Some memories stick to us like glue. I’m not talking about the usual ones, the weddings and births that are so very important. I’m speaking instead about little things that somehow give meaning to our lives however unimportant they may seem as we look back over the years.
One that comes to the mind was back in 1945 on the beach at Fort Myers, Fla. My firstborn, Don, Jr. wasn’t quite a year old. I can clearly see his sitting there on that beautiful white sandy beach with tiny waves washing up over his tiny feet. He was giggling and was thrilled when he found a sand dollar. It was so quiet, that morning, and there wasn’t another soul out that early.
The sky was clear with a few white clouds, the air so pure it almost hurt. And for a change there wasn’t a plane flying out over the waves. Usually, even that early, planes would be coming from Pratt Field – where they trained fighter pilots – or Buckingham Field where B17’s and other large fighter planes practiced. Not this morning. It was completely still with just my first son and I enjoying one very special day.
This September, that baby will be 71. Another event occurred a few years earlier, the first time I’d been invited to my soon-to-be in-law’s home for a Sunday dinner. Of course I didn’t know then they’d become my in-laws. However, I was impressed with that meal and remember how I felt sitting down at that table. At my home meals were always in question, the question being was daddy sober or not.
There we had plenty to eat. But many of our meals were ruined by my father’s behavior. Not so at the table in the Hill house for that first pleasant Sunday meal. It was pure joy. The center of the table held a small bunch of flowers, and surrounding it were a lot of extra dishes. You know the routine, olives and celery, etc. Then there was the roast, the gravy, and fluffy mashed potatoes.
There was an assortment of salad fixings and at least three vegetables. Let’s not forget the ever-present homemade hot yeast rolls and butter. Later came delicious coffee served in china cups and dessert. I was to find out, over the years, that this wasn’t just a special meal for little old me. It was the way Mom Hill did Sunday dinner every single Sunday of her life until she became too ill to continue.
While I enjoyed those meals over the years, that first one will always be uppermost in my mind. Last weekend, while talking to my youngest son Danny, another poignant memory came to mind. Well meaning friends knew that our family was upset that I was again pregnant. Finances were a problem then, so they thought they’d do us a favor by setting up what was then an illegal abortion. I remember being horrified.
I remember wondering if God would punish me for what these people had tried to do. Had I taken that “out” I’d never had that conversation with Danny. I had morning sickness the entire time. It was just plain awful. But one day — as I was walking from the kitchen to the bathroom being ill again — I patted my stomach and I said “I don’t know who you are, but I love you, my darling baby!”
Today, Danny’s such a joy, taking wonderful care of his wife who’s totally disabled and in a wheelchair. When he was just a baby I had an altercation with our minister’s wife. Because of this I had stopped attending church. It hadn’t changed my faith, and the boys and their father, Don Sr., kept going to church, but we never got Danny baptized. It really bothered me, even after leaving Pennsylvania to settle in California.
When the boys were all grown, married, and busy building their own families, I asked Danny if he’d be baptized? One of the biggest thrills of my life, and one of my favorite memories, was the day I opened a large, legal sized envelope to see a picture of Danny being baptized in the Pacific Ocean. I’m his mom, I cried like an idiot. We all love that youngest ... he’s such a joy.
It’s now “A.M.” in Fallon, meaning “After Mert.” His smile and kindness at Nave League and Lincoln Day dinners is unforgettable. I believe he’s still smiling down on all of us.
Edna Van Leuven is a Churchill County writer and columnist. She may be reached at news@lahontanvalleynews.com