Mama Said. She was always telling me things…worldly wise things, inconsequential things, things that were sort of true, things that were silly, or too fantastic to believe. Even more compelling was the realization that she believed every word she said to me.
I went to babysit for a friend of hers one evening when I was a teenager, and upon coming home again I told her how we got into their house. “The Doctor drove down his street, up the driveway, and pressed a button on this little black box in his hand, and the garage door just went up on its own, and we drove into the garage,” I told her that evening when I returned home.
“It did not,” she exclaimed, looking at me with a faint smile on her face, as if she were waiting for the punch line. She simply did NOT believe me. After all, this was 1969 and garage door openers were a pretty new-fangled device. I was 15 and had certainly never heard of them. She never believed me, not then. Years later of course, they became commonplace, but that day she was sure I was making up this tall tale just for her amusement.
Mama was born near Edenton Kentucky in 1920, in her mother’s feather bed at the back of the cabin perched up on “Poosey Ridge”. A name she wasn’t terribly fond of… In fact, we held it in reserve as a sure fire way to embarrass her when the mischievous bug struck me or one of my brothers.
I’m almost 62 now, and I can still hear her voice echoing through my mind, little things like “Scrub those rusty knees” (this every time she put me in the bath tub after a hard day of 6-year-old playtime). Funny how those small pearls meant to teach me the basics have been engraved deeply into the very core of my being. Those times the hurts of this life come flying at you, tearing from you cries of anguish, Mama would say, in her calm and comforting way, “It will be all right. God’s looking in on you and He’s in charge. Remember that.”
I could tell you lots of things about my Mama. And I will. Mama, and Uncle John, and Cousin Lizzie, and all the rest. There’s a world of amusement–and wisdom–awaiting us, my friend.
Keep reading, and we’ll see where this journey through the Cucumber Patch takes us. Mama says to be careful you don’t step on the vines, though. And Always remember Whose you are.