The Day My Mother Chose the Frying Pan

Note: We published this story on our Substack on Mother’s Day. It’s a tribute to my mom, but we hope it stirs up good memories of your mother too. Feel free to add your own stories

Unconditional Love

Mom, stirring her ersatz version of goulash, paused. In our Pennsylvania kitchen my older brother Bob was recounting what he had heard at school about was going on behind Russia’s Iron Curtain: “Those kids have to report their parents to the police if they say something bad about the government.”  Listening, Mom turned to us from the stove: “They could put me in this frying pan before I turned in any of you.”

The image of our mother squeezed into a pan, naked, seared into our young brains. We were stunned, and proud. Wow, she would do anything to protect us. 

Both our mom and our dad were children of the Depression, with the emotional scars to prove it. Whereas Dad was a champion kidder, our mom’s personality had square corners. There wasn’t always a middle ground.

She always wanted the best for us. I think she only stopped begging me to “take a math class” after I graduated from college. But if someone outside the family said something bad about one of her chicks, look out!

Mom was a natural teacher. “Down the ramp and you’ll be OK,” she coaxed, pushing the little blue bike we all learned on. Then, there I was, flying down the sidewalk on a two-wheeler!

We normally walked the mile to St. Titus School. But if it was raining, she stuffed the seven of us into our Pontiac station wagon. With her I had to be careful what I wished for. If I pretended to be sick to stay home from school, that might mean a day of licking S & H Green Stamps and pasting them into books.

Mom’s job was more mundane, and a lot harder than Dad’s. After our seventh sibling was born, she got terribly sick.  An avalanche of casseroles and Jell-O concoctions piled up at our door. We were all scared; I thought she had polio. After that, Mom quit smoking those Pall Malls, and she got some household help.

Mom grew up on a large ranch in Oklahoma. She was a great horsewoman. As a driver she was so much more confident than most women of her time. No wonder, she was driving on the road at age 12. She was also a natural athlete – good at tennis, and an amazing putter in golf. She had a hole-in-one in her 80s and came close to shooting her age.

After WWII she came back East to my father’s hometown with many important life skills. When confronted with a live chicken that was wanted on the dinner table, she promptly wrung its neck. Her new father-in-law was mighty impressed.

There was only one time I remember seeing her cry. We were at her mother’s house in Oklahoma. Walking into the kitchen, I found her sobbing against her sister Tess’s shoulder. Today, I think she was overwhelmed with her responsibilities, and hated being so far away from her mother and family. At the time, it was frightening to see.

Mom tried to make time for all of us. When I was in the first grade, I complained that all the other kids’ mothers met them as they came out of school. Shortly thereafter, there she was, pushing Lewis or Lisa in a baby carriage up to the steps.

Dorothy had always wanted to have fun. She hated the idea of people just standing around at parties, so hers were memorable affairs. They always featured a game, like charades.  The passing of years softened her square corners. She became less serious… the sense of humor that had always been there emerged… she could laugh at herself as well as at others.

Her grandchildren loved her. No wonder, she knew them from their beginning. When a new grandchild was born, mom packed up her bags and arrived to “get that baby on a schedule.” Was that helpful? Yes! When mom left after getting our first child, Molly, all set up, my wife Jana wept.

One of the heartiest laughs I ever heard from her came shortly after she had a stroke at age 102. She had just heard that Donald Trump was running for President. Mom, a lifelong Democrat – she thought the idea preposterous!

Shortly thereafter, she went into a coma. But ever-protective, she wasn’t going anywhere until all of her chicks had arrived. Only then would she set out on her journey to the next world.