A Tribute to My Mother by My Sister

I was not going to write anything about Mother's Day; but as the day went on, I found myself thinking about my mother and what she might have been like. I didn't get the opportunity to know her -- she died of a blood clot that went to her lungs the month after I turned five. The only things I know are the anecdotes passed on by my brothers and sisters.

I thought I would like to share with you this tribute to my mother written by my oldest sister:

"I would like to add a little personal note about our mother, Ellen Murdock Patten.
Mom was a fun-loving individual – remember the parties for us and all the neighboring kids? On a Saturday night, or holidays, all the kids would come to our house because Mom enjoyed frying chicken and making salads and cake. We would sit around the dining room table and play games and eat.

"I cannot ever remember our mother not being there for us when we got home from school. She was always there at night, hardly ever leaving us alone. Mother never went anywhere to speak of unless she took all of us with her. Every holiday she always made us new clothes – dresses for the girls, shirts and sometimes jackets for the boys. For Valentine’s day she would spend a day or two making different kinds of candy and making Valentine Candy boxes for us, which Dad would then take out at night on Valentines and leave them on the door step, knocking at the door and running – a treasured treat.

"I cannot remember ever of having to cook a meal for the family in her stead, we mainly learned by watching. We did have to help with the housework, and outside chores.

"Mother was always happy with what Dad provided for her and never complained – though I think she would have been happier with indoor plumbing.

"Mother never seemed to complain about anything, she was always cheerful and full of song. This song, or poem, she carried in her purse during World War II, and would pull it out and read it to anyone who claimed they hadn’t heard it:

The Sonna The Beach

I sella da fish and I sella da crab
I notta so goot and I notta so bad
I live on the shore var da eagle he screech
I be Dago Peroni a sonna da beach

Dey say to me Toni vy for you stay here
You maak a more mon if you sella da beer
And I say to dem, Toni no want to be reech
He rather be chust a poor sonna da beach

One day I hear two feller talk on da sand
Bout a feller call Adolph – a big Nazi man
I no hear so goot what de say in da speech
But it sound like he to be a sonna da beach

Now I don’t think he be feller like me
Cause he don’t live here on the beach by the sea.
So as I think dat maybe heem and me each
Be two different kinda of a sonna the beach.

I chust Dago Peroni and dam glad I am
I glad I not what you call beeg Nazi Man
Cause when I die and when heaven I reach
Dey vill say “Come een Toni, you Sonna Da Beach."

May Day

May Day is Lei Day in Hawaii
Garlands of flowers everywhere
All of the colors in the rainbow
Maidens with blossoms in their hair

Flowers that mean we should be happy
Throwing aside a load of care
Oh, May Day is Lei Day in Hawaii
May Day is happy days out there
(by Leonard Hawk)

In 1949, when I was in the second grade the entire school rehearsed for weeks for the May Day program. That year's extravaganza was "May Day in Hawaii." We learned the song: May Day is Lei Day in Hawaii, and we made beautiful tissue paper leis -- not just a tissue flower here and then 4 inches further on, another; but full thick ruffly leis -- to my 7-year-old heart and eyes, they were beautiful. On the night of the performance (which was in the church nearby because our school did not have a rec hall) the stage was decorated exquisitely to resemble a tropical island. When I came on stage, wearing my beautiful lei, with the full cast (all the students in the school) to sing the song, I was in awe of the beauty of the night, and I knew there was no place on earth I would rather see than beautiful Hawaii.

Over the years I jokingly told people, when I die, don't look around the room, hoping to see my spirit lingering over my casket -- I'll be in Hawaii! There was no way I would ever be able to go to Hawaii.

But In 1986, my husband surprised me with a trip to Hawaii! I couldn't believe I was finally going to my dream island -- and I wasn't even dead!

When we got off the plane, we were presented with beautiful leis of perfumed flowers. We snorkeled in crystal blue water, we floated lazily in the black nightime waters of the Pacific Ocean, we visited vast pineapple fields, the LDS temple grounds, the Polynesian Cultural Center, the Pearl Harbor memorial, and even the Boy Scout Office. We saw tropical gardens and tropical birds. But do you know, nothing was as beautiful as the tropical paradise that had ingrained itself into my heart and mind on that night when I was seven years old on the stage of the Edgemont Church house in Provo, Utah.

A Round-a-bout Way to Get to the Point:

Within a couple of hours after Leah’s birth I had the privilege of holding her in my arms and I was overwhelmed with the bonding I felt with her. It was instantaneous. I was hers to do with as she pleased. I felt fortunate to be able to tend her from the beginning; to watch her growth every day; to be with her for each milestone – smile, tooth, sit up, crawl, talk, walk, kindergarten.

I was not prepared last August when her parents announced they were moving – away! I felt the earth quiver and shake. Surely this couldn’t be happening! Some miracle would occur . . . But no. Within weeks she was gone and I thought I wouldn’t be able to stand the pain. I cried - no sobbed - for weeks. I woke up in the middle of each night sobbing.

The pain is intense seven months later and I’m not sure it will ever go away. I pass by a lost Polly Pocket shoe and still I cry.

I am getting nearer to the point I want to make . . .

This morning was stake conference. Dale couldn’t go with me because he had meetings to attend in the Boise Idaho University Stake. And I was strongly tempted to stay home. I decided I was capable of attending a meeting by myself (good grief!). But I knew what I was afraid of . . . I drove up to the Columbia Village meetinghouse, into the parking lot, got out of the car and started walking toward the front door. I automatically turned around to look, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. No Leah running from her car in her Sunday dress to greet me! No Leah inside the hall saving a chair for me! And I started to cry.

