Annice Barton Graham
By Dorothy Graham Gast
Mama’s hands were not beautifully manicured or white and soft. They could plant a garden, gather food for canning and make a meal for a family. Her hands could soothe a crying infant and smooth a seven year old’s cowlick
Mama’s hands washed the clothes and ironed them. . She could sew a dress from reclaimed feed sacks or piece and quilt a covering to keep out the cold Her tiny stitches held together the baby dresses we had worn .She taught us how to embroidery, and sew a straight seam, and how to adjust the sewing machine when we got it out of whack. And she showed us the tablecloth she made for her trousseaux.
Mama’s hands chopped and picked the cotton to pay for school clothes, and handed Daddy a wrench when he repaired the plumbing or a hammer when they built a fence to keep the pigs in. She carried buckets of slop to feed the hogs when Daddy worked out of town. . Her hands milked the cow after she tossed down hay with a pitchfork.
Sometimes her hands were stained with muscadine juice when she made jelly or preserves. They were scratched when she picked blackberries for a special pie. Sometimes they burned when she chopped peppers for her famous pear relish that relatives craved for Christmas gifts. She gathered peaches and made cobblers for Sunday dinner guests. Four generations learned about cooking from her busy hands.
Neighbors knew that she would come when death invaded their home and make the routines of life go on when families were stricken. Her hands brought food and comfort and help.
When she helped me with my homework her hands showed how to make a map or chart a graph.. When she read our reports, her finger pointed out the errors to be corrected. And found information in books that was just the proof we needed.
Mama’s hands could give a pat on the back or a spank a little lower if correction was needed. They could feel a fever on a child’s forehead and place a cool cloth on the face of the sick. No matter how sick you were, you always felt better when Mama got there even after you were all grown up.
Most of all the hands were open just like her heart and willing to put things right that had gone awry. They taught children to pray and to sit quietly during church service and sometimes pinched a rebellious worshiper who didn’t..
Strong and skilled, her hands signaled for workers as they followed her lead preparing school lunches, and signed the beautiful rituals of the Eastern Star while she was Worthy Matron.
No, Mama’s hands were not pretty, but they were beautiful to all of us