Eileen and Larry Somers

Eileen wanted grandchildren so had to settle for Ann's grand dog Zurie.  Eileen would hold the ball for a while and pretend to throw it, then she would.  Good fun.  Larry was thrown to a barking dog when he was babysat as a child, so did not like dogs - even goldens, but Mother got to loving Zurie.  One Mother's day (or near Mother's Day) I came in the house crying, towing Zurie by the leash. She had found a baby rabbit nest in the snow on the mountain.  She was trying to sympathize with my sensibilities, but being a good farmer, couldn't help smiling.  I said: "you want her to get all the bunnies - right?  Then you go out with her and finish up any (maimed) animals. When she had dementia, I told her about Zurie and a hawk chasing a bunny and she didn't like that story.  Then, towards the end it was too much for her and she didn't want Zurie around anymore.  But I remember her loving her furry grand child.

Eileen was ahead of her time. She had a nativity scene and kept the straw separate from it. We had to to chores to get to put a piece of straw in the manger for the baby Jesus. She encouraged us to make good choices and be helpful so that we could get the privilege of putting straw in the nativity.

We would go out to eat after church once in a while. We would share dishes, mom and I. We'd get the weird thing and split it. Something like a Greek omelet. Dad liked that we split it. He got a kick out of it. He'd comment on it.

On a family trip to Florida (back in the late 90s or early aughts) Tom, Sam, and Chris were enjoying mom's and dad's hospitality. They went to an all-you-can-eat buffet. The girls got a kick out of Tom eating octopus. It was a good meal. Mom went to get dessert. On the way home, she started cramping up. We took a bus as far as we could, but we were walking through the park. She had to go to the bathroom so badly she didn't think she would make it. There was a Port-a-Potty, so she tried to get to it before it was too late. It was too late. Tom felt so bad for her! The "dessert" area was right next to the sushi area . . . and she had gotten some nasty stuff.

Larry liked candy and would often offer it to others. Some of his favorites were my least favorite, though. He liked circus peanuts - those orange things reminiscent of styrofoam. He also liked chocolate covered cherries. One Christmas, at least three different people gave him a box for gifts! As he passed them around for others to "enjoy," most of us declined. Another favorite of his were the classic Hershey chocolate bars. The full sized ones! Some of us are a bit more particular about our chocolate and don't enjoy the Hershey milk chocolate. He loved buying boxes of chocolates - Russell Stover or Whitman's - for our mother. Then when she ate them, he commented on her eating too many chocolates . . . As Ann reminded me, he also liked ice cream bars. The ones with vanilla ice cream and the hard chocolate shell. When I was little, I would go through my Halloween candy and take out all the Bit O' Honey and the icky orange and black wrapped maple ones...

Approximately forty years ago, my mom and dad bought this table used. (At least, I believe so. I don't know that they ever bought brand new furniture . . . ) My mom liked garage sales and bargains. When Louise inherited the house and everything in it, she had two or three tables of her own. "Get rid of the ugly one that none of us ever liked anyhow!" Well after three and a half years, it's done. Ann didn't want to see a piece of history go, so I took photos for her. (Ann adds: Louise remembers that Eileen felt terrible when she used bleach to clean the table and it left a mark.  Also: I don't know how many people stubbed their toe on the leg extensions.  Ouch! )  Louise adds that the white spots were actually from when mom was trying to clean something else on the table and the bleach leaked through the cloth it was on. Here they are:

One of the things I heard a LOT in the late 70s / early 80s: "Watch your tone of voice!" I would snarl back, " What tone of voice?" I had so much attitude! When I was older (young 20s), I apologized to my mom for how awful I had been as a 13-year-old (and 14, 15, . . . ). She just laughed. "Seriously, mom. I was such a brat. I'm so sorry for how I talked to you." She shrugged it off. I think she was waiting for me to experience that with my own children. Alas, she didn't realize that my boys were very different than their mom had been as a teen. None of them was ever as awful to me as I was to my own mother! I'm glad I apologized to her when I did. Even though we had another twenty or so years together, I feel as though my ability to reflect and appreciate only grow with my own aging. I can now better understand how she could be so sanguine about my youthful awfulness.