A Teacher at Heart
Mom – Margaret Mary Raftery Smith - had been a schoolteacher before she married my dad. She taught in one-room schoolhouses in the 1920’s after getting her certificate from the teacher’s college in Normal IL. I mention this because of her love of learning and teaching.
Her teaching instincts produced in us kids a rich appreciation of reading and for literature in general. She was always reading to us and enjoyed a good story, be it mystery, or humor, or action and adventure. The books she read to us were varied, as were the serials from the St. Louis Livestock Reporter that we enjoyed many nights. No TV in those days.
She had a great many sayings that she had collected from her own reading as a student and teacher, and I supposed at the time from her own experience: Birds of a feather flock together… you are known by the company you keep… nothing ventured nothing gained… better to have loved and lost that never have loved at all…if you can’t say something good, don’t say anything at all…honey draws more flies than vinegar… actions speak louder than words… never judge a book by its cover…” These sayings were usually dismissed with an exasperated “Oh, Mom!” when we were in high school, but her sayings come back as whispers that helped form my conscience and beliefs today.
Songs and Faith
Some of Mom’s favorite songs that she would sing included: “My Blue Heaven”, “In the Shade of the old Apple Tree”, “There’ll be Bluebirds over the White Cliffs of Dover”; “You are my Sunshine”, “Marzy Dotes and Dozy Dotes”, “School Days”, “and Oh, Johnny, Oh”.
Mom took her faith seriously; I don’t mean that she was overly pious, but she always believed that faith was a gift that could be lost if not nurtured. So, on cold winter nights before bedtime, we often said the rosary together as a family. We always attended Mass on Sunday. She looked at life through the lenses of her faith. Things happened for a purpose; God cared about each hair on your head. Devotions, - worship of God, and celebrations of Christmas and Easter - were joyous occasions; there was beauty all around you if you looked for it.
The Kitchen, Garden and Back Yard
My memory places Mom in the kitchen, the garden, and the back yard most of the time. Gardening, canning peaches and home-made jellies and jams, picking strawberries from the garden and blackberries in the several patches around the farm defined the role of a mid-20th century farm wife. That mode of life has disappeared from the modern farm environment of today.
She had moments of anger and frustration and impatience and disappointment, but she always accepted her role in the everyday events of life. When we were sick, she was there. If my dad was discouraged, she was there to listen to him. Mom and Dad’s time together was early in the morning before we children woke up. I would find them talking quietly together sometimes when, for some reason, I might wake early.
The New House
I only remember one time that her anger really created a pall over the house for about a week. It had to have been in the spring of 1947, and Dad kept talking about plans for their new house he was going to have built. Days went by with more plans being talked about by Dad, but no action. Finally, Mom had had enough of the talk about building plans and said in no uncertain terms that she was tired of it and didn’t want to hear any more talk about a house; it was time to do something, or never bring it up again. Dad was hurt and angry for the next week and hardly said a word to her or any of us. It was a very frightening and totally different sort of strained atmosphere than any we had ever experienced. Our world had a scary insecurity about it as they went through this interval of hurt and anger. We kids could not help but feel the tension in the air and felt the fear that many of today’s children must feel when families come apart.
Letters and Love
I was fortunate to have been away at college at a time when letter writing was still the primary mode of communication. Despite our new house’s amenities, we did not have a telephone until the late 1950’s after I had left for college, so Mom and I exchanged many letters. I have almost a complete set of Mom’s letters from the time I left home until the 1960’s after Jan and I were married.
It’s not easy to write about anything very personal between Mom and me; I always felt that she displayed love by her questions, comments, and actions, but never specifically voiced love. As a family we did not do “I love you” declarations, or hugging, or displays of affection. I knew she was very proud of me and loved me.