What goes around…

My parents were married in 1956, in a Catholic church. Mom was Protestant. That very fact that she was, caused a lot of issues to rise on my dad’s side of the family, all devout Catholics.

I’m really not sure how well my mom was liked by her in-laws, but in the years to follow, despite the family’s animosity, she refused to convert to dad’s religion.

Mom was a gentle woman, very loving and giving. She wasn’t one to meddle in other’s affairs yet she stood her ground when she believed she was right. I was born in 1958 and by the time that I was 6 or 7, a silent war raged on that I was unaware of.

Mom wanted me to know both religions, so I went to church school at a Baptist church on Tuesday afternoons as a time-release from my regular schooling. On Saturdays, one of my parents drove me to another church school at the family’s church (St. Vincent) for a couple of hours of Catholic teachings. This went on for at least a year, maybe two.

I remember that one day, sometime after my first communion (age 8) my uncle and a priest showed up at our front door. What followed was a yelling match between them and my mom…and I hid behind her skirt in fear. My uncle and the priest (from St. Vincent’s) ordered my mom to take me out of the Baptist church school…which my mom refused to do.

My dad? He pretty much refused to get into the middle of the issue…siding neither with my mom nor his family. My dad was like that…he never said too much of anything and it was my mom that wore the true pants in the family…not dad. That little fact and the issue of my religious schooling only drove a bigger rift between my mom and her in-laws.

As I got older, I began to notice the strained relationships between my mom, my grandparents, my aunts and uncles. I also was aware that it was because of the religious differences. Yet life went on, my mom keeping much of this to herself to allow me the freedom to grow up without having to take sides.

It wasn’t until two years after mom’s death (when I was 16) that I found out my mom had gotten a last ‘ha-ha’ on my uncle…her version of ‘what-goes-around, comes-back-around-to-bite-ya-in-the-arse”!!!

Since we were diary farmers we usually had 2 or more cows butchered a year for our meat supply. It was at one of these times that my mom pulled a fast one on my uncle and it was a doozy!

A cow had gone to be butchered and the butcher always called and talked to my mom to see how she wanted our half to be cut up…steaks, roasts, hamburger and so forth. While they were on the phone, the butcher mentioned that he’d tried calling my uncle’s place but apparently neither he nor my aunt was there so that he could take their order as to how they wanted their meat divided.

Mom, thinking at the speed of lightning, replied, something to the effect of ‘oh--they’d left their order with her and they wanted their entire half of the cow made into hamburger‘!!!

As I said, I didn’t know about this little deed until about 2 years after her death. When another aunt told me about what mom had done, all I could do (and still do!) was laugh and laugh!

How could I not be proud of my mom?


[This was originally posted by me on Digital Journal November 10, 2010. My sister found it in her archives and reminded me of it this morning! Thank you Anastasia!]

Thanks for stopping by!

Deb