MAMMO
My family and friends moan to me when, in September, I begin playing my Christmas CD’s. I just smile and tell them that I love Christmas. I do love the season and always seem to push it up earlier in the calendar each year but few except those closest to me know why.
Mammo loved Christmas and I loved her so deeply that gratitude for having her in my life and sadness for the absence of her now, wells up within me every time she crosses my mind and my heart. At the age of forty, I know that I’ve never known anyone like her and am certain that I shall know none like her throughout the rest of my life. No one loved her family and their presence more than Mammo. Christmas represented this to her, I think. As a testament to her love of family and their love for her, her three children lived within fifty miles of her to the day of her death.
Christmas always included trips to Mammo’s on Christmas Day and time spent with her on Christmas Eve. Early to mid December found all under the Kerr name informed about her tree and encouraged to come by and see it. I remember from my early years always a beautifully flocked Christmas tree that boasted many presents for the entire family – there were those from Mammo and Paw Paw and then those that Paw Paw would buy “himself”. In my younger years, those Christmases included homemade doughnuts, the absolute best peanut butter fudge ever and lots of warmth and love. Any self-respecting descendent of the Kerr family should be able to relate that Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” was her favorite Christmas recording. However, she always preferred to hear Uncle Pat and Uncle Denny and even my mother harmonize on any Christmas song with guitar accompaniment.
In the years after Paw Paw died, I think Christmas was a bittersweet time for Mammo. She loved Paw Paw so and missed him, during the holidays especially. However, she was blessed she would be the first to tell anyone, with wonderful, loyal friends and family. Kay Melton, Theda Bailey, Betty Ghorline, the hospital auxiliary and its Christmas Bazaar and gift shop, and keeping up with her kids and grandkids occupied her plans for the holidays and the rest of the year as well. As the years passed, it seemed to me, her Christmas tree became smaller, maybe it didn’t really but I thought it did. I don’t know why necessarily. I think maybe because it was the best she could do. Unlike many older people who find themselves alone after years of marriage and rearing their family, she didn’t stop celebrating and didn’t stop living; she just determined that it was okay to do just what she could, during Christmas time and at other times too.
I remember one of the last Christmases we had Mammo. I was grown with my own children. We had stopped going home to Kentucky for Christmas so our kids could celebrate Christmas in our own home. However, we always tried to come in sometime around the holidays. I recall taking Mammo Christmas shopping – on her very limited budget, she had little to spend on decorations or gifts. But when I arrived at her small duplex to take her, her little Christmas tree stood straight and pretty and she was very proud of it. I think Mammo’s Christmas trees were always the prettiest, regardless of their size. She always had a “color-scheme”, well planned out ahead of time so that her trees were color coordinated! We then went shopping and I remember thinking that she had planned and considered so thoroughly what every family member would enjoy for a gift. I’m sure I speak for all of my relatives when I say that it never mattered to me what Mammo gave because I always knew love and consideration were the biggest and best part of her presents.
There was never a time that we didn’t feel welcome at Mammo’s house. Iced tea (instant though it might be) flowed freely – coffee for the grown ups in the mornings. Things I remember about Mammo’s house from my early youth were Pop-tarts, Frosted Mini-Wheats, toasted peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and Paw Paw’s fried pork tenderloin. Mammo loved her fritoes, ice cream, and bananas; crackers in milk were a delicacy that I believed all people enjoyed – ha! Little did I know! I remember the smell of Downy on her sheets, thin towels and washcloths, and her perfume, Toujours Moi. I remember she never had a pencil sharpener but sharpened pencils with a knife! I remember my sister and me eating frosted flakes on Saturday nights in Mammo and Paw Paw’s bedroom, watching television while the adults played cards. Some of my best memories are of spending the night with Mammo and Paw Paw and trying my best to sleep through the snoring! I also remember Mammo going about her activities around her house with a silent whistle that was endearing, if not lacking in melody. I remember going to the G and O for doughnuts with Mammo and going to St. Thomas Moore or St. Francis mass on Sunday mornings. I remember when I was very, very little going to the old Holiday Inn restaurant after church for brunch sometimes with them.
