GRANDMA, MATTIE AND MOM

(MOTHER’S DAY / 2020)

“...Do not forsake the teaching of your mother; Bind them continually over your heart…" / Proverbs 6:20-21

          My mother was born and raised in the deep south on the southern edge of downtown Pensacola in a one-story,  wooden, rectangular house (my guess is that it measured about 30’ X 50’ and sat about 2’ off the ground on concrete pillars).   It was located on a small corner lot on West Zarragossa Street, midway between West Garden and West Main.  Sander’s Beach was about a half-mile south - - located on Pensacola Bay - - which fed into the glistening Gulf of Mexico.  Papa and Grandma raised seven children in that love-filled tiny house - - my mom and her four sisters and two brothers.   It was a racially mixed, low-income neighborhood.  Directly across the street was Mike’s, a very small convenient store, but the perfect place to buy a cold bottle of RC and salted peanuts (and maybe a moon pie).  Mister Mike spoke with a Greek accent and lived with his wife and children in an apartment above the store.  In the days before I arrived on the scene my mom’s family used to ride an electric trolley two miles or so into the beautiful downtown, a bustling seaport awash with sailors, among whom was my father to be, a Navy guy from Clymer, Pa..  My relatively poor Pensacola roots were filled to overflowing with rich and fond memories!  I wouldn’t trade them for anything.      

          I remember from the days of my youth that grandma had a black lady friend, a neighbor named Mattie, who used to help her with housework.  It was mutually beneficial - - it gave grandma a little relief (she had multiple health issues) and it supplemented Mattie’s meager finances.  My grandma would pay her a little to do ironing, mopping and other miscellaneous chores.  Mattie was sweet and kind and always respectful.  I remember that she had a gold tooth that sparkled when she smiled and she smiled a lot.  She was a maid, but she was treated as if she was a part of our family. 

          Somewhere along the way when I was young I nicknamed my mother Mattie.  With us five kids there were always meals to prepare, dishes to clean, clothes to launder, floors to vacuum, etc..  My mom understood that her nickname was intended to be a compliment.  It was a joke, in recognition of her never-ending chores, but my Mattie was such a good mother!  About the time when I was in high school and nearing graduation, my parents took on foster care.  My mother became a loving and precious “interim mommy” to a dozen or more young children (at various times) who were awaiting adoption, one of whom later came to be my only brother, Jerry.

          It was ten years ago last March that we said goodbye to my mother.  We siblings (three sisters and two brothers) loved our mother ever so dearly.  She always got cards and flowers on her birthday and on mother's day.  And we helped around the house.  She used to tell others that I was her best kitchen helper.  I’m confident that she knew she was loved deeply.  But in retrospect, I wish we all would have taken more time to convey to her how much we appreciated her.  These last ten years have not been the same without her.   She was a shining light in so many ways.  She was always seeing to the needs of elderly church ladies and numerous other elderly ladies in the neighborhood and around town.  She was keenly mindful of the value of writing letters and sending cards.  As a generous gift giver, she was always thinking ahead about what others might enjoy and/or need.  My mom was an avid reader who instilled in me a thirst for reading.  She was a superb cook.  Her hot-water cornbread, fried in a big black iron skillet over a gas stove, was out of this world.  She tended well to the needs of her household - - we kids were always clean and well dressed.  She was a multi-faceted jewel!  If I could turn back the hands of time, I would give her even more hugs and kisses.  I would hold her soft hands and look her straight in the eyes and tell her how much I truly appreciated her.  HOW I MISS MY MOTHER MATTIE!!  

                                                                                        Terry Siverd / Cortland Church of Christ