by Noella Noelophile®
(Royalty-free image by Rita F from Pixabay.)
“Have a little pride,” my mother used to fuss.
But she wasn’t talking about vanity or hubris.
No, what Mom had in mind was presenting what you are, at your best. She was not thrilled with sloppy clothes or messy hair. Mismatched socks were her particular pet peeve.
Mom lived that concept.
(Royalty-free image by Lolame from Pixabay)
Many years after her passing, my cousin, Peggy, would talk about my mom as her role model during her teen years. Peggy said she loved to watch my mother get ready for church or her social commitments in the community.
“She always looked nice, ” Peggy commented. “She always had her hair done and knew how to dress.”
This is so much more of an achievement, considering that my mother always struggled with her weight.
(Royalty-free image by F. Muhammad from Pixabay)
In her day, stores generally featured stylish women’s clothes in sizes eight through twelve. Going shopping with Mom, both of us were usually appalled at the selection–or lack thereof–in larger sizes. Huge prints and unbecoming colors were often the order of the day.
Mom managed to make the best of those limited offerings. Somehow, she found solid colors and smaller prints that suited her. I can still see her smiling in her aqua Sunday dress, accented with white costume jewelry and a small white hat. On Mother’s Day, she would proudly pin her corsage to her left shoulder (“A beautiful orchid!” she’d exclaim) just before leaving for church.
(Royalty-free image by Pezibear from Pixabay.)
For my mother, pride in presentation wasn’t limited to appearance. Clean and proper speech was equally important.
“To whom are you writing?” she would ask, seeing a pen in motion. Or, she’d gently tease if someone referenced “the store someone works at”, rather than, “the store at which So-and-So works”! And swear words–or even slang words like “gosh” or “darn”–weren’t acceptable.
“There are plenty of words to express yourself, without swearing!” she’d say.
Of course, my all-time favorite story–which sums up my Mom better than any other–was the one I shared last Mother’s Day. Mom turned in about $200 she’d found blowing around on the street, to our local bank, saying, “I think one of your depositors may have dropped this.”
At the time, that didn’t seem unusual. That was how my mother was. But in retrospect, it was an invaluable lesson in how to treat fellow human beings.
(Royalty-free image by Rudy and Peter Skitterians from Pixabay)
One other area of pride for my mother was her “handwork”.
Since her teens, Mom had been a knitter and crocheter. She made innumerable “sacque, bonnet and booties” sets for church bazaar sales or for a new arrival in the family. When I was small and obsessed with fashion dolls, she knitted a perfectly-fitting, very cute mohair coat. And today, we still have a rainbow-colored afghan she crocheted.
“See?” she’d ask, holding up her latest creation.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I do take a lot of pride–in you.