Grit, Grace, and Gumption: Moms of the '60s

   𝙂𝙧𝙞𝙩, 𝙂𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙂𝙪𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣: 𝙈𝙤𝙢𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 '𝟲𝟬𝙨

    Growing up in Ogdensburg in the ‘60s and ‘70s, there was a particular breed of woman that ruled the roost with an iron fist, a can of Aqua Net, and an unshakable sense of propriety.

   Our mothers.

   These were women who could wipe leftover spaghetti sauce off your face with a single, well-aimed, spit-wetted thumb, then host a dinner party with the same unflinching grace. They knew how to make an Old Fashioned and a perfect gravy. They were tough, but they were also ladies—emphasis on the capital "L." A mom in Ogdensburg wouldn’t be caught dead out in public without her hair done, makeup on, and looking like she might be expecting a Vogue photographer to jump out from behind the produce section at P&C.

   And hey, you never knew.

   Many of them smoked like Humphrey Bogart and liked their mixed drinks, but their houses were kept so spotless you could perform open-heart surgery on the kitchen floor. Their social status was monitored with the precision of an intelligence agency. Reputation was everything, and a single lapse—a kid seen misbehaving at the supermarket, an unkempt lawn, a store-bought pie at a bake sale—could lead to whispered post-mass gossip sessions that could make or break them. There are rumors some kids were orphaned; their moms being exiled to somewhere in Quebec for grosser violations.

   They were the queens of mixed drinks and dinner parties. Skirts, heels, and up-dos. They knew the fine line between classy and cheap and wielded that knowledge like a weapon. They could pack lunches, vacuum the house, do a load of whites, and light a Pall Mall all before noon. Visits at least once weekly to the “beauty parlor” for a permanent were standard.

   And heaven help you if you crossed one of them.

   These were not modern, "let's discuss your feelings" moms. The only feeling you’d be discussing was how warm your butt was going to be. They ruled with the swift and unquestioned authority of a third-world dictator. Kids were raised with either a flying shoe, a broom handle, or—in my case—a yardstick, as a guide to best behavior. The wooden spoon wasn’t for stirring sauce, it was for stirring fear. And if you got in trouble at school, there was no indignant march to the principal’s office to demand answers. Nope. You, the kid, were to blame, not the teacher. And rest assured, the punishment you got at school would pale in comparison to what awaited you when you got home.

   Ogdensburg moms believed in two things: discipline and presentation. You might have just gotten a whack with a hairbrush for mouthing off, but by God, you were going to look good while it happened.

   They had sense, so lacking today; they loved us enough to discipline us.

   It’s easy to get flustered with our parents growing up -they don’t know what it’s like to be young. They’re dumb. They don’t understand. I won’t get caught.

   Yeah. Sure.

   There’s a saying parents love to tell their kids: "The older you get, the smarter I become."

   For those unfamiliar with parental wisdom, this roughly translates to: "One day, my child, you will realize how full of crap you were."

   And damned if it isn’t true.

   No, our mothers might not have had the same experiences we had, but they had experiences we didn’t want to have. They had harder times. They had their hearts broken, their dreams shattered, and their own struggles with their parents. They raised kids, kept marriages together (or didn’t), ran households, and still made it to church looking like they just stepped off the set of Mad Men.

   They were onto your tricks, too. You’re too sick to go to school? Ha! My mother would have sent me in an ambulance. You were sleeping over at your friend’s, the one she wouldn’t object to? She found out you were somewhere else. Mothers have powers of observation not seen in the most exotic animals in nature, psychic really. She’d punish you before you’d even do anything wrong, knowing you’d do it soon!

   We rolled our eyes at them. We thought they were over the top, too worried about "what the neighbors would think," and entirely too obsessed with making sure we had "manners"—whatever those were.

   But looking back, they weren’t just keeping up appearances.

   They were holding the world together, one perfectly pressed skirt and perfectly placed curl at a time.

   And for that, we owe them more than we ever realized.