Written 2014-05-07, revised 2017-06-15

Mother’s Day – Mother-Daughter Banquet

As Mother’s Day is approaching this coming Sunday, my thoughts are on my mother, Helen Racy Duncan. Mom was 78 years old when she died on October 20, 2004. It is hard to believe that it has been ten years since she left us. So many times I feel I could just pick up the phone and talk with her. I imagine that I close my eyes and see her standing next to me. I guess we all feel that way. Mothers are just so much a part of our life that we never let them go. They are in our hearts forever and ever. There definitely is a special bond between mothers and daughters.

One of the memories that really sticks in my mind is the Swissvale Presbyterian Church Mother-Daughter banquet. This would take place every May and of course it was mandatory that Mom and all five of us girls (Bonnie, Cheryl, Denise, Carol and Maureen) attend. The dinner would be in the middle of the week, usually Tuesday or Wednesday, you know, one of those “unimportant” nights. The thing that made these dinners so special was that the husbands had to do all the cooking and serving. Let’s not get overly excited about this. Dinner consisted of garden salad with your typical Wish Bone bottled dressing, spaghetti with marina sauce and garlic toast. To be truthful, the spaghetti was probably already prepared. The guys would heat up a big pot of the spaghetti sauce, then boil the water for the spaghetti. With that level of minimal difficulty, there wasn’t much danger of them screwing it up. But we are talking about the 1950s and the 1960s when a woman being waited upon meant going to a fancy restaurant for a special occasion. Even better was the fact that the men had to do all the cleanup. No women were permitted in the church kitchen during this event. Now that was a treat for every woman seated in the church basement rec room

Now for the real reason why Mom always wanted to attend this dinner each year. Among the various recognition awards, accompanied with a potted plant, was who had the most daughters. Of course, Mom always one. There was no one else with five daughters and no one else who enlist her five daughters attend each year. Seriously, it wasn’t like we had a choice, at least, not while we were living at home. We would all sit there at the long tables, spaghetti sauce dotting the white paper taped to the length of the tables. The chairwoman of the Sunday Women’s Church group would call out to the crowd, “Who has two or more daughters?” Half of the room would raise their hands. Then she would call out “Three daughters?” Hands would drop. “Four daughters?” Now we were down to less than five women. Mom would give that knowing smile as the woman would call out “Who has five daughters?” One solitary hand, raised high, remained. We girls sat there, forced grins amid the applause, as Mom once again won the coveted pot of petunias. Looking back, I can see how much Mom loved to have us together, her pride in us showing, as the chairwoman began calling the next motherly accomplishment.

Happy Mother’s Day in Heaven, Mom. I love and miss you.Back row – Dad and Mom, Middle Row – Bonnie and Cheryl, Front Row – Maureen, Carol and Denise