Mother

I could never write the many wonderful things my mother was and did,
but I will try to introduce you to one of the most loving, intelli-
gent and just plain beautiful people I have ever met. My mother,
Connie Lum Houston, came as close to perfection as one can.

She was a super grandmother. All but two of her grandchildren
lived in Florida, California and Texas. She lived in Mississippi.
When the out of state grandchildren came for a visit, she always
had his or her favorite foods. When my 8 year old came home after
visiting on his spring break, he would say, "You know, Mom, I am
Mama Connie's favorite."
I answered, "Why would you say that?"
He replied, "Because she always makes my favorite foods."
I said, "That's interesting because she does exactly the
same for all of her grandchildren." And that is what she
did. I read in her journal that she loved to cook for her
family, especially the grandchildren. That was the way she
was. She loved all of us fiercely. Of course, I knew this
without reading her journal.

Another thing that was so terrific about my mom was that she
loved unconditonally. No matter what my sisters did, she was
always there to pick them up, dust them off and send them on
their way back to their lives. Once the crisis was over,
she did not nag or remind them of their indiscretions.
She just waited until the next crisis and helped them out
again.

I am the oldest, and I rarely got myself into any sticky
situations. In fact, my three sisters called me "Miss Perfect"
behind my back. I did not know this until recently. I don't
remember which one told me, but it did sort of bother me.
I felt just a little left out.

Mother never stopped learning. She was just 16 when she
married my dad; he was 23. (My grandmother Houston, my
dad's mom, took mother under her wing and taught her
everything she needed to be a good wife and mother.
My parents lived with her until I was 5 or 6 years old;
after that she lived with us.) She read every book we
brought home from school and the library. When I was a
teenager, she joined a book club, and we all read those.

One of my favorite memories is the time I sent her
a complete set of J. R. R. Tolkien's books. One night
my dad was just a little jealous of her time and wanted
her to come to bed. She replied, "I can't. My hobbit is
in trouble and I have to get him out." This was
a 69 year old lady who loved reading anything that was
well written and she showed it

The point I'm trying to make about Mother is that she
could do anything, whether it was fixing the toaster,
repairing the washing machine, referring a dispute be
-tween her children, or making sure her girls were emo-
tionally okay.

I can remember playing with her gold watch and some-
thing would happen to it. I would leave it where I found
it, and the next time I found it repaired. When I
played with it and broke it again, she would fix
it once more. She never mentioned these incidents. I
was always so relieved that she would fix what I broke,
put it back in the proper place and never say a word to
me. I never thought to thank her.

For as long as I can remember, she has been my ideal.
She was my mother, my teacher, and most of all my friend.
I could tell her anything and she would lovingly guide me.