Remembering Perle
|
MARP Remembering Perle |
|
MARP Home
Resources
S O O P |
(Memories shared by a daughter, Mary Ann (Halteman) Conrad)
I wish I could bless every child on earth with my mother's love. I would not be surprised if right now she were gathering the babies of heaven in her lap — holding them, sewing clothes to make them pretty, singing and reading stories.
The mother we knew never forgot all. Her humor and spirit could still sparkle through in fleeting bubbles. To these I could cling and know that Mom's rooted soul had not left her. Even when she didn't know me, I could feel the two-year-old Perley that Great Aunt Mary used to tell me about over and over. "Oh, your mother was so sweet," she used to say. "When I helped over at Lizzie's I used to play hide and seek with your mother. 'Where's Perley?' I'd say, 'And Perle would hop out from behind wherever she was hiding — "Here see is!'"
I always liked that story, pushing my brain to its limits to imagine Mom a small child. In the past years, however, Mom became again that child. I've played hide and seek with Perley. The nurses at Rockhill (retirement community) were wonderful at finding Perley.
The truth is, Perle always had that strong-willed spunk and childlike joy of living. While Mom looked pretty much like any Mennonite Mama, she had an ornery side. She hated her cape of the 50's, jazzing it up with buttons and lace until she finally had the nerve to throw it. And although the men of the family say they never saw it, Mom danced in the kitchen. I have seen her white ankles in their gray garden shoes kicking the air under her print dress as she danced her own version of an Irish jig.
Mom's was a master word weaver. She loved words. She made up words. Her language was peppered with names and phrases from books she had read. She threatened to "put tin ears on us" or to "sell us down the river" if we didn't behave.
She recited poetry — "The Raggedy Man" and "The Night Before Christmas." She sang songs to us from her school days — "Darling Clementine" and "Way Down Upon the Swanee River." She read through fairy tale anthologies and Herbalt's Bible Story Book. And speaking of the Bible, there were some stories in that book that she did not approve of — the sacrifice of Isaac, the killing of the babies in Rama .... Oh, she believed in God and Daddy, but she was not afraid to challenge both.
The other thing my mom believed in was her children and grandchildren. She filled the attic with our schoolwork and letters. She sat up late to proofread my high school term paper. She believed it was the best one since Jim's six years earlier. She praised teachers if they praised us. Those who didn't, she smiled at politely and put into their place when she got home.
Mom's ever-living connection to us as we grew up continued in her weekly letters. As word weaver and word revealer she should be remembered. Her unpious faith, her love of the word, blessed all those she drew under her clucking wings.
|