Memories of Mom

My Mom was born Mary Edith Phelps in Haskell, TX. Her birth date was December 17, 1927. She died on December 16, 1964. She was one day shy of 37 years old. In those years she had one marriage giving her three children. I was the first and only son with two sisters…Carolyn Eylene Gilleland (September 4, 1948) and Mary Jo Gilleland (March 14, 1963). She is buried in the Haskell cemetery with her mother (Grannie), her dad (Papa), her brother (Uncle Dud), sister-in-law (Aunt Shorty) and her sister (Aunt Lizzie).

I can remember things that happened when I was around 5 years old…anchored by which house we were living in. I can remember my mother vividly when she was around 25 years old and have a lot of little memory clips. I was probably influenced by her more than anyone else. As i look back I see that her short life was spread over more cultural changes than had occurred in many previous centuries. From early FDR to the murder of JFK…I am going to resist the desire to dwell on this…and instead focus on the memories.

Mom taught me to dance and would dance with me often. She enrolled me in “Beau’s & Belle’s” when I was about 11. It taught ballroom dancing and hosted a quarterly Ball in one of the downtown Abilene hotels. Bow tie, cummerbunds, white coat….as formal as it got in 50s west Texas. Foxtrot, Jitterbug, Waltz and of course Two-Step and later the Twist. Every time we would try to Tango we would both break out laughing…not a dance for a mother and son. On more than one occasion I was in the Roby Legion Hall during my Sophomore year dancing with the big girls. At least until I was asked to leave.

I played Little League baseball in the Abilene Dixie League. I was the catcher for the Thompson Drilling Company “Drillers”. In 1958 I made the end of the year All Star team and we won all tournaments up to the Regional Series in Corpus Christi. I was fortunate that there were a group of talented guys my age and together we made a pretty good team. Mom was a typical Little League mom. She was at every game and knew enough about the game to have an opinion when the calls went against me. I could pick her voice out of any crowd.

On one summer night after the “late game”…my mom told me to get in the car. Now normally both she and I would socialize after a game but this night was different. So after grousing about it I got into the back seat of our station wagon to find my Uncle Joe slumped down almost in the floor. He motioned me to be quite and I sat while we pulled out of the parking lot and headed over to Treadaway St. Now to explain who Uncle Joe was…My Grannie Phelps had a younger brother who was a “nar-do-well”. Treated like a favored child but then 40 years old…lets just say he never lived up to his potential…or really tried. The reason he was in our car was he was trying to avoid the law, who were looking for him, and my Dad who had no use for him. The soft spot my mother held for him caused her to do things really out of character for her. On this night we took him to the bus station and gave him all the money we could come up with and then agreed that no other family member (Dad) needed to know anything about this. To my knowledge…she and I and Uncle Joe were the only ones to share this particular memory. Then there was only me and now …. you.

Mom was extremely thin all her life. At 5′-8″ she rarely topped a hundred pounds. After “Baby Jo’s” birth the doctor told her she was anemic and in addition to some B-12 shots told her to drink a beer in the afternoon to increase her appetite. She did not like the taste of beer or the idea of drinking…but in the spirit of following the doctors orders…she would open a beer and take a sip. She would then leave the room and I would chug most of the beer. She would return and finish the sip left in the can. She considered that she had followed the doctor’s orders but I was the one with the appetite.

Mom always thought the best of everyone, especially me. She enabled me but also made me better by her expectations. One morning during the summer of 64 and after a night out with my buddies there was a beer cooler left in the trunk of my little grey Fairlane and it had turned over and spilled very cold water on the ground under my trunk. Mom noticed it came into the breakfast table and told me about it. Being the very quick thinking delinquent that I was, I said…”my radiator is leaking” to which she replied, with genuine concern “you really should get that seen about”. My Dad looked at me over the top of his paper and just shook his head.

Dad and I had a bunch of hogs we were feeding out in the fall and spring of 61-62. Thirty three head…weening pigs in the fall and finishing hogs late spring. I would regularly make trips to Hamlin and Pied Piper Feeds with my little 8′ trailer for hog feed. Now Mom had a brother “Uncle Roy” that lived in Hamlin and she would often go with me on my run. One day she found no one home at their house so went to the feed store with me and waited in the car while I bought and loaded feed. Now during that time 99% of all cars in west Texas were American made. Ford, Chevy, Buick, Cadillac, etc. The foreign car boom was yet to come. When I got into my car I noticed a Volkswagen sitting at the loading dock…one of the first I had ever seen. Mom was quite for most of the ride home but finally turned to me and said…”Yogi that man put a sack of feed on his motor. Why do you think he did that?” I almost had to pull over to keep from wreaking the car.

One final memory for this set happened during the school year in 1958 while we lived in Abilene at 2118 Jennette St. We were one half block from Bowie Elementary school and obviously walked every day. Me to my 6th grade class and Cricket to her 3rd. Jennette street was like any other street next to a school…busy at 8:00 and 3:30 and this morning was no exception. Mom had an old bathrobe that I think was Dads. Green and white checks with black stripes running at odd intervals. Ugly and well worn…but warm and her regular early morning attire. She was following me out the front door and on my case about something .. but all I heard was the Charlie Brown “wah..wah, wah wah wah” and my response seemed to infuriate her and she really got into my face about whatever it was. As is the case in a lot of my life, what I did next was without thought. I scooped her up in my arms and carried her to a goathead patch we had in the front yard and set her down in a clearing in the middle. I walked back to the porch and sat down. I watched for a little while as her friends passed by the house in their cars…some honking at us, others just looking puzzled. She yelled, then cried, then laughed and then started using her word….the “S” word. “Your a little S—” Your dad is gonna beat the S— outta you” and a number of other threats, all containing her word. The only curse word I ever heard her use. I knew that when the “S word” started to fly the fun was over, so I picked her up and carried her back to the porch where she acted like she was going to make good on her promises. But instead broke into laughter and we hugged and maybe danced a little. What a great day…I wish my kids knew her.