Remembering Mom

Mom passed away July 31, 2013. The Memorial Service was on August 24, 2013. It's taken a year for me to be able to write about this. We had a nice gathering of friends and family with beautiful music at my church in Marietta, Georgia. I think Mom would have loved it and would have been quite surprised. Below is a beautiful tribute written by my sister Betsy. Rest in Peace Mom. I miss you so very much.

My Mom – Eulogy for Memorial Service on August 24, 2013

I learned most of what I needed to know about life as a little girl in the backseat of a metallic pine green, 1972 Ford Maverick being chauffeured by my mother. For me, the Maverick was freedom. Climbing in signaled the start of an adventure into the world outside of home. It took us to parks, schools, churches, stores, and libraries. The Maverick was ice cream and grand parents, books and swimming pools, the Jackson 5 and CocaCola. And always, mom was in the driver’s seat. As you know, we’re here to remember her. She’s the real maverick in this story.

I was reminded of this when I spoke to my brother Cliff after our mom's passing. The term “maverick” is applied to those who are fiercely independent and those who defy convention. My mother was a maverick because that’s how she lived. If my brother, Cliff, were standing here, I think he would tell you, like he told me, that mom was a force to be reckoned with. She thought freely and read voraciously. She did whatever she wanted and she said whatever she wanted, and she was all the more charming for it. Cliff would also describe our mom’s deep faith and the rules that she simply wouldn't break, like “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” and “Love your neighbor as yourself.”

He might also tell you that, as a cook, my mom was especially unconventional. When mom stepped into the kitchen, she stepped boldly where no man had even gone before. Her techniques were innovative; her flavor profiles imaginative, and the results were simply astounding – astounding, confounding, and sometimes horrific. With great love, at holiday meals she offered up Manischewitz wine and cool glasses of V8, sauerkraut chocolate cake, fruit cocktail-filled hamburger, homemade holiday fruitcakes, and recreated dinner menus from 1970s cookbook photographs. Our mom, she could steam a ham, and biscuits.

My sister, Marjorie, she would share stories of mom’s enormous heart and generous, loving spirit. She would tell you about the plastic gloves and garbage bags that mom stored in the trunk of the Maverick. Mom used these as an emergency burial kit for animals that had been struck by cars because she just couldn’t bear the thought of any harm coming to animals. My sister would also tell you that if our mom only had two dimes she would give them both to you.

Marjorie would also tell you that she'll miss all of the little thoughtful and funny things our mother did. In recent years, our mom was homebound. Still, she was immensely proud of being grandmother to Galen, Benjamin, and Sarah and staid connected, mostly by mail. Mom loved to write letters. Each one was like a puzzle, filled with multiple notes and newspaper clippings that could be pieced together to tell a full story. She’d send heartfelt and lovely gifts, and she gave gifts intended to cultivate our better natures or a sense of culture and history, like the 2,000-page book of Scottish chieftains that she gave Galen when he was eight years old. He’s still working on that. And, it was not unlikely for mom to send a thank you card for a thank you card.

Me, I'll tell you that, on the matter of our mother, everything my older brother and sister say is correct. I’d also like to share how playful my mom could be. She was funny and no stranger to joy and delight. She loved to surprise us. I would tell you about Christmas 1976 – the greatest Christmas of my life -- when I found a kitten, Dixie T. Thomas, hidden in her closet. On Christmas morning, she zipped the kitten up, inside of her brown terry cloth jumpsuit to surprise me. And, she did. Dixie broke free and crawled around her body, causing her to collapse in laughter on the living room floor. I would tell you how much she loved Chanel No. 5, ginger candy, and her music -- which ranged from show tunes to Doris Day, Louis Prima and Keely Smith, and Carol King. Often, if she forgot the lyrics to an old song, she would call Marjorie to retrieve them from the Internet, print them out, and send them to her.

Lastly, I'll tell you this: my mother was born June Rembert Kremser in Charleston, South Carolina. That’s not an insignificant fact. If this is new information to you, remember it. She was a homesick Charlestonian who spent most of her life in exile, living in Atlanta. Mom, as you wish, we will take you home.

My mother knew life was amazing, and she taught us this. She also taught us love, empathy, curiosity, wonder, respect, kindness, and humor. Mom, we love you so much and wish we had more time together. We will cherish all of the great memories and let you continue to drive us where we need to go. We'll even miss your cooking.