another Mother's Day honoring

Mildred


born on a working farm
at the top of one of many of Kentucky’s rich rolling hills,
good soil + hard work = a hard-won living,
and she learned the skills to make a home simply elegant
and how to hold together the family that could so easily fly apart,

the farm girl and homemaker
couldn’t stay down in the country,
she followed her sister and rode her horse to the city for school
and her mind opened as wide
as Kentucky’s sky can be blue,

and she traveled the world in her mind
and she opened herself beyond what is custom
to what is right by the light of her own judgement,
and sometimes her husband’s vote and hers cancelled out,
and she loved to dance her heart away
and to use the dance of cards as a social center,
and to teach her grandchildren probability,

a job at the bank
and no door opened to college--
neither was money available
nor did the culture encourage her,
not even one so very very bright,

and she fell into love and marriage with a dashing young doctor
who she grounded with her common sense
and built the house for him, for her,
and for three extraordinary daughters
who were blessed with her intellect and his
and who mirror his love and hers,

and there in the city she taught herself to sew and to cook,
and her flower and vegetable gardens were a sight to behold,
and she knew to start the water before the corn was even picked,


a populist streak to her politics
and an unwillingness to suffer any fool gladly,

that well-read openness of mind
paralleled by an openness to new foods,
she was “curry” when “curry” wasn’t cool,
tradition equally important to newness:
1 cup of coffee, then it warmed, to start the day,
plus a small glass of orange juice,
half a Coke to keep the morning going,
Sunday dinner must be fried chicken,
steaks and french fries Saturday night,
an elegant supper club and bridge club for decades,
a jar of fresh chocolate chip cookies by the door,
baked two year-old country ham at Christmas,
hopefully with white flecks,
her spaghetti and sauce a comfort food for her kids,
bread and butter pickles, strawberry preserves,
the quality and bounty of her table a constant,

a love of Jeopardy, crossword puzzles, and double crostics,
of thinking hard and clean,
a stubbornness to hold fast and true, to persevere,
a measured life, with rules and routine to keep one steady,
while inside her head and heart soared beyond measure,
fairness deep in her soul and moderation in all things,
except for love,

the only thing that could match her love for children and grandchildren
was their love for her,

Ah, Mildred, you soared with your life,
and all of us can only hope to do so well.

by Henry Walker
December 28, 2003