Doris
with Dave and lamb
Dear George,
We owe Mother’s Day to a
woman named Anna Jarvis who was born in the tiny hamlet of Webster, West
Virginia. Her mother, Ann Maria,
had founded Mothers’ Day Work Clubs in five cities to promote sanitary
conditions and to feed and clothe Union and Confederate soldiers. After her mother’s death in 1907, Anna
embarked on a campaign to make “Mother’s Day” a recognized holiday, and her
efforts resulted in Woodrow Wilson declaring it an official U.S. holiday in
1914. It didn’t take long, though,
for Anna to become fed up with the commercialization of Mother’s Day, and in
the 1920’s she and her sister spent their family inheritance protesting against
what the holiday had turned into.
Both died in poverty.
Embittered by so many people sending their mothers printed greeting
cards, Anna said, “A printed card means nothing except that you are too lazy to
write to the woman who has done more for you than anyone in the world. And candy! You take a box to Mother – and then eat most of it yourself. A pretty sentiment.”
Despite such misgivings, I
always get nostalgic on Mother’s Day.
I’m sad that my mother is no longer alive and regret not saying to her
many things that I might have.
People whose mothers are still living should relish the fact and take
advantage of it. Growing up in our
family, the saddest thing we ever talked about was being a “motherless biccus.” No one knew exactly what this meant, but being motherless
was clearly a dire state of affairs.
I spent some time this morning looking at photos of my mom, Doris
L. These were taken mostly by my
dad but also a couple by my brother Peter. Here are a few
memories in honor of Mother’s Day and of my mother in particular.
Doris
My mother was a quite
striking beauty. She grew up in
Omaha in a one-child family, majored in French in college, and met my dad at
the University of Wisconsin around 1929 or 1930. She was a sorority girl, a horseback rider, and an excellent
tennis player Doris had a deep
voice such that callers on the phone would frequently say, “Hello, Mr.
L***” She tanned darkly in
the summer, and, even though she was a 100% Daughter of the American Republic,
my dad joked that she was part American Indian.
Doris
and Vic
Doris and Vic married in
1932. After a stint in Omaha, they
returned to Menominee. They led a
most amazing life together. They
struggled to survive financially through the Great Depression. When Katja and I married, my dad gave
me a silver dollar that Doris and he had kept in a secret place during the late
1930’s in case they lost everything.
Then my mom raised Steven and myself while my dad was stationed in the
Pacific theater during World War II.
The fifties got better.
Family
photo at YMCA camp (circa 1950)
Doris was a wife, mother,
homemaker, and social hostess; Vic, a Menominee lawyer and prosecuting
attorney. She gave birth to four
kids: Dave (1937), Steve (1941), Peter (1945), and Vicki (1947). In most families we knew the men were
breadwinners and the women raised the children. With four children in our family, it wasn’t an easy
task. Here we all are at family
visitation day at the YMCA camp near Green Bay.
With
Vicki
After three boys, Doris was
completely thrilled to have a daughter, and she lavished special attention on
Vicki. While the boys
presented more problems, I think that Doris worried the most about Vicki and
devoted herself to bringing her up properly.
Doris
with Steve and Dave at River House
From 1946 on our family
lived in a house made of Norway pine on the Menominee River. My mother loved that house and its
surroundings: the summer sunsets, the trees and wildflowers, the river and its
view, even the snowy winters. She
stocked a bird feeder outside the dining room window daily and called us
excitedly if a cardinal or a red-winged blackbird appeared in the driveway.
Uncle
Karl, Aunt Millie, Thor, and Uncle Kent
Doris and Vic made Xmas a
special occasion in our household.
Our extended family would gather on Xmas eve, along with visits by
friends. Vic’s twin brothers Karl
and Kent and Kent’s family, along with my aunt Martha, Uncle Ralph, and their
kids came every year. We children
would be at a fever pitch in anticipation of Santa’s pending visit. Doris was an excellent cook, and she
would prepare a big dinner of turkey or ham or even a goose. The adults would get a little tipsy
after a couple of Jim Beams on the rocks.
