Happy Birthday, Mama

Today, April 12 is my mother, Susie Latty Day’s birthday. Mom has been gone for nearly twenty-two years now and there isn’t a day when I don’t miss her. I’d love to sit down at her dining table for just one more cup of coffee, just one more chat.

Many times, I wonder what my mother would think of the world today and all the things that are happening. She would probably look at me with questioning gray eyes and say, as I’ve heard her say before, “You don’t mean that!”  In only twenty-two years, things she thought would never happen, have happened. Many of them are good things; many are not.

Alice, Georgia, Susie Latty

Mom was born before the days of radio, not to mention television. The internet? Not even a figment of the imagination in her world. She grew up on a farm at Etta Bend with her parents, two sisters, and little brother. Her mother cooked delicious meals on a wood-burning cookstove and their farmhouse at Etta was heated by a fireplace. When the Latty family went to Tahlequah, they rode in a wagon or buggy. Their water came from a never-ending spring across the road. Their refrigerator was the springhouse. Nobody worked in town; they all tilled the ground, grew corn and other vegetables, and killed a hog for meat. Mom grew up with a love for God, family, and her wonderful, free America.

My mother enjoyed music and played the organ. She had a great sense of humor and, as a child, got into her share of mischief. Reading was her favorite form of entertainment. All her life, books were her mainstay. The Bible was the Book to which she turned the most. I have several of her Bibles. Reading the clippings, notes, and poems she stuck within the pages of a much-used Bible is as good as hearing a sermon.

After her marriage to my dad, Bob Day,  Mama had very little time for entertainment and, as my brothers and sister and I came along, her family became the center of her life. She cooked, cleaned, sat up nights with us when we were sick, sewed for us and loved us. Whether we were naughty or good, we knew that she would love us. Funny thing was, although we never doubted that her love was bedrock solid, we sure took great care not to disappoint that small lady who would sometimes look at us with a question in her eyes.

Mom should have lived in a palace with roses at her table every day, but that didn’t happen. She had good times and she had bad times. She was an example to me of how to live life. Never did I hear either of my parents complain. Even though she had worries of her own, she was always ready to listen to mine and encourage me. Always, there was the encouragement.

Helen, Mom, me

I think of her every day but especially on her birthday. If she were here, I wouldn’t buy or bake her a cake. I’d bake a lemon pie–her favorite.  When lilacs (her favorite flower) bloom, and gentle weather comes, she should be here to enjoy springtime with me. Happy birthday, Mama. I miss you.