Tell a story about your mom

Oh how I wish I could see my mom today. She passed 10 years ago.

We all have different stories. Tell one about what she did for you that stands out to help you mature and develop.

I told one on the radio Friday morning that is a little unusual. I’m curious as to if anyone heard it or remembers it. I actually told one that was a little scary and another one that was kind of funny.

I’m the little guy on her knee. I’m guessing this photo was taken about 1958 when I was about 4.

My mother had quite a sense of humor. We had a family get-together in July one year that was called Christmas in July. Part of the weekend was devoted to a trip to the low water bridge on Elk River (between Pineville and Ginger Blue). Mother and Daddy dressed up in vintage swim suits. I’m not sure that my young cousin knew quite what to make of her.

So many because moms sacrifice so much.

I think back when she would take me to Travelers games, fishing, Razorback games and other events.

Guess one of my fondest memories was going to the back yard and she kneeling on a pillow to catch me when I was playing teeny league. That after working all day at her factory job and cooking dinner.

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Well my my really wasnt a funny type person, she was very loving, very Godly, very serious person, she was so busy with her job raising us three boneheaded boys :slightly_smiling_face:.
Because of her work schedule bein from can to way past can’t everydayand all three boys being heavily involved in sports she wouldn’t be able to tell you a touchdown from a home run :slightly_smiling_face: but I guess something kind of humorous is that she could make my football games because they were at night and she told me more than one time, I just came to make sure you were getting up off that pile every time :joy::joy: because she didn’t have a clue what she was looking at bless her heart.

That’s true. I was raised in a strict,household. Everything was yes sir and no mam, be seen and not heard, and any grade less than an A was difficult to discuss. In hind sight, I’m sure my parents were raised in the same way. That said, my mother is 95. She has always been there. She is the only constant for all my years. She always sounds happy to hear my voice. And, I will miss her presence terribly when she passes, and I’m so thankful we’re at a point where I can help her. xo

So many great memories of my late mom and dad, but one that sticks out is me going to her first to tell her I wanted to be a sports writer and not take over the family farm.

This was as I was going into my senior year at Newport when the new sports editor was not going to be able to arrive until August. So instead of working on the farm every summer as I had, I was the sports editor from May until August.

The way she went with me to tell my dad, whose dream it was for me to work on and then take over the farm, was glorious. I barely had to do any talking. She was extremely smart, kind and compassionate and made the case for why I should be able to go out on my own.

You can also probably tell from the photo where I got the cocky smirk.

That is a great picture, Dudley. Is that a wedding or anniversary picture?

Dudley, you were the Orville Henry of the Newport paper at age 17? That is wild.

She was a very attractive lady.

I have several mom stories.

The first was when I was in second grade. I would have been 7. We’d made it with just one car, a station wagon until then. My mom would take my dad to work just after lunch, then a neighbor who worked nights at the paper, would bring him home after midnight. So my mom pretty much raised four boys. Not saying my dad wasn’t around, but my mom did the discipline for the most part.

She was tough and didn’t take much off any one of us. We got whippings. She was firm in the neighborhood (Westmont Circle in Meadowcliff). The boys in the neighborhood did as she said. And, she was firm to the neighbors that they keep control of their pets.

There were a few loose cats, some of whom no one claimed. Not sure how that worked, but they were troublesome.

When I was in second grade, we finally got a second car. It was a special gift to my mom, a white Impala convertible. At least that’s what I believe it was. She also had a Nova convertible at one point. There were red ones and white ones.

The one for this story was white, with white leather seats. It was pretty sweet. My mom loved it.

There was one cat that caused trouble for my mom. It would test it’s claws on the convertible top. We had a car port, open on two sides. No garage.

One morning – and my two older brothers were away at camp – the cat had a litter in the front seat of my mom’s car. She was furious. I heard new words.

She got a burlap sack and I held it as she dumped in cats. The mother cat went in, too.

It was tossed in the back seat and I joined the sack. We went over the Arkansas River bridge downtown and my mom had me chunk it. It was all I could do to get it out the car and over the concrete railing. I can still see a wiggling sack go over the top out of the convertible and yes the top was down.

Interestingly, that event was never discussed again. I did tell my brothers when they got home in a few days, but they advised that I stop telling it.

The other story was about her teaching me to dance. I was a sophomore – not old enough to drive) when an older girl (a LR Central Hi Stepper no less) asked me to go to a dance. I was on the basketball team and it was a dance after a game. I wouldn’t need to take her to the game, but I’d have to get her home after the dance.

My two older brothers started laughing as soon as they heard about it. They knew I was going to have to have waltz lessons and would also need a driver to get the girl home. It would be my mom in both cases. My mom gave me lessons for about 10 nights in the kitchen with waltz music. It was awful. I cannot waltz to this day. The funny part, we all knew there would be no waltz music played at the dance.

