Momma

Momma was somewhat of a radical.  She was an Irish Catholic from New England who just happened to marry a Tennessee Hillbilly.  I often wondered why the fur didn't fly on regular occasions. 
I remember being in Germany towards the end of the Vietnam Conflict '71-'74 and momma was bagging groceries at the post commissary.  You could spot her a mile away - she was the only one in a white jacket with a peace sign painted on it!! There are patches that read "War is not healthy for children and other living things", "Make love not war".. you get the idea.  I still have the jacket.  The collar is frayed and it needs new cuffs, but the artwork is still intact and that is what matters.
One year for Fasching (German equivalent of Mardi Gras) she went as Pippi Longstockings to a costume party and at Christmas she was always called upon to paint the neighbors windows.  Pop was a medic in the ortho dept and so she would paint him putting a cast on Santa, the mp across would be arresting Santa and so on.  She was really talented and could draw anything freehanded.
She sewed most our clothes and when traveling would dress us in basically the same thing - even the boys!! Our last trip to Germany she had a bolt of sea green corduroy - I remember it well.  I wore bell bottoms and vest with a bright yellow body suit, Diana did the same.  John and Ron had bell bottoms with jackets and yellow turtle necks, while Jenessa had a jumper with yellow turtle neck!  Not the most attractive colors, but cheap and she could pck us out of a crowd at any airport! 
She shared her love for the arts with all of us.  We were always encouraged to create in some manner, be it on paper, with music or on stage.  She was there for us, hung our art, sat and listened to cracked notes sing and supplied costumes for school plays.
She may have worked all her life outside the home, but she always had time to support us emotionally and managed to see to it that we gave our all in everything we did. 
Thanks for that, momma.

Little Boy Blue

I was active in all things theatrical in high school and that included the speech and debate team. I was too amiable to be much of a debater so our speech team teacher, Barry W., suggested I try poetry.  Wow!! Contests based on how you read and interpret poetry? Unreal! So I thought I would start with one that was familiar to me: Little Boy Blue by Eugene Field.  Sometimes momma would recite poetry to us at bedtime instead of books.  After reading it through a few times, Barry suggested I look up some interpretations as I wasn't quite "feeling" it.  I did.

To say that I was shocked would be an understatement.  All those years my mother recited poetry about a dead child! I could not believe it!  I asked her about it and she simply replied with a question:  "How did you feel  when you heard the poem?" "Did it make you sad?" "No".  "Were you upset that the boy just left his toys?" "No". "Why?"  "Because I thought he grew up, that's all."  "Then that all that matters.  How you felt at the time.  Now you will see it through someone else's eyes.  It is up to you to decide how you want them to feel in the end."

Little Boy Blue by Eugene Field

That was momma.  She would hand you something and wait to see what YOU made of it.  Sometimes I thought that was mean, but now I think it was awesome.

Creating a hat for a contest - yep still winging it at 50+

Why Marsydoats?

When I first decided to learn about blogging, I decided to do some research.  I discovered that it did not matter what I wrote about so long as it was interesting and relevant to me. Because my thoughts have lately been on my youth and growing up an army brat, I decided to make it an homage to my mother. 

I remember her singing this song when I was young: "Marsydoats and doesydoats and littlelambs eat ivy, a kiddleat ivy too,  wouldn't you?" At least that is what it sounded like to me.  When I grew older (12,13) I became brave enought to ask momma what a marsydoat was?  She laughed and then slowly repeated the words to me : " Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy. A kid will eat ivy too, wouldn't you?"  Boy did I feel foolish!! So momma, this next adventure is for you!