Karen’s Corner
By Karen Barkstrom
My mom’s birthday is Nov. 30.
Even though she’s been gone 28 years, I still “talk” to her several times a week, filling her in on what’s going on in our family, recalling some favorite memory from my childhood — just basically chatting.
My mom loved to laugh. She was a terrible joke teller — usually forgot the punchline or inadvertently combined two different jokes so it didn’t make sense. But she loved to laugh, oftentimes laughing so hard that tears would run down her cheeks and her sides would ache.
She also had the tendency to get similar-sounding words confused, often ending up in unintentionally hilarious statements. One of the best was when she was telling her bridge club about my upcoming wedding. In describing my fiance’s grandfather, who was born and raised in Lebanon, she said: “And here’s an interesting fact about Mike’s family: His grandfather was 100% lesbian.”
Mom loved high-heeled shoes, costume jewelry, Merle Norman makeup, George Beverly Shea, African violets, Christmas cactus, square dancing, ballroom dancing and Estee Lauder’s “Beautiful” perfume. A couple of years ago our oldest daughter, Tara, bought me a bottle of “Grandma’s perfume” — not that I’d ever wear it, but every once in a while I open the bottle and take a sniff. It brings back lots of great memories.
My mom was a terrific grandmother. She had a great time with our three kids. She and my dad took them on trips to Portland’s Lloyd Center, Mount Saint Helens, Mount Rainier, Northwest Trek, the Portland Zoo.
And every year when the Longview Community Church had Vacation Bible School, Grandma and Grandpa would have Tara, Tyler and Tami stay with them for the week so they could attend VBS. It was a big event, with lots of kids, lots of crafts and lots of singing. In fact, to this day, my daughters can still sing a couple of the songs they learned during VBS — and that was decades ago!
Mom did a wonderful job mothering and grandmothering — all the time battling a mental illness. And I didn’t realize that for a long time. As a kid, I guess you just accept whatever happens in your family as “normal.”
When I was a kid, there were days Mom spent in bed — sometimes four or five in a row. Dad would just say Mom wasn’t feeling well. There were other days when she slept hardly at all, and she would start “projects” like cleaning out the basement, or rearranging furniture again and again, or ordering new furniture for the whole house. During those times, Dad would just remind my brother and me to “try not to upset Mom ’cause she was feeling anxious.” And every couple of years or so, Mom would have to go to the hospital “so the doctors could help her get better.”
Did I realize anything was “wrong”? No. That was just “normal” behavior for our house. And there were all those other days when Mom was up and about (like most other moms) — going to work, cooking dinner, keeping the house clean, going square dancing with Dad.
I was probably 12 or so when Dad explained to me that Mom was “manic-depressive.” Today we call it bipolar. She’d been seeing a psychiatrist for years, and he had prescribed lithium for her to even out her mood swings, but she refused to accept the diagnosis or to take her medication.
As she got older, it seemed the episodes became less frequent. When it hit, the depression was not as intense as it had been and the manic stages all but disappeared.
I’m sad my grandkids never got to meet my mom — but I see her compassion, tenderness, love of reading, sense of humor and a little bit of stubbornness shine through each one of them.
Love you and miss you, Mom. Happy birthday.
Karen Barkstrom, The Daily World’s editorial assistant, can be reached at 360-537-3925 or kbarkstrom@thedailyworld.com.
