Mother's day

I found this post in the pocket of my jacket.  I wrote it a week ago while at the lake.  I was going to post it on Mother's day.  But, I forgot. ;-)

I am at Priest Lake as I write this blog.  The past few days in the mountains have been beautiful.  I am reminded of my mother and her constant struggle with living in the mountains, i.e. ranches.  Mom loved the mountains.  She just didn't want to be "of" the mountains.  She was a plains sorta girl.  For her, home was on the plains far enough back where she could view the mountains.  It was hard to argue with her logic.   What we must remember is that she enjoyed being in the mountains ~ for visits!  Billings was her home.

I'm afraid I often times view my memories of mom thorough a somewhat negative filter.  What I must remember is mom really did a great job given the hand she was dealt.  I recently read a story in a book that I bought at a Cambria library used book sale.  It was a book of short stories authored by women.  One of the stories talked about  living with a mom during the forties who was periodically in and out of mental institutions for treatment of manic depression ~ my mom's story.  Mom's mother lived until she was in her mid sixties.  Mom's only memories of her mom were of her constant struggle with depression ~ a manic depression that was often treated by prolonged stays in the state mental institution in Warm Springs Montana.  That's how depression was treated during the twenties ~ institutions.  Mom's stories of her mother were always viewed through the vail of her mental problems.  One of mom's stories I'll always remember was how  grandma was so painfully shy that she would grab mom and hide in the corn field when company came to visit.  Mom said, "it wasn't so bad.  It was our alone time and I had her undivided attention and we would play games."  Other stories involved long train rides back to Wisconsin to visit grandma's parents (to get away from her troubles) and of how when she was young she would miss her mother.

As I reflect on my mom's life.  I am amazed that she did as well as she did.  I admire her toughness.  I'm not so sure I could have done as well.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom.  I love you very much.

Gordon

Hiram

I must have been "channeling" Ruben Trejo last week.  As I was cleaning my shop,  I happened to look at some scrap lumber that I had remaining from some furniture that I built for the new addition at the cabin ~ two pieces in particular looked like shoes.  Another hunk of a rough cut log looked like a man's torso with a large belly button.  I never finished cleaning the shop that day.  Instead I built Hiram.  He goes by the name Hi and will be the official greeter at the cabin.  He will stand next to the bird feeder on the Northeast corner of the deck.

The scar on his right breast is the result of a fight he had with a logger.  The logger tried to kill him.   He says he has knots in his stomach from just thinking about returning to the scene of the assault.   ;-)

Gordon, et. al.