Getting by with spunk and a spark

“It isn’t just talent. You have to have something else. You have to have a kind of nerve.” 

— Georgia O’Keeffe 

Today is my mother’s birthday, celebrating 89 years on this patch of Earth.

A month or so ago I commented on an old picture of her with my dad, saying, “Look how beautiful you are!”  

Without a second’s hesitation, she said, “Oh, no, I was not. I was never beautiful. But when you aren’t beautiful, you have to have something else. I had a spunk and a spark and nothing was going to hold me back!” 

She had the “fake it ’til you make it” attitude long before anyone had put that plan into words. At 15, she was sunning herself on the dock at her neighbor’s farm pond with a “truly beautiful” girlfriend when my father came to help his aunt on that farm. “I had never seen him before but I could tell even from a distance he was so handsome that I would sure like to see him again.” 

So, she ignored him. But she ignored him with flair. “From that day on, that whole summer, I planned my schedule to sun myself on that dock with my girlfriend when that fellow might be there to help his aunt.” 

In other words, she ignored him spectacularly every chance she got. When he brought his cousin along one day, it was the cousin who had the more forward personality to come to the dock to introduce himself.  

It turned out the girl who continued to ignore him was the type of girl my father favored. If she had come on too strong, he would have retreated. His cousin set up a date with my mother’s best friend, and invited my mother and father along. It seemed to be destiny, but the cool indifference of one young girl made all the difference. 

After they married, it could have been a lonely existence for the newlywed “outsider” who moved to my father’s tight-knit community. But it was my mom who introduced herself to neighbors and invited other young farm couples to visit.

She saw a man at the local market and asked him his name and if his wife liked to play cards. Matt and Shirley, who it turned out loved to play cards as much as my mom did, became great friends to my parents. Shirley, a true friend for life, still visits my mom every week.

 “We all were poor but didn’t know it. We were happy and working hard to build our families and our farms,” Mom says, with a grin. They all were so young, yet seemed so in control, set on the right path and determined to succeed.

 I always thought of my mother as beautiful, so her argument against it struck me so by surprise. It prompted me to question everything else. “So, were you really not as sure of yourself as it always seemed?” I asked. 

She laughed, in that unexpected way that prompts a knee slap along with the laughter. “I had no idea what I was doing! But I did a pretty good job of fooling you, didn’t I?

 “Remember how I told you to choke up on the baseball bat, to step into the swing?” she asked me. “I was faking all of that bravado, too,” she added.  

I was stumped. “So, did you really break your collarbone three times playing baseball with the boys when you were a kid?” I asked. “Oh, yes. I sure did. I just told myself ‘You’ve gotta have the guts to try to outplay them!’ A few broken bones was well worth it. I’d do it all again!” Mom said with a chuckle. 

So, the next time I find myself overcome with shy uncertainty, I will remember this conversation with my mother, the woman who held her head high, always, and could snap us all on the straight and narrow with just a sideways glance. A raised eyebrow, and we were toast.