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All
of this took place in the little town of St. Johns, Arizona.
While they were still newly weds a man in town, Henry Platt,
offered them what could be an opportunity. Mr. Platt had a herd
of sheep in the mountains that were almost ready to lamb. It
had been a bitter cold winter and an equally cold spring. He
was afraid the little lambs would not survive without tender
care. He told my mother and father that if they would go up to
the mountains and take care of his sheep, they could have all
the little lambs they could save. Good fortune seemed to be
with them. As soon as they arrived in the mountains the sun
came out and they saved every one of the little lambs. The
price of sheep was high and the price of cattle was low, so
they sold their sheep and bought cattle. My father had
considerable experience herding cattle on the range when he was
a young man so he was successful in this new business and
finally sold the cattle for a good profit.
By now
they had four children born in this log cabin. The fee for the
midwife to deliver these children was $2.00 each, and that
included ten days free nursing care. The midwife claimed she
never lost a mother or a child. One morning, when my father was
wondering what to do with his financial success, he said to my
mother, “May, what do you think we should do with all this
money?” “Let’s put it in your head where we can’t lose
it,” she said dramatically. My father had always been
interested in furthering his education and was considering
studying dentistry, so that is what they decided to do. They
built themselves a new gray stone house, furnished it, rented
it, took their four children and boarded a train for Chicago
where my father had arranged to attend Northwestern University.
Before he boarded the train he took off his cowboy clothes, his
shapes, boots and hat and dressed in a gentleman’s suit. This
was the direction he was going and he never looked back.
This was
a courageous thing for them to do because there were no student
loans in those days. They were entirely on their own. The folks
in St. Johns thought they were crazy to leave what they were
leaving and go out into the unknown. The only encouragement
they had was from the town superintendent of schools and my
mother’s father. But remember, money went further in those
days. Although there were no student loans available and
limited financial aid, there was also no income tax, no sales
tax, no gasoline tax, no airport tax, no motel tax, no tax of
any kind except a county property tax to keep public education
funded. Take my word for it, it was a different world then, and
in many respects a better one.
Now with
that background I will tell you more about my mother. She had
the most uncanny sense of knowing how to say the right thing at
the right time, and what she said always made people feel
better, especially better about themselves. She knew how to
glorify success, and minimize failure. She even knew how to
glorify failure. For instance: My husband and I were married in
1942, when World War II was raging in full force. Aubrey was
enrolled in dental school - the University of Southern
California. Although it was a highly rated university, much
pressure was connected to it, especially because of the war. Of
all the freshmen they accepted in the school – they had room
for only one third in the upper divisions. No matter how good
their grades, the students were ever aware that only one third
would make it to graduation.
When
final exams were drawing near the students who were ready for
the upper division were very tense. Aubrey was one of them.
Even his good grades didn’t reduce his fears. He was beyond
reason and almost frozen with fear. My mother sensed this and
one day said, quite casually, “Aubrey, you will probably be a
better man if you fail than if you pass.” These were not
superficial words to ease his pain. She really meant it. Her
sense of values had given her a broad outlook on life and what
is important. Character is not built in a university. It is
hammered and forged in the fiery furnace of life. Well,
Aubrey completely relaxed at that moment. His fears fled. He
knew that in the mind of his mother-in-law he would not be a
failure and that was important to him. From that moment on he
had a special feeing for her and later on said something that
touched my heart deeply. He said, “When I die, the first
person I want to see is your mother.” Incidentally, he did
pass his exams and graduated on schedule, but I sometimes
wonder if he missed something important by not failing.
My mother
did not have a set way of saying the right thing at the right
time to people. It was spontaneous. It came from promptings
within, impelling them, not necessarily to the easy way, but to
the direction that was best for them. For example, at the same
time my husband was in dental school, my young nephew, Jack was
trying to get accepted in the same university. There was a lot
of red tape, brick walls and blind alleys so he began to
complain to my mother about his unfair lot in life and told her
he was ready to quit, that it was not worth it. In this case my
mother stood up to him and said sharply, “Jack, do you have a
wish bone or a back bone?” This made him angry at the time
but his respect for her gave him tenacity and he made it
through the university. Things are quite different now.
Opportunities for an advanced education abound, but it was not
so during World War II.
My mother
had a special way of handling children, even the difficult
ones. She demanded strict obedience but she never harmed the
child. Her key was persistence. For example I had a
front row seat one evening watching her conquer my little
nephew Gary, age 4. His parents were not there at the time so
my mother was in charge. One evening some of the older
grandchildren came by on their way to a movie and wanted to
take Gary with them. It was getting past Gary’s bedtime so my
mother said no. Gary was usually such a cute little boy but not
this time. He put on a real temper tantrum for all of us. He
kicked and he screamed to his outer limits. To conquer this
little wild cat my mother took him by the arm, spoke gently to
him and put him in the garage with her foot against the door.
Now he screamed louder than ever. When his screams faded she
said gently, “You can come out when you stop crying.”
Finally he stopped but as soon as he was outside his fiery
temper returned. I watched with awe my mother’s unending
patience. Finally, after a full 45 minutes of in-and-out of the
garage, Gary stopped crying and did my mother’s bidding.
In
addition, my mother had an uncanny way of minimizing problems,
even difficult and serious problems. For example, I was unable
to have children the first five years of my marriage, and then
I had five little ones very close in age. Besides the full role
of mother hood and keeping my house organized and running, I
was asked to teach classes in my church and help with various
big events. And I was not inclined to turn away someone who was
in dire need of me. All of this sounds quite angelic on the
surface but inside I was crumbling and spent two days in the
hospital with a near nervous breakdown. Shortly after I came
home from the hospital my mother called me from California to
check on me. She listened quietly while I reviewed all of my
problems which seemed to have no solutions then she said in a
very calm voice: “Helen, you have nothing to worry about.
Aubrey has to take his place in the world of men but all you
have to do is to tend children.” Those few gentle
words kept ringing in my ears. With my husband’s support I
trimmed life down to tending children and quickly
recovered from my near nervous breakdown.
Now a
word to those who work outside the home: It is almost
impossible to successfully fill your role as a mother,
directing the hour-by-hour affairs of your children, - if you
work outside the home. I know that many of you feel locked in
to your jobs but this is not so. Where there is a will there
is a way. Trust in God and turn to Him for a way out. Your
children are his sheep, and he is their shepherd, so he
is concerned about them and will help you if you ask.
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