Through the power of the Internet, I’ve been able to get a copy of a picture of a lovely young thing named Marella Stockdale. She’s the second from the left – that’s my mama.
I will be working on this image a bit to clean up the edges – but I wanted to get this up.
When I called Mom tonight we were talking about old friends and long-ago family memories. She told me the tale of the allegedly “hot” turkey that wandered up the alley behind the family home in Colorado Springs, and how she and her sister Ginny “enticed it into the old chickenhouse” with corn. Her mother was horrified; she was sure the turkey had strayed or fallen off the back of a truck and that the girls had improperly acquired somebody else’s turkey dinner. Grandma called everyone she knew and all the grocery stores, but no one claimed the turkey. Meanwhile, she fattened it up for an upcoming holiday dinner. Time went by, and Grandma fretted and worried about the rightful owner of the turkey my mother and aunt had birdnapped.
When the time came, she attempted to slaughter it herself, using a piece of string wrapped around the turkey’s neck to haul it to the stump. Holding the string with one hand, and the axe with the other, she stretched its neck across the stump and swung, but unfortunately for her and fortunately for the turkey, cut only the string. Thus freed, the turkey gobbled indignantly at her (it was huge, at least 30 pounds and quite the monster as poultry goes). She considered as how she’d let her husband deal with it when he got home.
Quite a bit later, when she carried the roasted bird into the dining room on a large platter(staggering under the weight, most likely,) a young chum of Mom’s exclaimed loudly, “WHERE did you get that turkey??” Thinking she was being accused of theft and caught literally red-handed, she nearly dropped the bird, platter and all, on the dining room floor.
The young chum of that time was the source of the photo – he’s the fellow to the left of Mom, Eugene Gustavson. He and his brother, and the brother’s wife-to-be and Mom were all gathered for Thanksgiving.
What strikes me about Mom is how pretty and lively and spunky she looks… and she’s not wearing glasses. The other striking thing is that she looks like me, except with darker hair. Funny, I always thought I took after Pop, but I’ve got Mom’s cheekbones.
Well, she’s still pretty and lively and spunky, but has acquired a fine patina, like a vintage coin. That’s my mama.
