Tag Archives: Nelda Risher

LSS: Thanks, Mom.

My mom is too sweet for her own good.
I’ve always known I was lucky to have her. As the years pass, that realization becomes deeper and deeper.
That delayed realization of gratitude is, I suppose, part of the cycle of life. Fully appreciating something just isn’t possible until you’re in that position and try to emulate. I don’t measure up to my mom in any way, shape or form. I do the best I can do, but it’s a paltry offering compared to what my mom did and continues to do for her family.
I’d like to thank my mother:
For reading to me, even when it was the same book over and over.
For cooking breakfast every morning. (How she did this baffles me to this day.)
For cooking dinner almost every night. (Like it was a religion.)
For insisting that I clean my room on Thursdays.
For taking me to church every Sunday morning, Sunday night and Wednesday night from nine months before I was born until I left for college.
For coming to my basketball games. Every single one of them (but the Port Gibson one my senior year) during the eight years I played basketball.
For giving me a safe and sturdy place to study.
For being so unbelievably consistent. (I don’t know how you did it.)
For laughing with my friends and me.
For getting to know and loving my friends, long ago and even still.
For fixing birthday cakes and having birthday parties.
For never missing one of my dad’s football games and realizing early on that my sense of direction was the one to trust in getting us there.
For believing, right there with me, that winning on a Friday night was more important than most anything except the welfare of my family these days.
For piano lessons.
For not letting me quit dance classes when I wanted to.
For taking me to family reunions.
For your telephone voice.
For keeping tight with your childhood friends and providing such a great model of friendship.
For being silly on a regular basis.
For playing Scrabble.
And Rook.
And rummy.
For rooting for underdogs everywhere.
For listening to Elvis.
For watching the Country Music Awards.
For never missing choir practice.
For having good manners and doing your best to instill those in us.
For loving Little Joe.
For taking me to rodeos.
For taking me to plays.
For being OK with my being so different from you.
For listening to my stories of places you have no interest in going.
For coming to see me in places you had never heard of.
For always using the same kind of face cream, ever night since I was 11. I cannot walk by Merle Norman anywhere without that very smell wafting through the doors and smiling to myself.
For opening your doors to strangers, time and time again. I do believe we entertained angels unawares more than once.
For loving my husband, whose name you couldn’t initially pronounce.
For offering my children a deep and solid connection to the place and people I come from. They understand and tolerate me better because of that.
For hosting wonderful family holiday events.
For coming to my children’s stuff – piano, plays, school, church, whatever.
For talking and listening to my children on the phone—for hours on end.
For the massive amounts of produce you’ve planted, grown, picked, given away and hauled to Lafayette.
For still making biscuits. And not just one pan, but two. Flat, crispy ones for me. Fat, fluffy, soft ones for my brothers.
And chicken and dumplings.
And lasagna.
And birthday cakes.
For trying to keep us all on the straight and narrow and kind to each other.
Thank you, Mom.