A Glimpse at Mama From The Eyes Of Her Youngest
It's been more than forty years since she died, so my memories about mama are pretty sketchy. I can truly only recall little things about her. Most of the things I remember about mama are her reactions to me rather than the other way around. For example, I remember coming home from wherever the family had bee one cold, cold night. Somebody started a fire in the stove and it was bedtime. I removed my coat, but I sat on the bed like a little princess waiting for somebody to undress me. Somehow I was undressed and left with just a thin, cotton slip. I curled up in bed, but did not bother to cover myself, though I was freezing. Mama turned to me and asked why I hadn't pulled the blankets over me. When I told her that I was waiting for her to do that, she laughed and quickly and warmly tucked me in. That must have done the job because I don't remember any more conversation. When the "big kids" went off to school I had mama all be myself. My most special memories were about our walks in the woods. I have a Christmas CD that was recorded in the New England States. The sounds of a horse-drawn wagon with the horse snorting and walking can be heard in the background. Once in a while a crow caws. Everyone in my house gets tired of this tape because I play it almost every Saturday morning. I love this music because it reminds me of fall morning walks with mama. Because she was overweight, it was difficult for her to keep up with me. I would run ahead, jump over fallen trees, run around the bend in the road while she trudged along. She frequently called to me to slow down, wait up, watch out for snakes. She always threatened to turn around and go back home it I ran around that bend where she couldn't see me. The only thing that slowed me down was when she said that there might be gypsies further down the road. I don't recall ever going further, but would turn around and go back to her. One thing I always remember was a tree stump where she would "sit and blow" as she said. While I kicked up leaves, picked wild flowers and did whatever else my little child mind did for entertainment. We always held hands as we left the woods
I always thought my mama was pretty. She wore pants most of the time, but she had a purple silk dress that was to die for. We could hear her walking through the house as it made that swish, swish sound. It had two deep pockets on the skirt and I told her that I was going to have a purple dress when I grew up. I love my purple dress. I think about how pretty mama was in hers every time I wear mine.
Mama had a way of holding me that made me think everything was going to be all right. Women today are bothered by the size of their arms. But I felt loved and protected by the size of mama's arms as she comforted me and told me I was her baby (her last pea in the pod) and that even if she died or I lived to be a hundred, I would still be her baby. Everyone who knows me knows how much I love boasting about being my mama's baby.
Though she criticized others for making mistakes, especially in the kitchen, I remember a mistake that she made that she tried to coax me into not sharing with the big kids who had been in school all day. Mama usually baked cakes on Sunday, but this particular school day she decided to bake one to have in the middle of the week. Though I hated work, I stayed with her (most of the time) as she creamed the butter and added all the other ingredients. She had already poured the mix into the baking pans when I decided to taste the batter. Something was definitely missing. So I asked" mama, what kind of cake do you call this?" That question confused her, but I remember her chuckling and asking what I meant. I told her to taste it for herself. She realized she had left out the sugar. She laughed at herself and told me we were going to eat it anyway, but she told me not to tell anyone what she had done. I didn't really understand the problem so I started to tease her. I picked on her until the cake was done. I pestered her about letting me have a taste of the cake. I remember saying, "Hum, this is pretty good sweet bread." She thought that was a rather funny expression for a child my size, so we laughed about is some more. She was still trying to convince me that nobody else needed to know. Well, it didn't work because I remember running down the road to meet the school bus to tell everyone that mama had made sweet bread instead of a cake for dessert.
Though she lacked an education, she shared some knowledge that I still value to this day. She would promise not to punish me if I told the truth. As a result, I value truth. She would say, "Lord Have Mercy" when you don't know how to pray. How many time have I said that simple prayer when things seem out of control. She was right. He sets everything back on track with a prayer such as "Lord Have Mercy". Mama would use pond's cold cream. As she rubbed it onto her face, she said "put it on and rub it from the neck upward so that you won't get wrinkles. Beauticians today would agree that is the right motion. Mama even knew something about the end of times. She often said that in the last days people would be smarter, but weaker. She talked about technology that we have that has only come into our world in the last ten to fifteen years. She talked about the earth being destroyed not by
water again, but by fire. She talked about Jesus coming again and that he would be like a thief in the night. Those were powerful words to my little ears. They still are today.
When she was sad, mama would sing. She had a very strong and pretty voice. I think that Pauline's daughter Vicki must have inherited that voice. Mama's voice was so loud, we often thought the radio was playing. She would tilt her head to one side and look heavenward as she sang as if she was singing to God. Pauline used to tilt her head as she sang. Mama's mouth always looked like a perfect heart as she made her music. Several of her granddaughters have pretty lips including my daughter Laurel, whose lips form perfect hearts with certain words. Mama has been gone a long time, but there are many glimpses of her in the children and grandchildren created through her. We just need to remind those grandchildren and great grandchildren who never knew that they favor Ella French Marshall when they make certain gestures that are precious to us. Those gestures enable us to have just one more glimpse of Mama.
Written By
Sadie Marshall Donalson