I remember that if Mammo had a can of gold spray paint, we’d better take cover! And we could never get overly attached to any furniture grouping in her house because it could and would be rearranged at the drop of a hat. I recall that I used to love hearing her tell stories of her childhood with her brothers and sister. There was a particular story that I would ask that she tell me again and again that always ended with Mammo head-down in the mud in a pond.
I remember exactly the way Mammo said, “Hello” when she answered the phone on the second ring – always. We used to tease her about it. I remember, when I was very young, their house on Mimosa Drive and the flower shed where she worked on her hobby, flower arrangements. She was so talented. I remember that she always found some go-together outfit on sale or would sew a really smart ensemble for any event she had coming up. She would show those outfits to me with such excitement. I remember her little on and off switch for her television – it was a pre-historic remote control! I remember watching “Carson” with her (didn’t call it the “Tonight Show”) and that she could not stand “Leno” when he took over. And God forbid anyone be talking or moving about when the weather report came on!
Mammo was always there; could always be counted upon to lend unconditional love and support. She loved her family in the most pure fashion – always forgiving of anyone going too long without calling or visiting, never failing to be a part of each of our lives whenever wanted or needed; always appreciative of anything any of us did for her. She believed her children, their spouses and their children were the best at whatever they did. I’ve often told my children that everyone should have someone in their lives like Mammo. She was my biggest fan. She was the person I always wanted to call when something happened to me up until the day she died. I still, five years after her death, find myself going to the telephone to call her. She never failed to encourage and never failed to communicate love and acceptance.
There are so many, many memories of my Mammo – all good – I haven’t kept one bad memory, because I really don’t think I ever had any. I know that before she died, when I’d hear someone say they’d lost a grandparent, I would express sorrow but never really thought about it being as bad as losing a more immediate family member. Now that Mammo is gone, I know better.
In the 1990’s there was a Christian slogan that caught on and spread throughout the secular world. It was a great slogan, encouraging everyone to reflect “What would Jesus do?” While I probably don’t ask myself that enough before I act these days, I do find myself thinking sometimes, “What would Mammo say or do?” I don’t think God minds that. I think when Mammo died and got to heaven he hugged her and said I love you and she probably felt the same joy and peace that I always felt when she gave me those same words and that same hug.
I miss her so much.
My family and friends moan to me when, in September, I begin playing my Christmas CD’s. I just smile and tell them that I love Christmas. I do love the season and always seem to push it up earlier in the calendar each year but few except those closest to me know why.
Mammo loved Christmas and I loved her so deeply that gratitude for having her in my life and sadness for the absence of her now, wells up within me every time she crosses my mind and my heart. At the age of forty, I know that I’ve never known anyone like her and am certain that I shall know none like her throughout the rest of my life. No one loved her family and their presence more than Mammo. Christmas represented this to her, I think. As a testament to her love of family and their love for her, her three children lived within fifty miles of her to the day of her death.
Christmas always included trips to Mammo’s on Christmas Day and time spent with her on Christmas Eve. Early to mid December found all under the Kerr name informed about her tree and encouraged to come by and see it. I remember from my early years always a beautifully flocked Christmas tree that boasted many presents for the entire family – there were those from Mammo and Paw Paw and then those that Paw Paw would buy “himself”. In my younger years, those Christmases included homemade doughnuts, the absolute best peanut butter fudge ever and lots of warmth and love. Any self-respecting descendent of the Kerr family should be able to relate that Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” was her favorite Christmas recording. However, she always preferred to hear Uncle Pat and Uncle Denny and even my mother harmonize on any Christmas song with guitar accompaniment.
In the years after Paw Paw died, I think Christmas was a bittersweet time for Mammo. She loved Paw Paw so and missed him, during the holidays especially. However, she was blessed she would be the first to tell anyone, with wonderful, loyal friends and family. Kay Melton, Theda Bailey, Betty Ghorline, the hospital auxiliary and its Christmas Bazaar and gift shop, and keeping up with her kids and grandkids occupied her plans for the holidays and the rest of the year as well. As the years passed, it seemed to me, her Christmas tree became smaller, maybe it didn’t really but I thought it did. I don’t know why necessarily. I think maybe because it was the best she could do. Unlike many older people who find themselves alone after years of marriage and rearing their family, she didn’t stop celebrating and didn’t stop living; she just determined that it was okay to do just what she could, during Christmas time and at other times too.