Vicki
and Micky at Mike’s grave
We had two Irish Setters in
our childhood, and Doris adored the dogs.
When Mike fell through the river ice one winter, Doris commanded the
children to stay in the house, and we watched out the living room window as she
crawled out on the ice on her stomach and pulled the dog to safety. On another occasion Mike and Micky got
into a vicious fight, and Doris sustained a deep gash in her hand when she got
in the middle to break up the fight.
Friends
at hunting camp in Cedar River (Doris second from left)
Doris and Vic lived their
whole adult lives in Menominee, and they had a wonderful friendship group there. My mom was very sociable and enjoyed
nothing more than gatherings with their close friends. At the Worth’s hunting camp, we kids
would go off in the forest while the parents hung out, drank beer and smoked,
and talked and talked.
Swedes
at the costume party
Doris, Vic, and their
friends had many parties, and often these were theme parties, e.g., centered on
art, poetry, music, theater, etc.
Costume parties were the best.
Here are some Swedish warriors who, despite their beards, are actually
my parents.
Doris
and Jean
Jean O’Hara was Doris’ best
friend, and our families spent a lot of time together. The moms spent a lot of time cooking
and talking in the kitchen while their husbands debated politics and Notre Dame
football in the living room.
Doris
and Dave on the Green Bay shore
The O’Hara’s lived on Green
Bay, and we spent a lot of time swimming there. Usually Doris sat in a lawnchair on the shore, keeping a
watchful eye on her children. I
still have a vivid memory of walking alone into the bay at around age 6 till
the water got up to my neck, then completely panicking and screaming for my
mother to save me. She did, and I
got a lifelong lesson in why mothers are so important.
Doris
and Steve at the art museum
U.P. towns like Menominee
were small and fairly isolated, but they were in driving distance of Milwaukee
and Chicago. Doris and Vic took us
on regular forays there, and visits to the Chicago Art Institute were an annual
part of our childhood education.
Family
reunion
My mother was distressed
when her kids reached young adulthood and scattered all over the country –
Vicki in California, Steve in Washington State, my family in Cincinnati, and
Peter in multiple places from L.A. to Toronto to New York City. My parents insisted that we all convene
each August in Menominee, and these were wonderful occasions. Here are Doris and Vic at the foot of
the willow tree in our front yard at River House, with various children and
grandchildren up in the tree.
With
Aggie at Farm
In the mid-1970’s Doris and
Vic moved into a farmhouse that they had renovated in the Birch Creek area. Farm was an immense source of
gratification to them in their later years. Here’s Doris with Aggie, one of their several dogs during
this period. Though Aggie was a
rather hyper dog that killed their pet goose in the front yard, Doris remained
emotionally attached to her nonetheless.
Lovey
When Puff, my parent’s last
dog, was killed by a passing car, a friend gave Doris a white cat named
Lovely. Though she’d been a dog
person all her life, Doris bonded completely with Lovey and spent many hours petting
her at the living room window.
Doris
and Vic leaving Farm
My mother’s last years were
difficult. She’d had two bouts of
lung cancer, and she had difficulty walking because of being in constant
pain. She pretty much gritted her
teeth and rarely complained to others.
Peter and I were with her in her hospital room on the last day of her
life, and she said to us, “I’m grateful.”
I think those were probably her last words. Even at death’s door, my mother’s inclination was to be
considerate to others.
Doris
laughing, with Vicki and Peter
More than anything else,
what I remember about my mother was her laughter. She had an ever-present sense of humor and impressed upon us
the importance of fun in one’s life.
Of the four of us kids, I think that Steven learned that lesson the
best. But Doris knew more about
having fun than any of her offspring.
That makes me happy.
Love,
Dave
G-mail Comments
-Kiera O (5-16): O, my, David. Such a feeling of
richness I have upon concluding the Mother's Day installment of your blog.
Thank you.
-David W (5-13): wonderful
entry David!!! So funny-i had a dream last night night that you and I were
hunting alligators which were chasing us all over this swampy area-funny and
horrifying. Take care. david
