned dog food.  He has a stomach like cast iron, but I really thought he was going to lose it on that one!

They say that the best things in life are free, and I do agree.  My daughter had to buy that little box of fun, but for me it falls in the category of being a best thing.  The memory of that fun time together and the laughter that filled the air will continue to live within me.  Even though there are upheavals in the family's circumstances, Easter 2014 was a good day.