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Monday, May 14, 2012

A TRUE RETRO MODERN HOMEMAKER AND MOTHER


My retro homemaker ideal would be my mother. It isn’t that she was the best household manager I ever knew. It’s that she had a wealth of knowledge and skill, and as my mother, she was willing to be my mentor. That’s the way it is with a mother.

But I think of someone else when the retro ideal is mentioned. She passed away six weeks ago after a relatively short illness, leaving her family devastated. As I listened to them share their grief while pictures of her wonderful life played in the background, my own memories of her flowed into thought.

In the mid-‘70s when I first knew her, she was one of a vanishing breed: a college-educated woman whose career was her home and family. When I married Mike and joined him in the 1920’s cottage, her house, larger but of the same vintage, was right next door.

Her house needed some major maintenance as old houses do, but it was a lovely “Cape Cod” and she made it look like a million bucks. As a skilled homemaker, she was also a gourmet cook, an accomplished flower gardener, a gracious hostess. She set a table worthy of “Traditional Home” and she did so whether serving her family or guests. Anyone privileged to spy the interior of her cupboards marveled at her organizational skill. They say she was a natural on the ski slopes and she was a natural at homemaking as well. She did her own house and garden work, and she didn’t need a system of lists or cards to know where she stood. She was attractive and her outdoor activities brought an enviable glow to her skin. As a new wife already feeling inadequate, living next door to this paragon didn’t help – neither her fault nor mine. (It also didn’t help that our houses were quite close; my bedroom window overlooked her patio.)

I suspect (though I don’t really know) that she kept life’s distractions to a minimum. No one said, for instance, that she was an avid reader or a student of anything.  She wasn’t a church-goer or a community activist. Her style of homemaking didn’t extend to the rural home arts, such as sewing, quilting, knitting, or even growing vegetables, but if she had espoused these endeavors she would have done them well. Instead her house and family came first, and nothing was too much work or too much trouble for her family. As they put it, she served but was not subservient.

I had my frustrations with my proximity to this ideal. Fifteen years older than I, twenty years ahead of me in homemaking experience, her goals and skills were well-established while I struggled to define my home and my role in it. Her three children were outgrowing the nest while mine were being born. I felt so homely by comparison. I admired her management style, but what seemed effortless for her was a trial for me.  

Before my third child was born, her husband insisted they move to “trophy house hill.” Though she understood, I don’t think she was pleased. The distinctive old house was an excellent backdrop for her talents, and it had become her identity. It was the place where she had raised her children and her tulips. Above all, she loved it there. But the maintenance issues could no longer be ignored. Their last child having left for college, her husband was ready for a different experience. But just looking at the new house, I thought it wasn’t right for her.

So I watched from my bedroom window early one morning as she vacuumed her dining room, empty of furniture, one last time. She had been up all night to make sure the house was spotless for the new owner. She later admitted she was crying. “A lot of memories in that house,” she told me.

The impression she made in that old neighborhood is still remembered today. In fact, the family admitted (a bit sheepishly, I thought) that on the day of her memorial service they had visited that old house, walked around it, peered through the windows. In that vintage place she had undoubtedly done her most memorable work. KW

5 comments:

  1. what a lovely tribute Kathy. I'm sure it would have been nice to know such a homemaker.

    Hope your own Mother's Day was nice.

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  2. I remember reading her obituary in the paper and thinking how much love went into its writing. At the time I didn't know you knew her, but remember, you didn't know her when she was your age. :-) We become more confident with age and experience.

    The house part reminds me of our freshman and sophomore English teacher. When her husband took a new job in Lewiston and she had to leave the house she had restored and loved, she was devastated. I know because she talked to Mom about it. I think that was the beginning of the end of that marriage.

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  3. Though I didn't know her when she was my age, I didn't become like her as I grew older. I admire what I think of as her discipline toward her home, but there's another side to that -- compulsion. My compulsions send me in other directions and perhaps I have too many for my own good.

    I know the teacher you mention and the house. She did nice work with it.

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  4. What a fine tribute to your neighbor. She must have worked very hard to keep up her high standards. Someone (or some thing) in her life must have been the inspiration that set her on the path she chose.

    There's a reason that she didn't sew, quilt or plant vegetables. The more you do, the less attention you can pay to each effort. No woman can do everything (as we've all discovered). She knew what she wanted to do as a homemaker & spreading herself thin wasn't part of her plan. I admire someone who knows her strengths. Good for her.

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  5. Well put, Leah. I can't say what her motivations were -- didn't know her that well. She was busy doing what she wanted to do.

    I also think that once you establish an orderly home and schedule, and if you don't have "clutter" projects, you can keep house fairly easily.

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