Thunderation!
Behind the Photograph
Some photographs become priceless because they preserve voices as much as faces. Every time I look at this one, I can almost hear Mom saying the one word that belonged entirely to her.
“Some words belong to one person forever.”
This is my mother, LaRue.
If you spent much time around her, sooner or later you'd
hear a word you probably won't find in many dictionaries.
"Thunderation!"
That was her word.
If she dropped something...
"Thunderation!"
If supper didn't turn out quite the way she wanted...
"Thunderation!"
If one of us kids disappointed her...
Well...
We knew what was coming.
"Thunderation!"
Mom worked hard.
After a full day on the job, she'd come home and head
straight for the garden.
Fresh vegetables found their way either to the freezer or to
the supper table.
Then she'd cook a full meal from scratch.
There were homemade biscuits or cornbread with just about
every meal.
My favorite was her fried chicken and milk gravy.
She cooked the chicken in an electric skillet.
For you youngsters...
That was our version of today's air fryer.
After supper came my favorite part of the day.
Mom washed.
I dried.
Looking back, I don't think those evenings were really about
clean dishes.
They were about conversation.
While plates and glasses passed from one pair of hands to
the other, we talked about school, work, family, and whatever else had happened
that day.
Those quiet moments at the kitchen sink became some of the
best memories of my childhood.
There was one other thing about Mom.
She never drank alcohol.
Well...
Almost never.
If she got sick, Pop would fix her a hot toddy.
That was about the only exception she'd allow.
Looking at this photograph also reminds me of someone I
never really had the chance to know.
The gentleman beside her is my dad, Red.
He died just shy of his forty-ninth birthday, when I was
only seven years old.
Because I was so young, I have very few memories of him.
But I've heard the stories.
He was a gifted carpenter and cabinetmaker whose work was
always in demand.
According to my brother, in his younger days my dad was
quite a pool player.
The family story is that he and my grandfather ran the local
pool hall, and Red had a habit of emptying more than a few wallets before the
night was over.
I wish I'd known him longer.
But I'm thankful for the stories that have kept a part of
him alive.
As for Mom...
I can still hear her voice.
It's funny how a single word can survive long after the
person who spoke it is gone.
Whenever life throws me a curve, every once in a while I
still catch myself thinking...
Thunderation!
Photographer’s Notes:
Western Kentucky
Circa 1950s–1960s · Camera unknown
A family portrait preserved through time
With Red and LaRue
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