So it all went fine and my mom picked us up after the dance. We took the girl home and I walked her to the door. I gave her a peck on the cheek and hustled back to the car, mostly glad it was all over.

I got back in the car and my mom was glaring at me. What was that? A peck on the cheek. You gotta kiss them on the lips. I might have if she hadn’t been in the car watching, I said. It was pretty funny in retrospect, but not so funny then.

I got home and my brothers asked if I kissed her on the lips and if mom had watched. I said, no. They started laughing. Apparently, they had heard that speech before, if not in the same circumstances at least at one point or another after or before a date.

When I was very young after we got electricity, mom enjoyed watching “rasslin” on I believe Saturday mornings on one of the three channels we received after getting a television. She would yell and really carry on and was ready to scrap with anyone if they suggested it was fake. She liked it so well we started making a regular weekly trek to Robinson Auditorium (100 miles round trip) on Tuesday nights to see the likes of Danny Hodge, Sputnik Monroe, and occasionally Lou Thez. She always got seats as close to the ring as possible. One night I was on an aisle seat and with the crowd jeering Sputnik walked right beside me and stopped. I said something to him and he replied to me with language you don’t normally hear used in polite company. Mom heard him and essentially jumped over me to get in the aisle and picked up my chair with the intent to clock him with it. He quickly took off on down the aisle and some other people jumped in to get mom quieted down…quite the spectacle but hilarious

funniest story I’ve ever heard about my mom was soon after her and dad had married they moved to Booneville,Arkansas(dad’s hometown)now understand that mom was from Norwalk,Connecticut which was and still is a "suburb"of New York City…anyway as they were going to bed one night mom heard screaming …several times…she turned to dad and asked if he was going to call the police about the screaming and dad said couldn’t understand why dad wouldn’t call when he was the assistant district attorney for South Logan County.she was getting really mad and concerned that someone was getting hurt rolled over in the bed and told her to go to sleep…it was a cow looking for its calf that how somehow wandered off earlier in the night…that story was always told at family reunions up into the 1980s when mom finally got tired of being the butt of the joke…


A couple of stories about my mom.

She was very PROUD to be from Arkansas. Fighting proud. Born at Palatka, near Corning. She was a 1947 Business Grad of the UA. Moving forward to the summer of 1986, she was slowly dying of lung and brain cancer and I wanted her to see the campus one last time. As we toured the mostly empty campus after visiting her name on the sidewalk in front of Old Main, we met a young lady walking towards sorority row. She happened to be the current president of my mom’s sorority and gave us a tour of the house including my mom’s old room. It was a great treat. As a man of faith, I have always felt in my heart that was no sheer coincidence.

Second story. I only remember her cussing once in my life. She found a snake in the garage and was yelling and cussing at the top of her voice drawing the entire community. She was terrified of snakes. My buddy from next door picked up the snake with his bare hands resulting in my mom fainting into my dad’s arms. It turned out the snake was my buddy’s pet king snake.

Not a day goes by that I don’t fondly remember my parents and their countless sacrifices for their children. I have often prayed for the Good Lord to allow them to see their grandchildren which they never had the pleasure to meet. I think they would be proud.


Even though I was short and skinny and not real fast I decided to play football in Junior High school. My dad was dead set against it but mom talked him into allowing me to play. By the 8th grade I was not starting but playing quite a bit. Being small and fearless I came up on the losing end of many blows and had to be helped to the sidelines fairly often. My biggest fear was not being hurt but was getting hurt and mom coming on the field to check on me. So prior to every game I made mom promise NOT to come on the field if I got injured. She would reluctantly promise.

Skip ahead 40 years (or so) later. Me and my wife attended every Benton High School football game (this is in the 90’s). Mom came with us fairly often and absolutely loved watching the games. One Friday night one of our Panther kids was hurt and laying out on the field. His mom appeared out of the stands and ran onto the field to check on him. Suddenly mom punches me on the arm and says “see Danny he lets his mom come on the field to check on him”…

Oh how I miss my mom.


A story about my mom, huh?..

Well, she was an ill-tempered, mean-spirited bitch. Our relatives and neighbors generally avoided our family because of her toxic personality.

Then the most amazing thing happened just after she turned 79; she developed Alzheimer’s disease (the fast-acting kind). In just weeks, she went from berating everyone in her path to a warm, kind person … though she had no idea who any of us were. This amazing transformation lasted just under a year before her body simply quit functioning and she died.

I don’t often think about my mother; but when I do, I generally drift towards that last year. For sure I wish there had been more of those.

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