Mother knows best

If memory serves, I was about 8 or 9 years old.  It was a Sunday in July and Mother was frying chicken and making a large bowl of potato salad.

 

Later in the afternoon we were expecting to have a picnic in the park with family and friends.  I was excited since the picnic spot had swings, slides, a merry go round and the company that planned to join us had children about my age. The only problem was we had some early morning showers and it was still overcast and could rain some more.  We’d still picnic, but probably in our dining room which was something we’d done before.

 

I asked my Mother if she thought the sun would shine. She replied, “If you see some blue about the size of Dutchman’s Britches, it will probably clear off.”  I knew that conversation was over, except I had no idea what a Dutchman was, and I really wasn’t sure what his britches were, but she was busy and it wasn’t the appropriate time to ask any more questions.

 

On another occasion that I clearly recall, was when I was in Fourth Grade at Harlan Elementary, which was about five blocks from our house.  I was dressed, had my breakfast and was ready to put on my coat grab my sandwich in a little brown sack.  I checked to be sure I had the two pennies tied in a white hanky which I would need to buy a small carton of milk to have with my sandwich.

 

Mother stopped me, “Put on your snow pants and boots.”  I glanced out the window and the sky was bright and blue.  And, I hated wearing snow pants under the skirt of my dress.  They were wool, lined with cotton, but still scratchy. And the boots were hand- me- downs from my older sister.

 

“Why?”  Although I rarely questioned Mother, I felt this was a reasonable concern.

 

She gave me that look many readers will understand.  “It’s going to snow.”

 

This was in about 1948 and there were no Doppler, no weather channels that could predict such an event.  I plodded out the door, after getting my usual kiss from Mother, and headed towards the school. It was a little after 2 when someone in the class announced it was snowing, a bit at first, and then with a vengeance.  By 3:30, when school was dismissed I was glad to have my winter attire while I plodded through the blowing and drifting snow often evident in the Upper Midwest.

 

The only rational reason I’ve reached, on how Mother could predict what the weather was going to do.  She was born on a farm and weather was their best friend or most dangerous foe.  She knew when crops or livestock were in any danger, those attributes were something farmers cultivated, in addition to their fields.

 

On that Sunday, I was happy I had finally seen a patch of blue that might fit any Dutchman and we did have our picnic.  When Mother predicted the weather, I listened.   I was also happy to arrive home, cold, but mostly dry.  I never questioned Mother’s ability to predict the weather again.

 

 

– Isobel from Hot Springs, Arkansas, a FAR customer who is finding purpose in this new stage of her life.

 

* The opinions expressed in this article are those of the authors. They do not necessarily reflect the opinions or views of the Finance of America Reverse (LLC).

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