‘Old chickens make the best broth.’ And mothers give the best advice | Column
Update: This column has been clarified with new information.
I didn’t like my grandmother much. She couldn’t speak English and she smelled funny. But my mother was devoted to her.
Mom and I took the train to visit Grandma in rural Oregon every year. We traveled on my father’s railroad pass. He was allowed one trip a year as a railroad section gang laborer on the Great Northern Railroad. The conditions were terrible. We traveled from Warland, Montana, with stops at Libby, Jennings, and Yak, and frequently where there was no town at all. It took us two days and one night to get to Roseburg, but my mom wouldn’t pass up those two weeks with her mother.
I just didn’t get it. Why were two weeks with this strange little person so important? It took me about 15 years to work out that a woman who lived in remote Oregon in a house without running water — the nearest water was about a half block away — or electricity, or indoor plumbing might just possibly have a little trouble with personal hygiene.
And yet, somehow, Grandma baked 40 loaves of crusty, marvelous, Italian bread in her outdoor oven every Monday morning while my Grandfather never did a stick of work in his life.
Grandpa was born on Madagascar, the oldest of 24 children, and since he was going to inherit the family business, he didn’t see any great need to spend a lot of time on career preparation. In fact, my grandfather’s career training had prepared him only for riding on a white horse. When the family business fell apart and the young couple came to the United States, he found there weren’t many openings for riding a white horse, and he spent most of his life smoking his pipe and waiting for someone to come by with a horse that needed riding.
At the same time, Grandma was busy in the fields from morning until night, carrying baskets of vegetables on her head, like in the National Geographic photos, working with whichever of her eight children were home.
And yet, she felt such joy — and shared it. It was incomprehensible to me.
Didn’t the woman realize the hopelessness of her situation? Apparently not. When my uncle’s cowboy band came on the battery-operated radio each Saturday night, she was right there playing her tambourine and dancing. How did she do it at her age? we’d ask.
“Oh, old chickens make the best broth,” she’d say. I think that meant that life needn’t lose its flavor as you get older.
My grandmother never stopped working the fields around the donation claim property that was her home. She adopted a pet monkey named Susie. Susie bit people but she and Grandma were fond of each other. When Grandpa died, Grandma issued the edict that no snakes were to be killed, because it was probably just Grandpa coming back in a different form to look things over. That seemed reasonable to us.
A Mother’s Day postage stamp was created the same year I was born.
President Roosevelt approved the stamp that would mark that first day. I didn’t know about that, of course. I was busy lying around being adorable in the dresser drawer that was my bassinet.
Mother’s Day became the day when children showed how they felt about their parents. My daughter at 8 wrote this impassioned reflection:
“And where would I be without my mother? Out in the cold with no hot soup — that’s where!”
Mothers never stop giving advice. Tam Alden of Lacey says that her mother, Bertha Calhoun, now 103, still offers sound advice such as “Always read the labels on food packages carefully before you buy and especially notice how much fat there is.”
One of my own favorites is: “Flip your burger before eating it.” This decreases the chances of everything falling out the sides as it will press down on the loose items
Advice I share: “Always be sure to make younger friends as you grow older.” They will help you move heavy items, and sometimes they’ll even drive you to new and exciting places. With luck, they’ll even give you a ride home.
Many years ago, I was lucky to interview Maria Von Trapp — Maria from “The Sound of Music.”
She said that yes, she had liked the movie (sharp questions, Dorothy) but she had not liked the liberties the film took with her family. The names or sexes of all seven children were changed. “Still, “ she said, “we mustn’t be smallish.”
Mothers give the best advice. We mustn’t be smallish, we should turn our hamburger over before eating it, and we must always, always find joy in every day.
Where to find Dorothy in May
May 13: Coffee Chat and Change the World at 9 a.m. Register at www.itsnevertoolate.com
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