Family legend has it that, when my mother was growing up, her mother warned, “don’t learn to milk the cow, else you’ll have to do it every day.” Maybe that’s why Mom never learned how to drive a truck, much to my father’s disappointment, fearing that it would become a regular task.
But she did pretty much everything else.
Early in their marriage, Dad worked in construction in the summers and was a mechanic at Ortel and later Franchi Chevrolet in Boulder during the winters. Mom did bookwork for the dealerships as well. Eventually they got into trucking, hauling cattle for local ranchers, many of whom became lifelong friends. Dad was proud to haul rodeo stock for Mike and Peggy Quinn, and to help them put on rodeos.
Later they bought a truck to haul Lucky Lager beer to Butte, beginning their long-haul trucking life. If you stopped by the house in those years, you’d find Mom sitting at the counter working on bookwork, with the coffee on. Everything then was hand-written, yet she was never a penny off in the bank or a mile off on a fuel report. The drivers, mechanics and office staff became family, often invited into the house for lunch or dinner while she wrote their paychecks.
Mom was a humble person and didn’t like to be flashy at all. She had come from very little and worked hard throughout her life. When we were growing up, our family never had to wonder what was for dinner: She always cooked great meals for us and whomever happened to be there at mealtime. Mom and Dad raised three kids, Kathy, Don, and me, with 17 years between the oldest and youngest. Dad passed in early June of 2005 and Kathy followed him in death later that month from cancer.
Following Dad’s death, at least prior to Covid-19, it could be a challenge to catch Mom at home. It was usually best to check the Jefferson High sports schedule: She loved watching and cheering at Panther games, whether she knew the players or not. Basketball was likely her favorite, but football and volleyball were close behind. At most home games, you would find her watching and visiting with a new or old friend, and she was honored as a fan of the year not too long ago. We don’t believe Mom or Dad ever voted against any levy for schools in Boulder; their philosophy was simply, anything the kids need.
Mom also enjoyed music, and even though she didn’t drink, she’d gladly go to The Windsor or Phil and Tim’s to listen to whomever was playing. She enjoyed music in the park and the county fair; being a former 4-H leader she knew the benefits of that program for the kids. She’d try almost anything, even tooling around the hills in her later years with her dear friend Jenny in Jenny’s side-by-side.
Mom was an independent person who didn’t want to rely on anyone to help; in her view there were other people that needed help more than her. As her health failed, her living alone became a concern for her family, and while her friends did an outstanding job of checking in on her, we felt it best to have her move to Bear Grass. Those close to her knew how fiscally conservative she was, and it took a great deal of convincing to get her to move. In the end, I had to quit chewing tobacco to get her to agree. I held to that promise, but early this past summer, Mom was doing quite well and mentioned that she would like to move back to her home. I said: “That sounds good. Why don’t you start gathering your things, and I will run to the store and buy a can of chew? I’ll be back to get you.” She shook her fist and said, “that danged deal I made with you, it came back to haunt me! I guess I’ll just stay here.”
In fact, Mom was very happy at Bear Grass and knew it was the best place for her final days. She enjoyed visiting with the other residents, visitors as well as the staff. She enjoyed it when friends or family would pick her up to get her out of the house to go to dinner or just for a ride. We’re grateful to those who were friends of Mom’s through the years, taking her on adventures, to games, and for being there.
Our family was amazed and humbled at how many came to remember Mom at her memorial, including many former employees. It truly was a celebration of her life and a beautiful day, and we want to thank Gail and her crew for making the luncheon so special. Mary wouldn’t have wanted any “fuss” about her, but it provided closure for many.
Those who knew Mom likely remember, “Hello, kid” as her greeting when they saw her. So many have commented that not seeing her and hearing her say that has left a void in their lives. She was simply one of a kind.
