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Lessons from Mother

imgresIn 1914, President Woodrow Wilson declared the second Sunday in May as Mother’s Day. A day to serve Mom breakfast in bed, take her out for lunch, and give her a homemade card, flowers, and jewelry.   My mom wore every scatter pin I gave her on her lapels and dresses. Even the one with a missing rhinestone.

Like most young children, I thought Mom was perfect. And like most teenagers, I sometimes resented her advice. As a young mother, I followed her examples and sought her advice. And some things Mom taught me I still follow, especially at suppertime, although she’s been gone twenty-five years.

I was nine years old when Mom taught me to make cornbread and it was my supper chore. I put a dollop of bacon grease in a black skillet, the one with a broken-off handle and used only for cornbread, and placed the skillet in the oven set at 425ºF. The recipe was simple: two cups Martha White self-rising cornmeal, one beaten egg, and enough buttermilk to make the right consistency. Stir with a wooden spoon until all ingredients were combined. If the batter was too thick, add buttermilk. Too thin, add cornmeal. When the skillet and grease were hot, pour the melted grease into the batter and stir two or three times. Dump the batter into the hot skillet and bake for 20 minutes.

But my job wasn’t finished. Making cornbread included washing the bowl and wooden spoon, and that didn’t mean, swish and rinse. It meant hand washing with detergent, rinsing, drying and putting away the bowl and spoon. That has stuck with me through these many decades. Occasionally, I rinse a cornbread bowl and stick it in the dishwasher and I see Mom’s smile. Her closed mouth grin and tilted head tells me, “You could wash it in a minute.”

When I was young, supper was the meal when Mom, Dad, my brother, and I sat down together. It was eating and visiting time. Mom taught me two tricks: always set the table before calling everyone to supper and always serve hot bread. A set table looks inviting and everyone knows a meal will be served. Oftentimes our table was set with placemats, plates, folded paper napkins, and utensils – a knife, spoon, and fork – by late afternoon. It was a promise of food and an expectation that all would gather and linger.

Even if the meal was leftovers, hot bread and butter whetted our appetites. Most often, it was cornbread or biscuits. But if Mom didn’t want to heat up the house with a hot oven on an August evening, she fried hoecakes in a black skillet. And sometimes, mostly for guests, she served store-bought brown and serve rolls.

Setting the table has stuck with me. Even when only Husband and I sit down together for supper, I like the table set. But, as much as I love hot bread and butter, I hate the added pounds so my mantra is always serve guests, especially my Grands’ families, hot bread. If not, I’m confident the whole meal would flop.

Wash the cornbread batter bowl, set the table, serve hot bread – simple habits ingrained in me. It’s not the once in a lifetime or once a year things we remember when our parents no longer stand beside us, it’s the daily things.

This Mother’s Day hug your mother and tell her thank you for what she does everyday.

 

 

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2 Responses

  1. ❤️. Happy Mother’s Day sweet friend!

    Kat Rust Bobkats@frontiernet.net

    >

    Like

  2. Thank you!

    Like

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