Posted on May 24, 2018 under Thursday Tidbits with one comment

 

Pearls of wisdom.

With shocking regularity, we are witnessing the end of an era as many well-known Antigonish area women have completed their earthly toil. And oh, how they toiled.

I wasn’t the only one thinking about mothers last week when I wrote about my mom’s death. Besides words of comfort, many of you took the time to speak about your own mothers, many praising them effusively. I have culled some of your comments to give you a flavour of what came across my computer.

“I was also blessed with a warm and caring mom and was lucky that I could sit beside her bed when she died, nine days before her 100^th birthday. But mothers like that never really leave you. They stay with you as long as you live. So, in a sense, they never die but live on in our memories and stay with us all of our lives.”

Someone chose a nautical metaphor. A ship leaves the harbor under full sail. “I stand and watch her at length until she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other. Then someone at my side says: “There, she is gone!” “Gone where?” “Gone from my sight.” The ship disappears over the horizon but it hasn’t gone forever. We just can’t see it. It’s sort of like losing a loved one. We can’t see them but we know they’re with us. They’re just beyond the horizon.

The next one struck me hard as well. Why is it that mothers are revered and often there is nary a mention of our fathers? “On reading the tribute to your mom, I couldn’t help thinking this too sounds so much like my mom, ladies of a generation who despite all that may have been hard, their character, grace, humour, and prayerful gratitude, made them such unique mamas. Sometimes I’ll offer a silent apology to dad (who died some time ago) that he doesn’t jump into my thoughts the way mom does.”

The past week brought about a lot of reminiscing. If you’re over 65, take a look at this list and put a check mark beside everyone you recognize:

Hot poultices for boils; Lestoil; cod liver oil pills; sunlight soap; iron on patches on the knees of blue jeans; 30 pound turkey in the oven at Christmas; cardboard boxes of meat from John D’s Meat Market; shoes lined up on newspaper the night before mass and polished with Scuff Coat; rinso; starlac; margarine with a belly button; choco; Perry Como; JFK; cherry blossoms; the electric hot plate on the floor with Friar’s balsam simmering away in a steel pot; sifting bugs out of the flour bin; Radio brand green peas; Lenten decades of the rosary; Lowney’s pail of hard candy that would stick together inside your Christmas stocking; the diaper pail; the wringer washer; Vince the milkman; Angus “the beard”; three digit telephone number; having a diaper wrapped around your neck with over a healthy dose of Vick’s vapo rub to ease the pain in your throat.

This is just a partial list.

So there, not a single creative thought from me. I stole all these things from you.

I’ll leave you with this quote from Mark Twain that was sent to me as well:

“My mother had a slender, small body but a large heart; a heart so large that everybody’s joys found welcome in it, and hospitable accommodation.”

Have a great weekend.

 

 

Posted on May 21, 2018 under Monday Morning Musings with 5 comments

The one and only “Mother T.”

 

A postscript to our mother’s passing.

First of all, on behalf of the MacDonald family let me say thank you for the outpouring of messages of support for our family on the death of our mother. It is not possible to respond to everyone who sent condolences as they numbered in the hundreds. For those who may have missed it, her wake will be held on June 20^th and the funeral on June 21^st.

While each and every message was read with gratitude, the comments from her grandchildren resonated the most with me. They reminded me about the things in life that really matter, like gestures of kindness and support when things aren’t going quite right. They spoke eloquently of her zest for life and her no nonsense attitude. Most of them have inherited that attitude! They also adopted her compassionate nature for those marginalized and disenfranchised. Most of them have been blessed with her keen sense of humour. From reading their accounts, one realizes that seemingly insignificant gestures are often remembered for decades by young, developing brains.

As I said in my tribute piece last Friday, she was not only a perfect role model for her own children but also for her grandchildren and great grandchildren.

I know when I was in business, I always used mom as my yardstick and moral compass. Occasionally, when I would be in some kind of dilemma, I would say to myself, “what would mom do?” And now, not four days since her death, I find myself asking the same question and I reckon that this will be the case until I draw my last breath.

