Who can really describe their Mother?

By

Gerry Niskern

My mother was the sixth daughter of Austrian immigrants. The family then added four boys. Back then in large families, the burden of helping out at home fell to the youngest girl. She scrubbed clothes on the washboard, gathered loose coal in a gunny sack along the railroad track every day for the stove and often carried a fussy baby brother around on her hip.

As soon as mom was big enough she dragged the large wash tub into the kitchen and helped fill it with steaming water when she saw her dad come trudging up the street from the mine. She then stood by to wash his back, black with coal dust.

In between chores, she earned spending money by scrubbing floors for a neighbor lady and caddying at the local country club.

This mother of mine, who never had an Easter dress or a Christmas toy, was determined that her two daughters have it all. We had the hair ribbons and pretty dresses. We had the cute shoes and music lessons. We had the dolls and toys that she never had.  We had the birthday and Halloween  parties and ample time to play with friends.

Best of all, she had time to play with us. We played Rummy and Monopoly, hide and seek and croquet. She went sled riding and had snow ball fights with us in the winter.

And when her grandchildren came along, even while helping to run a business, she played harder. She took them hiking in the Arizona desert and strawberry picking at Glendale farms in the spring. At rodeo time Mom made sure she had little chairs lined up along Central Ave for the start of each parade, along with cocoa and donuts if it was a cold day.

When each grandkid turned four they received a pack of bubble gum with the announcement, “Now you are old enough to learn to blow bubbles.” And she insisted they could learn to whistle at four too.

But along with all the fun came ample doses of common sense and civility. The one cardinal rule from her parents was,”Be kind to old people and those who are less fortunate than you.” A rule she always practiced in her dealings with the young Mexican women who worked in my parent’s small manufacturing shop.

That’s how I remember my mother, this daughter of immigrants.

Yard Sales

By

Gerry Niskern

Springs here! It’s the season. Do those of us living here in the valley get to see budding leaves and citrus blossoms? No. As we drive through the neighborhoods we’re treated to dresses and shirts flapping in the breeze, marked 50 cents to couple of dollars.  You’re not going to believe this, but I even discovered, in front of  a million-dollar house, used socks and underwear for sale. Racks with used items are set up on the driveway.  Their children are there too; selling tables full of toys.

I will admit, I was taken by surprise the first time I saw the kiddie business people. Then I read an article in the Financial Education section. The piece was entitled “Yard sales a way to teach children many lessons.”  The writer then proceeded to explain how the kids could display their used toys attractively. There were pricing suggestions and a lesson in how to deal with a customer who wants a discount.  The reader was assured his children would soon be on their way to becoming successful entrepreneurs.

What’s happened to our society? We all know the majority of children in this country are showered with toys on Christmas and birthdays. Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t one of the most important virtues we were taught to cultivate within ourselves as children called charity. You remember charity; defined in Webster’s as: “the voluntary giving to those in need.”

Much is being espoused these days about teaching moral values and volumes have been written on virtues. Still, the best way to teach is by example.

My mother had a rule in our home when I was growing up. “You never sell a gift.” When you no longer use it and wish to dispose of it, you look around and give it to someone less fortunate.

Perhaps her policy of giving to those in need came from having been there. . When she was a child there were no toys at Christmas or new dresses at Easter time.  She was determined that her daughter’s would enjoy a more carefree childhood. However, she also saw to it that we were taught to remember people in need.

There has been a movement in the last decade to fault the poor for not “pulling themselves up by their own bootstraps.” The truth is, there are many people having a hard time making ends meet these days. They are unskilled or unlucky. Minimum wage hardly buys necessities, let alone extras.

Have you ever been to a Salvation Army, Goodwill or other discard store? Even better, have you taken your child with you?  Have you seen a family shopping for clothes and household items, even nursery necessities?  The children head straight for the toy shelves. They hug the used and worn toys to their chest, their eyes searching for Mom or Dad.    It goes without saying that an occasional estate or moving sale is necessary, but come on; giving isn’t just for Christmastime. People in need are all around us every day. There are certain periods of life that are more suited to nurturing charitable traits…childhood is one of them. In these days of affluence, let’s teach our children the way of the heart, not the purse.

HAVE YOU BEEN TO A BASEBALL GAME LATELY?

By

GERRY NISKERN

When he first started coming to our house to spend the night the baseball game could start before bedtime. Our living room was Niskern Field. The bases were all the sofa pillows and the Nerf ball and bat were required equipment. He could imitate all the pitchers on the Diamond Backs. And he had the batting stance of the other players down pretty good too.  When the game was finally called for night time,  it was  understood that it would continue bright and early the next morning.

His great-grandpa was the pitcher and I was the catcher, and of course, he was the constant batter. We never even got a turn. These games started when he was around three and have never stopped.

He was signed up for a pee wee team when he was three and his parent’s job was just beginning. They are the ones that drove him to practice and coached in the early years. His dad helped prepare many fields before the games. His mother manned the refrestment stands or brought the team snacks. They spent mega bucks on ball clubs over the years and traveled out of state to many games. He had an opportunity to  play and improve year after year.

His mother used enough bleach to easily fill the Grand Canyon keeping the white uniforms clean and ready for each game. She also had to keep an eye out for the younger sister playing behind the bleachers, except when she wasn’t raining mom’s purse for money for the snack stand.

He’s just finishing up his second year for the Pumas of Paradise Valley College. He is a great hitter, terrific third baseman and relief pitcher. He’ll be going on to a major university or college next year to play for their team.

I’ve probably seen him playing for the last time. It’s a little to hot for me, but we’ve had a great run!