Wednesday, April 22, 2020

Thinking About Mom

 Funny how I’ve been thinking about my mom lately, and my daughter, out of the blue, said the other day, “I’ve been thinking about Grandma and wondering what she would think of this pandemic.”.

Yup, that’s exactly why I’ve been thinking about her.

During her last couple of years, she didn’t get out a whole lot, only to my house for any holidays and get-togethers, to church sometimes, to Ladies Aid at church when she could get out. Gosh, I can’t remember when she gave up driving, but it had to be a few years before she died. My brother did most of her grocery shopping and I’d pick up anything else she needed or help her order clothes from a catalog.

She would handle being quarantined just fine. As long as she had her phone. Though she has been gone for over three years, sometimes, when my phone rings around suppertime, I think it must be Mom checking in.

I am sure though that she would have a lot to say about this pandemic, that she’d seen worse – born two years before the Great Depression, she lived through World War II and all the wars since then, as well as how many recessions and all sorts of upheaval.

She could be so cute. She told me a couple times how she was at a youth meeting at church one time (that had to be in the mid-nineteen-forties), when the pastor was talking about some weed that young people were smoking and that it messed with your mind. Mom was like, “I’m sure he was talking about pot and now look what it’s done to our society.” (I don’t mention that story to go into my opinion on marijuana, I just brought it up as an example of how cute Mom could be at times.)
I think her advice during the COVID19 outbreak would be that people need to keep their heads on straight, think about people other than themselves, listen to the news and your health care providers and to those running the government but to make your own decisions how to deal with it.

Her heart would go out to struggling small businesses and all the people who lost their jobs. She’d have me bring her a fish fry every Friday night to support the local restaurants. I’d leave it at her door and then back down the hall six feet until she came out and picked it up. She’d be sewing face masks like a fiend. I’d probably pick them up at her door when I dropped off her fish fry.

But at the end of the day, when she called me as I was eating supper, she would say, “It’s all in God’s hands, but I’m gonna just stay home.” 




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