I also want to say a special thank you to my brothers and sisters. Families are complicated. That may be the understatement of the year. I can see you nodding your heads collectively. To be certain, our family, no family really, gets it right 100% of the time. Last week was very difficult watching mom complete her earthly journey. I was impressed that all my siblings were supportive and caring. Nerves can get frayed in these situations. I believe that mom would have been so pleased and proud that we sang, ate, laughed, and prayed together. We were afraid to act otherwise! While she is no longer with us, she’s still the boss.

Here’s my last word on life and death. I don’t know to whom this quote is attributed but it speaks volumes about mom and people like her. “I am not afraid to die. I am afraid of not living.” Don’t be afraid to live. Put the pedal to the metal. Mom did when she go carted at age 90!

YUMM. You won’t have the foggiest idea what I’m going to talk about so go and check out my most recent Thursday Tidbits. Some of you took a stab at the acronym but no one got it right. Your Unique Musical Memory (YUMM) is a new musical video service that Peter and I plan to launch in the fall.

More on this in future posts.

Hope you’re having a restful holiday weekend.

Posted on May 17, 2018 under Storytelling with 36 comments

Teresa P.D. MacDonald 1925-2018

 

Mom was really a remarkable woman.

She was like so many of her peers who raised large families with none of the modern conveniences, available today. How they managed to do this is jaw dropping. There was always a baby in cloth diapers. Bread was rising on the radiators before anyone was awake and the first of several loads of laundry was well in hand. Getting kids out of bed and off to school was done with regimental precision, particularly the bathroom. Each child was given exactly seven minutes to do whatever was necessary.

With all of the children out of the house and fathers off to work, which was the norm in those days, the baking started in earnest. The bread was put in the oven followed by pies, cookies and cakes. How disheartening it must have been when the hordes arrived home to devour a morning’s work in seconds. This was repeated daily. The wash was done by hand. I can still see the wringer washer in the middle of the living room floor. When the laundry was done, invariably one of the smaller kids was deposited in the washer and wheeled around the room. Cheap entertainment.

They worked from dawn to dusk 365 days a year, 366 in leap years. They said the rosary, went to church, bought groceries, read books, applied bandages, and looked after us when we were sick. Super women. We will never see another generation like them again. These were legendary women.

Mom was all of this and more. After our dad died at a young age in 1977, she took her considerable organizational talents as the chief lieutenant of 39 Hillcrest Street and entered the workforce. She managed several businesses and eventually took the reins of the Antigonish Town and County Home Care, assisting area seniors in a myriad of ways. No request went unfilled and it was not uncommon for her to get a call late at night from someone in need. She’d drop everything she was doing to make sure that they received the help they needed.

She also expended some of her incredible energy volunteering. She had a soft spot for the poor and in her later years, helped out on a regular basis with the Food Bank and St.Vincent de Paul. She took her volunteering role very seriously and made sure that all of us adopted her ethos.

She taught us so much, not by words but by her actions. She never took shortcuts or the easy route. “Finish what you start,” was one of her mantras. She also taught us about the importance of punctuality. “Show up on time. It is a sign of respect.” I know when one of my brothers and sisters says to meet them at a particular time of day, you know they’ll be there.

“Say please and thank you.”

Her energy and passion for life was breathtaking. She loved new challenges and was never afraid to tackle anything. Perhaps her only regret is that she didn’t get to go zip lining or parachuting. She did, however, jump in a go kart at age 90.

She loved music. It was the first thing she likely heard when she was born and it was the last thing she heard before taking her leave late this afternoon. We gathered around her bed and sang a few of her favourites in four part harmony. Even with failing health, she could go to the piano and play all those wonderful war era songs from memory. We see the musical talents of Teresa and P.D. in our children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. That is, in itself, a treasured legacy.

But most of all, she loved her children. Make no mistake, we were a handful and I’m sure there were many days that she would have traded us for a sack of potatoes.

We will miss her common sense, her steady hand, her great sense of humour and her compassion for the underdog.

Mother T, we love you and will miss you terribly. Thank you for being you. You were a force of nature.

We couldn’t have had a better role model.

“Farewell to thee but not farewell,

To all my fondest thoughts of thee,

Within my heart they still shall dwell,

And they shall cheer and comfort me.”

Anne Bronte