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Here are some stories of and about my mom --if anyone has something they want to add, just let me know!
My mom used to call us for dinner the regular way, something like "Supper time!" or "Dinner's ready!". She got tired of having to repeatedly call us to get our lazy butts to the table. She said, "What do I have to do? Send out an invitation?"....And so was born the Invitation to Supper. You have to sing-song it LOUDLY and it goes a little something like this:
My brother invited me to his barbeque like that just the other day. Probably centuries from now, Foot descendants will be screeching out dinner invites, thanks to my innovative mom!
It has been a strange year without my mom. I have been sick recently with some kind of strange sinus/cold thing. It just keeps coming back. I wished my mom was here to give me some advice, but then I remembered that back on the farm in Montana where I grew up she would give us kids "Sponzes" when we were that sick. "Sponzes" or maybe "Spoanzes"? was this awful, tar-based horse medicine. It tasted like tar--it was very hard to swallow. You knew you were sick when you actually asked for "Sponzes". My parents kept it safe out of reach way above the refrigerator--like that we were actually going to try to drink the loathed swill when no one was looking was going to be a problem! Today, my brother Harold and I both live here in Long Beach (Los Angeles area). I said, "Bro, I wish Mom were here to give me some Sponzes." He replied, "Dammit Pook, I guess I will have to drive to Bakersfield* to get you some." I almost laughed myself better! You just can't beat those old farm remedies...or can you? * Bakersfield is the nearest "cow town" around here. It's about 130 miles away.
A good trick I learned from my mom: Mom had a lot of "old friends" she would look in on from time to time - visit with them and make sure they were ok. Sometimes she and we kids would do chores around their place they were not able to do or bring them berries and the like from our garden. They'd try to pay but mom would ask for more coffee, they'd turn their backs and then she'd slip the money back to us so we could put it in their winter coat pockets. She said that way they'd think it was just money they forgot. Mom was pretty sneaky! I loved that about her!
Mom's thing was if you had made enough dough for the pie crusts you might as well fill 'em up! I think it was impossible for her to make just 1 or 2 pies at a time.
Mom enjoyed telling this story: After she graduated from high school, Mom worked up on Big Mountain in a ski resort. One day some Norwegian skiiers came in, one was named Helgi. "Have you ever heard of a name like that?" he asked. "Try Helga...my sister," Mom replied. Upon learning her Norwegian last name, he bust out laughing. You see, Mom's name means "swamp" in Norwegian. "Swamp Girl" became her nickname to these guys. They had been drinking heavily and started singing,
They were have a great time ribbing her. They found out about Swamp Girl next morning at the crack of dawn when she took a big metal pot and banged it up and down the hallway screaming, "BREAKFAST!!!!!!!". Hangovers and loud noises don't mix so they were not very happy...but Mom was!
"Swamp Girl"
Here's one of my favorite pictures of Mom. She was having some fun with this fountain of Chief Seattle, who she jokingly said must be her relative since they looked so much alike. A lot of people mistakenly thought she was native indian. Mom did have a darker complexion and beautiful hazel eyes. She grew up on the Flathead Indian Reservation too so I guess it was an honest mistake...Kind of. Hey, not all Norwegians are blonde, as Mom explained many a time!
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