I imagine being a housewife in the 1960’s was a pretty monotonous job. Sure there was cleaning, laundry, food preparation, and shopping, but beyond that, many women watched soap operas, took up tennis, or gardened in the yard to stay mentally engaged. Mom’s love was projects. Once she had an idea, she would dive into it head first and be a cyclone of energy pursuing her goal. There were three that I remember her doing when I was growing up. One was panelling the living room and hallway of our house. In the 60’s, someone came up with the invention of using pressed wood products and printing a wood look pattern on it so it could look like real wood panels. Every common living area wall in our house was panelled except the kitchen. The Den, Living Room, Hallway, and Dining Room all had the vertical wall covering. (The only room that had actual wood panels was our Library which was built in the 50’s.) These panels came in 4′ X 8′ sheets and came in a variety of faux wood colors from rough-hewn blonde, to shiny dark oak. Mom decided she was going to install the panelling and so every day we came home from school more and more of the rooms were done. Eventually she required the help of a carpenter who came by to do the finish work, but she did it without the help of by any of us or Dad. Another one she tackled was a cookbook. Not any cookbook mind you, but one that was innovative in the information that was included, and the way they were stored and accessed. The information not only included the standard recipe instructions and ingredients on plastic-coated flip cards, but also the cost per person, the actual time for preparation, and a quality rating. The quality rating was a “scientific” survey that was done when she served every dish. For the most part, we were all her guinea pigs. So for a period of about two years, Mom served us a diet of eclectic food that we had to rate every night. She would gather the results and go on to the next recipe. I remember smelling the roast at the Ward’s house and hinting to him I’d like to eat over because I knew Mom was serving Coq au Vin, which I was sure to hate and give a thumbs down to. When Robin and I were married years later, Mom surprised us with a set of the cookbooks, which we cherish today. The third project I remember was the establishment of a Youth Hostel chain in the US. It was based on the hostels found in Europe at the time, because  she saw how difficult it was for youngsters travelling in the US to find a cheap and safe place to sleep at night. She did floor plans, estimated the cost of running each hostel, and even tried to decide where the inexpensive inns would go around the country. In all these projects, she put her whole soul into it. She made graphs, charts, and worked late into the night. I always went to bed before her. It was not unusual to see her slaving away at two o’clock in the morning, Carlton cigarette in mouth, cold coffee on the card table, surrounded by a dozen well-labelled binders, writing notes with her mechanical pencil.  

 As she got older, Mom continued to always have a passionate project in the works. She became a bookkeeper, and found interest in growing marijuana, leading naturist clubs, and even became a professional masseuse, becoming well-known for her original strokes which she demonstrated around the world at workshops, in videos, and publications. I often ask myself, how did Mom get to be a “pioneer woman?” She seemed fearless, adventurous, and willing to push herself to make the world a better place. The answer I come up with is a combination of necessity, a Kansas upbringing by a couple of enterprising parents, and the confidence she had in herself to make a difference. There’s a bit of Mom’s personality in Robin. I believe that’s what intrigued me when I first saw her, and why I continue to enjoy her company every day.