I remember one of the last Christmases we had Mammo. I was grown with my own children. We had stopped going home to Kentucky for Christmas so our kids could celebrate Christmas in our own home. However, we always tried to come in sometime around the holidays. I recall taking Mammo Christmas shopping – on her very limited budget, she had little to spend on decorations or gifts. But when I arrived at her small duplex to take her, her little Christmas tree stood straight and pretty and she was very proud of it. I think Mammo’s Christmas trees were always the prettiest, regardless of their size. She always had a “color-scheme”, well planned out ahead of time so that her trees were color coordinated! We then went shopping and I remember thinking that she had planned and considered so thoroughly what every family member would enjoy for a gift. I’m sure I speak for all of my relatives when I say that it never mattered to me what Mammo gave because I always knew love and consideration were the biggest and best part of her presents.
There was never a time that we didn’t feel welcome at Mammo’s house. Iced tea (instant though it might be) flowed freely – coffee for the grown ups in the mornings. Things I remember about Mammo’s house from my early youth were Pop-tarts, Frosted Mini-Wheats, toasted peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and Paw Paw’s fried pork tenderloin. Mammo loved her fritoes, ice cream, and bananas; crackers in milk were a delicacy that I believed all people enjoyed – ha! Little did I know! I remember the smell of Downy on her sheets, thin towels and washcloths, and her perfume, Toujours Moi. I remember she never had a pencil sharpener but sharpened pencils with a knife! I remember my sister and me eating frosted flakes on Saturday nights in Mammo and Paw Paw’s bedroom, watching television while the adults played cards. Some of my best memories are of spending the night with Mammo and Paw Paw and trying my best to sleep through the snoring! I also remember Mammo going about her activities around her house with a silent whistle that was endearing, if not lacking in melody. I remember going to the G and O for doughnuts with Mammo and going to St. Thomas Moore or St. Francis mass on Sunday mornings. I remember when I was very, very little going to the old Holiday Inn restaurant after church for brunch sometimes with them.
I remember that if Mammo had a can of gold spray paint, we’d better take cover! And we could never get overly attached to any furniture grouping in her house because it could and would be rearranged at the drop of a hat. I recall that I used to love hearing her tell stories of her childhood with her brothers and sister. There was a particular story that I would ask that she tell me again and again that always ended with Mammo head-down in the mud in a pond.
I remember exactly the way Mammo said, “Hello” when she answered the phone on the second ring – always. We used to tease her about it. I remember, when I was very young, their house on Mimosa Drive and the flower shed where she worked on her hobby, flower arrangements. She was so talented. I remember that she always found some go-together outfit on sale or would sew a really smart ensemble for any event she had coming up. She would show those outfits to me with such excitement. I remember her little on and off switch for her television – it was a pre-historic remote control! I remember watching “Carson” with her (didn’t call it the “Tonight Show”) and that she could not stand “Leno” when he took over. And God forbid anyone be talking or moving about when the weather report came on!
Mammo was always there; could always be counted upon to lend unconditional love and support. She loved her family in the most pure fashion – always forgiving of anyone going too long without calling or visiting, never failing to be a part of each of our lives whenever wanted or needed; always appreciative of anything any of us did for her. She believed her children, their spouses and their children were the best at whatever they did. I’ve often told my children that everyone should have someone in their lives like Mammo. She was my biggest fan. She was the person I always wanted to call when something happened to me up until the day she died. I still, five years after her death, find myself going to the telephone to call her. She never failed to encourage and never failed to communicate love and acceptance.
There are so many, many memories of my Mammo – all good – I haven’t kept one bad memory, because I really don’t think I ever had any. I know that before she died, when I’d hear someone say they’d lost a grandparent, I would express sorrow but never really thought about it being as bad as losing a more immediate family member. Now that Mammo is gone, I know better.
In the 1990’s there was a Christian slogan that caught on and spread throughout the secular world. It was a great slogan, encouraging everyone to reflect “What would Jesus do?” While I probably don’t ask myself that enough before I act these days, I do find myself thinking sometimes, “What would Mammo say or do?” I don’t think God minds that. I think when Mammo died and got to heaven he hugged her and said I love you and she probably felt the same joy and peace that I always felt when she gave me those same words and that same hug.
I miss her so much.
