Eileen and Larry Somers

This was a story I (Jeanne) heard only recently! My newest daughter-in-law has seven aunts and two uncles on her mother's side. I knew that her aunt Anna Mae Vagle was a worship leader at St. Joan of Arc Church (I remember her from the 1970s when I attended SJA with my parents), but I did not realize that Aunt Mary also went there. I saw Mary at a bridal shower for Mari and she told me about how she always called our dad "Chauncey" when she saw him at St. Joan of Arc Church. It was because of the movie Being There (blurb below from Hennepin County Library website) and the main character. "Chance is a secluded gardener who has spent all his life in the Washington D.C. house of an old man. When the man dies, Chance is put out on the street with no knowledge of the world except what he has learned from television. After a run-in with a limousine, he ends up a guest of Eve and her husband Ben. Ben is an influential, but sickly businessman. Now called Chauncey Gard...

"Collating and correcting school papers around the dining room table" - Since Eileen was a third grade teacher and actively involved in the local DFL, we were often put to work to help her with her many projects. We stuffed envelopes, assembled things (like lawn signs), and helped to correct the many spelling tests, math tests, workbooks, etc. Whatever she needed us to help with, we did. Everyone chipped in to get the job done! "Reading books to us as we snuggled on the sofa" - Jeanne doesn't really remember mom reading books . . . I think this must have been more for the three older kids. Dad read to Jeanne quite a bit. But we all grew up with a love of books! "Cuddling in the rocking/swinging chairs when sick" - Again, this is a Louise memory. I remember mom making a "bed" on the sofa with sheets and babying me. That's why I liked it when I got sick - she gave me special attention! I know Louise enjoyed swinging in the hammoc...

Louise wanted me to write about this, but didn't provide her memories or perspective. Here's mine: We (Tom, Ann, Louise, Jeanne, and Eileen) would play a chasing game around the kitchen, living room, dining room circle (and around the dining room table as an extra loop). We would holler, laugh, and run. Someone (of us kids) would grab one or both of mom's slippers (generic image provided, since her actual slippers are long gone) and toss it / them into the freezer. After some more running around, hollering, and laughing, one of the kids would get the slipper(s) out and put them on the floor. "Here they are, mom! I found your slippers!" When she put her feet into freezing cold slippers, the hollering and shouting ramped up even more. We had so much fun playing this game!

Last weekend (4.6.18), I slept over at Louise's house. We had gone to Iowa for a play on Friday night and had our MN Quilters meeting on Saturday morning. As I was having some morning coffee and trying to be quiet so she could sleep in, her bladder woke her up. She and I chatted as she opened window shades to let the morning sunshine fill the house. As she stood at the kitchen sink, looking out over the backyard and the maple tree, she commented on how she could picture our mom standing there, looking out. I can't find the words to describe the emotion in the room. Louise's memory of our mother brought that image and love into the kitchen with us. It was so lovely! Louise has always been a "sunshine" girl. She and our mom shared a sunshine-y relationship. The song, "You are my sunshine" has always made me think of the two of them together. - Jeanne

This one isn't a "real" memory, but a story my mom told me (Jeanne) several times when I was little. The entire family took a trip to Florida when I was about two years old. They left me with my Aunt Margaret Pahl (technically, my mom's first cousin's wife). According to my memory of the story, I was just fine during the vacation while my family was gone. When they got back, however, my full-on abandonment fears kicked in. My mom told me that I clung to her and screamed "bloody murder" if she left the room. She told me she couldn't even go to the bathroom without setting me off! This apparently lasted a few weeks after their return from the trip. I don't remember that, but I remember how Nick used to cry when I dropped him off for daycare at Sally Schultz's house. He was fine once I was gone. Alex comforted him and distracted him. But I was a wreck, peeling my son off my leg and closing the door to go to work. 💗

Eileen always had us set up the manger scene at Christmas time with all the figures except baby Jesus. He was usually on her dresser in the bedroom, awaiting Christmas morning. When we were kids, she would allow us to put in a piece of straw each time we did a chore, or something kind, or generally had a positive attitude. I remember loving to "get" to put straw in the creche and kept busy with different jobs around the house to earn the privilege. On Christmas morning, we would make a procession throughout the house. I got to be in front since I was the youngest. (In later years, it was one of the grandchildren in front.) We sang "Silent Night" and held candles as we walked to get the baby Jesus and bring him to the manger. During Lent, she would cut a branch from the lilac bushes and "plant" it in dirt in a vase that Louise still has - green and antique-looking. She would hang purple colored empty eggs from the branches. They had the symbols of the c...

Sometimes, I just wish for one more hug. Or a laugh. Or an "I love you" from her. My mom had her faults and failings just like everyone else on the planet. But her love was strong and true. I miss her always loving me and accepting me just as I am. She would listen and empathize. She was cheerful and encouraging. She was passionately in love with life. She overflowed with joy. The nice thing is that I can love my children like that. Completely. Always. It's also incredibly wonderful that I was blessed with a mom who loved me. Not everyone can say that. I'm also really glad that I am married to someone who loves me deeply. But I can still miss my mom sometimes.