Family
Perspectives on Parenting©
by Nancy Lambert Davenport


Nancy Davenport's Column:
For Richardson News 05-14-00
Copyright Nancy Lambert Davenport 2000


"Moms in the 'hood raised assortment o neighbors' kids, too"


I did not grow up in the Beaver Cleaver's neighborhood, but I think what I had was better. My mother had her master's degree in library science, and I know, many hot San Antonio afternoons, she would rather have been cataloguing a rare books library than supervising her three children. Happily for us, though, she was always home, and it never crossed my mind at the time that she would want to be elsewhere.

My father was fifty when I was born and in a way often seemed surprised that we were there when the three of us stormed into the house. There was an eighteen-year difference in the age of my parents. It was what I knew, so to me was normal.

I didn't see my friends' dads very much. They worked long days, had the family car with them, and came home just in time to sit down for dinner. Dads just didn't play a big part in our lives. It was the moms who were always there.

I remember being impressed by my friend Bob's mother, who lived across the street. She could wind her body in a pretzel-like knot to get her eyes close to her toenails to paint them.

Another friend Mike, whose mother had a living room from which we were absolutely forbidden to enter, lived next door. As a child visiting there, I wondered why anyone would want to go into that old room anyway with all its ugly furniture and tapestries on the walls, but then of course I wanted to go in because it was not allowed.

One day I walked into that end of their house and saw an elderly gentlemen sitting in the forbidden room. I hastened to tell him that no one was allowed in there, but he assured me that he had been given permission.

When Mike's mother found me standing at the edge of the room she invited me to step into the restricted area and meet our neighbor, General Jonathan Wainwright. She called him Skinny. To this day when I read about the history of the Philippines during World War II and see his name, I remember that moment and that forbidden room.

My friend Susan's mother bustled. She was short and wide with a voice that was high pitched like a man talking in falsetto. Susan had a propensity for saying things that were outrageous to which her mother consistently but quietly protested with the offer of a bowl of chocolate ice cream.

Then there was Sandy's mother who lived behind us. She always wore jeans (before jeans were in style) and a straw hat and had a pigeon coop in the back yard from which the birds soared in circles over all our houses day after day. We were not encouraged to play with Sandy and his three brothers who were "a little wild."

My friend Sarah's mother was the cook at the big house on the next street over. She was a widow, and the two of them lived together in a neat little apartment off the big kitchen. Sarah's mother wore an apron, always smelled like starch, and was the only one who could get the giant green bird to talk, which lived in a cage on the patio.

On some summer evenings when the wind was from the north and as I lay in bed trying to go to sleep, I could hear him squawk from our house and knew that Sarah's mother was standing in the dark talking to him again.

My mother of course had a strong and wonderful impact on my every day life as I grew up, but these other mothers certainly made their contributions. I guess I would not be the person I am without them even though my time with each of them was limited. It's something I like to keep in mind when I am around my children's friends. I never know when I might create a good memory for one of them or influence them in some way. It makes me want to be on my best behavior.

One thing I appreciate about the other mothers who were part of my life when I was growing up is that they expected to be part of me. I was a welcome in their homes and lives and as a result they were welcome in mine.

So I am grateful for all the mothers who helped raise me and who have helped my own children grow up. None of us would be the same without them, so today I wish them all a very happy Mothers' Day.


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Nancy Lambert Davenport
EMAIL: ndavenport@ticnet.com
URL: http://www.nancyldavenport.com