I feel that I have been given the opportunity (I can’t think of another word) to feel a tiny bit of the grief that a parent feels when a child dies, or that a wife feels when her soulmate dies. Just a smidgen. Just enough, I think, to keep me humble. Just enough to help me realize how precious our relationships are, how precious our time with our loved ones is. I see Leah often. She comes to visit for a few days. I go there to visit for a few days. But I know that our close relationship is over. It is so hard not to grab on to her and sob and cry. I know that a bereaved parent, or spouse has no hope of any consolation – No hope for any spring-break visit. My heart aches for their loneliness.

Point: I’m scared - really scared because of the taste I have had of it. And knowing that when the real test comes, I might not have the faith and courage to live with it..

Mindless Chatter

I am happy today for the sunshine,
For the skies of gray or blue
For within my heart is a song of love,
I’ll live, I’ll work, I’ll do.
No cloud can cast a shadow,
Over courage such as mine,
And I’ll sing this song as I go along
I’ll live, I’ll work, I’ll do.
(who is the author??)

I awoke in the middle of the night with this song running through my mind.
It is a song from my childhood. Primary? Sunday School? I don't remember . . .
I thought: This is a good song to learn to play on the guitar -- I'll do that in the morning.
When I awoke, I remembered that I was going to work on a song on my guitar, but I didn't have a clue what the words were, or the tune, or anything! Then this afternoon as I was doing some completely off-track mundane (mundone?? what is that word? It must be a private family joke -- mundone? Why would I think of that in the middle of this other mindless blog? Which, again, shows how my mind is completely running rampant.) -- Back to the subject: mundane task, the song, tune, and lyrics came flooding into my mind. Isn't it a wonder how the human brain works? I firmly believe that everything I've ever experienced is lurking in the depths -- if only I knew the access codes! Back to the subject: Where did this song come from? Has anyone heard it?

And the picture above: this was NOT a happy cloud. It was a cloud we saw hovering over Mesa, Arizona in 1972 and it held a tornado. So this cloud did cast a huge shadow, and had I been under it, I'd have been scared to death! Courageousless

#8 THE SALT RIVER

It was drizzling rain on the day we had set aside for a drive along the Salt River near Saguaro Lake. The desert was puddling up and water was beginning to fill in the run-off dips in the road. I lamented that we couldn’t be there two weeks from then to see the desert awash with brilliant flowers. But this day couldn’t be complained about – the desert was radiant green and so beautiful. We stopped at a picnic area on the banks of the Salt River and stepped into a birder’s paradise. Here’s what we saw: Common Moorhen
Coots
Scaup
Common Goldeneye
Double-crested Cormorant
Canada Goose
Great Blue Heron
Mallard
Black Phoebe
Yellow Warbler
Northern Cardinal
Great-tailed Grackle
House Sparrow
White Crowned Sparrow
Vermillion Flycatcher

#7 Birding Doug's Yard

The Phoenix weather was absolutely perfect. Each morning we sat on Doug’s front porch which overlooks the desert and watched birds. I hung a hummingbird feeder in a mesquite tree and within 30 minutes Anna’s and Costa’s hummingbirds were vying for the syrup. Soon a Gila woodpecker discovered the free food and performed an intricate balancing act to get at the tiny holes that dispensed the sweet stuff. A covey of Gambel’s quail foraged around in the cover of a brush pile; and every morning at 9:15 a beautiful male cardinal flew to the top of a nearby tree to soak up the sunshine and show off his regal splendor.

Here are the birds we saw in Doug’s yard:
Black-throated sparrow
Ferruginous hawk
Red-tailed hawk
Gambel’s Quail
Anna’s Hummingbird
Costa’s Hummingbird
Mourning Dove
Starling
Cactus Wren
Gila Woodpecker
Curve-billed Thrasher
Bendire’s Thrasher
Abert’s Towhee
Great-tailed Grackle
Verdin
Townsend’s Warbler
Mockingbird
House Sparrow
Black-tailed Gnatcatcher
Northern Cardinal
White-crowned sparrow
House Finch

#6 Quilts and Some Memories (part B)

In 1960, after the birth of my first baby, I think I was in postpartum depression – not sure because nobody talked of such things way back then. I went to my sister-in-law/other mother whining that I was so bored and there was no hope of brightness on my horizon whatsoever. She popped me into the car, took me to town, bought quilt makings, brought me back home and proceeded to teach me how to make a quilt. I’ve never since whined about being bored!

In 1966, I wanted to give a very special birthday present to my mother-in-law; so I decided to make her a quilt – a satin quilt – blue on one side, white on the other. Four of my aunts (my father’s sisters) came to my home each day for a week to help me quilt it. They knew my mother-in-law, they loved to quilt, and I didn’t think of it at that time, but I think they must have loved me. We had a wonderful week sewing, chatting, lunching together.

I presented the quilt to my mother-in-law for her birthday – she accepted it graciously, but I never saw the quilt again. Many years later I asked her about the quilt and she said matter-of-factly that it had been lost or stolen when she moved.

In 2006 my mother-in-law died, and when we were going through her things in her home, we found a black plastic bag in the top of the linen closet and in the closet was the Quilt! -- Along with dish towels and pillow cases I had embroidered for her and that my grandmother had crocheted.