Darrell Simmerman Poet Prose

More than Oatmeal

	This telling is about a gift.  The gift includes oatmeal, but the real story is very much more.    	
        Mom had been farm-raised during the Depression and had little.   Her father, to me ‘Grandad’,  with ‘Grandmother’ had lived frugally and saved enough to buy a farm and then a house in town, with cash.  As WWII loomed, she went to college, then taught for 8 years.  After the war, Dad and Mom married and she took a hiatus of 10 years to have and to help Dad marshal the 5 siblings in our family.  She would return to teach another 30 years.  With her dual jobs, Mom always got the least amount of sleep.  
        At age 10 and both early morning risers, she’d get me up at our usual 5 AM to begin delivery of newspapers before school which began at 8.  I’d finish my pre-school studies by 7:30 before my ‘trash duties’ and then the walk of 3 blocks to school in our town of 2000 Christian souls.  
        Mom kept a tight accounting of the time and taught me to do so as well. She was proud that I ended up with an 8-year record for school attendance, interrupted only by a case of MUMPS when I was in the 4th grade.
  	In those days there were no instant oats and no microwave.  It was required to bring the water in the pan to a boil with its pinch of salt, then add the measured cup of raw oats followed by clock-watching the instructed 10 minutes to bring it to readiness for serving, …but…only after adding brown sugar and raisins that I liked.  As we ate, we’d share our time, the day’s schedule, our beliefs and hopes.  Mom made it all great as she mentored me.  
  	Sometimes she would decide to take me in the car if it was stormy or cold.   We’d continue our time together; Mom with one of her sons, continuing to share devotional time discussing things that mattered.  She’d often sing a favorite hymn, 
"In the Garden", or other, and sometimes listen to Dad’s "Old Rugged Cross" on the radio.  Mom was truly one of the Greatest Generation the world has known.  
       These days, I sometimes have oatmeal the way she fixed it and remember what Mom meant to me and remember the “Gift of Time Together” that Mom gave to me, and to pass on to my family.
  	Elva Fern, aka Mother, later aka ‘Mom’, mentored me well.   
        I still get up at 5 AM.

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