May 30, 2011
A Fifties Childhood
|
My mother often described her idealic childhood in Atlanta with lots of play time, going to the park to swim with her daddy, having ice cream cones whenever she asked for them, being doted on with attention because she was the youngest by twelve years and truly the baby. I guess when I was a kid it seemed like she had it better than me.
Our Ohio farm life required daily chores, extra stuff on Saturday, play time on rainy days, going to Dairy Queen only if we baled some outrageous amount that day or going to the neighbors' pond to swim if we could talk my mother into it. My brother and I were usually teamed together for chores, and created games as we worked. I spy, I'll list out four toys but you can only have one...which one do you pick, and those kind of things. Growing up in the fifties was simplistic. We didn't have a TV until I was eightwe listened to the radio for entertainmentThe Lone Ranger, Cleveland Indians baseball games, and Amos 'N Andy. When we got the TV there were three channels and we quickly developed our favorites: Ed Sullivan, Palidan, Gunsmoke, and two years later our all time favorite... The Mickey Mouse Club. I still remember how Mom surprised me on one birthday with a set of mouse ears and a subscription to the magazine. My little sis liked the part where they sang the anthem song and said their names. My brother, Richie, and I liked The Spin and Marty series. We'd get home from school and hurry to do chores so that Mom would let us watch the show that came on at 5 P.M.
My childhood memories are a stark contrast to what my mother had and yet I remember them with the same amount of fondness as she remembers hers. All of the chores taught me responsibility and discipline, two things that would account for my self-motivation and success. I certainly didn't appreciate it at the time but Dad told me that some day I would. He was so right. So, in a way it's as much about what I learned that has stayed with me as it is the fun we had.
|
|
Posted by Nancy Rossman
on May 30, 2011 at 10:26 AM
in Childhood Memories |
Permalink
|
Comments (1)
|
|
|
|
May 23, 2011
Do All Mothers have Secrets?
|
I have known my mother for 65 years, now longer than anyone. It is daunting to consider. I thought I knew everything that there was to know in regard to important events and people in her life. She has never been one that I imagined had secrets.
Looking back she began to open up to me as a woman when she was in her sixties, and that is when slowly, very slowly I started putting pieces of her life together. It would have been easy to judge some of the things she has done in her life until I imagined if someone took my life under the microscope for inspection. I kept quiet about the shock I felt on occasion, remembering how she handled me in my midwest sixties upbringing...never asking too many questions which always made me want to tell her more. In fact, I think I tried to shock her. I used the same psychology on her ... I don't think she knew I turned the tables on her but she might have.
She had a love before my father, which I already knew. What I didn't know was the depth of that relationship and also how many times she saw Peter while married to my father. Nothing illicit happened but the pull on her heart strings was nearly unbearable. When I began to write the book she wanted me to understand her feelings and she worked hard to put me in her shoes. "...remember your first love? the kiss? what he smelled like? the rapid heartbeat?" she said.
Sometimes it was hard to hear. Sometimes I had difficulty picturing my mother as a foolish twenty-year-old full of lust.
The questions I asked were always answered. I distanced myself as daughter and immersed myself in the role as writer. I was nearly finished with the book when I got the biggest pit in my belly. Tears formed, my heart raced. I dialed her number as quickly as I could.
"Mom, was Dad a mistake?" I asked.
What do you think she said?
|
|
Posted by Nancy Rossman
on May 23, 2011 at 10:10 AM
in What we Learn about our Mothers |
Permalink
|
Comments (7)
|
|
|
|
May 16, 2011
Choices
|
Although I had nothing to do with it, my first role was daughter. This was quickly followed by sister and then later friend, girlfriend, lover, wife, and mother. I watched my mother and other women juggle their life. I watched at how well they did and promised myself to never make the mistakes I saw.
It didn't take long to feel buried under the weight of all the roles I had to play. I respected just how hard it was. More than that was how often I needed to prioritize or even choose one role over another. I made mistakes I vowed I would never make. The hardest thing to learn was to not look over my shoulder (at the past) with regret but to look forward to the future with optimism.
Now I have perspective on life and I contemplate WHICH one of the roles women play is the most difficult and I keep coming back to mother. Because it never ends? Maybe. My daughter now asks my advice weekly (this is something new) and even my ninety-year-old mother calls for help. Yikes!
|
|
Posted by Nancy Rossman
on May 16, 2011 at 11:05 AM
in Women's roles |
Permalink
|
Comments (0)
|
|
|
|
May 9, 2011
How We are Different
|
Last week I talked about the similar childhood experiences my mother and I shared by having such strong father figures. This was a positive buldiing block and one I am proud to have had. Not always do men who become fathers take the role seriously and with such deep commitment. But this experiencet is where our similarities end.
My mother grew up in a privileged urban Southern family. There was household help, art, music, and leisure. A refined lifestyle also aptly describes her environment. And, she was the youngest child by twelve years thus making her rearing almost as if an only child. She never had chores. Money was not piled high but there was always enough to be comfortable, take dance and piano lessons.
I was the oldest of three children. My rural midwestern upbringing happened on a farm. Chores, cows to milk, calves to feed. "When do y'all have fun," my mother joked early on. Little did she know it would be a lifestyle. And the work only increased as my father was more successful and needed all of us to help him. We didn't have time to do much else. A very special day was just driving to Cleveland to see Grandma Lilly and perhaps taking a ride on the rapid transit to Higbee's where we'd have lunch at The Silver Grille.
We teased my mother that she barely knew her way to the barn but she shrugged it off. "I know where it is ... I just don't like to go. It smells funny out there."
Actually, now that I think about it ... she was right.
|
|
Posted by Nancy Rossman
on May 9, 2011 at 1:45 PM
in My Mother and I |
Permalink
|
Comments (0)
|
|
|
|
May 3, 2011
Thoughts Approaching Mother's Day
|
|
When I was five I thought my mother was the smartest and prettiest woman in the world. I worshipped her every move and believed her every word. At age ten I thought she was still pretty and knew a lot. Then at fifteen I wondered what alien planet had dropped her on the earth and how in the world she managed to function. At age twenty I thought she must be reading a lot of books at night and somehow she had managed to get a better looking hairdo. At age thirty I thought I knew better than she but I consulted her on occasion. At age forty I could not believe how dumb I was and how many times she was more right about things than me.
Of late, even though I never gave it much consideration, my mother and I share many similar childhood experiences and family situations even though she was born in 1919 and I was born in 1945. History has repeated itself to a degree. We each had strong father figures who provided leadership, respect, and love. We had comfort and security. Both of our fathers graduated from college (especially rare for my mother). Education was emphasized as were sports. We learned to do a little bit of everything. Our fathers were decent and respectable … honorable and loyal. Family was more important than material gain.
My mother and I are both social and laugh a lot. I’m not sure that comes from our fathers, but more perhaps from just liking people and having a curious nature about us. Plus we both appreciate humor and love laughter. I know that my mother’s ability to stop and talk to anyone about anything annoyed me as a teenager and young adult. Every once in a while my brother reminds me that now I do the same thing. Funny, isn’t it? Not long ago I looked in the mirror and there it was….my mother’s face!
|
|
Posted by Nancy Rossman
on May 3, 2011 at 3:05 PM
in My Mother and I |
Permalink
|
Comments (2)
|
|
|
|