My mom had some rough going in her early life while growing up in Bandera. That life wasn’t far removed from the ways of the earliest settlers in the area.
Due to unfortunate circumstances, she had to forgo her education to stay at home and take care of her siblings and father. To say she later overcame that lack of a formal education would be an understatement.
My momma’s Catholic faith was strong and it was evident in the way she raised her own kids.
Those earlier times of fish only on no meat Friday along with attending Sunday mass were things chiseled in stone. I struggled for years to overcome the guilt I felt for skipping Sunday mass one time.
A lifetime later and I’m still trying to convince myself that it was my younger brother Eddie’s idea.
Looking back, I would gauge raising her brood to have been a big challenge for her. I won’t try to smooth talk you into believing I was a saintly kid simply because I served more than my share of masses as an altar boy.
Besides, there are too many people still around from back in the day who might not be inclined to paint you a picture of me with a halo. But I did spend a large part of my free time on the river which kept me out of her hair.
That little peach tree just outside the back door at home was a testament to the type of punishment doled out by my mom when she had reached her limit.
I don’t recall ever having peaches from that tree, but I do remember the pile of used peach tree switches on top of the old refrigerator in the kitchen. There was a pretty good stack behind the refrigerator too created by kids passing by and accidentally knocking them off the top.
I don’t recall exactly how many times I outran the switch, but I can still recall my mom’s words as she gave up the chase.
“Go ahead and run. You’ll come back when you get hungry.”
She used to get a measure of revenge when I would come into the kitchen telling her I was hungry.
She always responded the same way. “Glad to meet you hungry. I’m momma.”
I still get irritated thinking about it. Well played, mom.
My mom was one along with others who didn’t get a complete formal education while Growing Up In Bandera but they were very wise in the ways of the world in which they lived. I listened and learned many valuable lessons from them that you could never get out of a book.
Survival could possibly be one of the greatest educators of all times.
