Motivation

Motivation

What motivates you?

My early training still motivates me. Mother started us on chores early on. Long before I started school, Mother assigned me simple chores. Initially, I enjoyed it but my interest soon flagged. That didn’t matter. Mother would set a pile of washcloths before me and made it clear, their folding was my responsibility. I’d have to call for her approval before being released to play. Had I done a sloppy job, I’d be back to work. After enough times, it occurred to me I might as well get it right and be done. It would have been much easier for her to have done it herself but she stayed on point. Daddy reinforced Mother’s training.

Of course, as time went on and I faced other challenges, I had the benefit of my parent’s diligent training. I did well in school, got married, had children, became a nurse, and was prepared to face challenges daily. I wanted to be a good wife, mother, worker, boss, and friend. A well-ordered life was second nature. I am grateful for that motivation.

How the Cat Taught Me to Make the Bed

Mother always stayed on me about making my bed.  I was a bonafide lazy kid, intent on getting loud without doing it.  It just wasn’t on my priority list.  Sadly, Mother usually caught me and sent me back to do it. I knew better than to lie. Despite her nagging,  I hadn’t internalized the need to make my bed at that point.

One morning, she had multiple catastrophes allowing me to slip out.  I sloppily pulled my covers up, pulled the door behind me and escaped, unaware I’d shut the cat in my room.  He snuggled into the warm spot I’d left and settled in for a nice nice nap.  I suppose he yowled later in the day and Mother let him out.

When I got in bed that night, I lifted the covers and slid between the sheets in one swift move, encountering a cold,slimy sensation from knee to thigh.  When I hopped out of bed, I found a soupy poop surprise the cat smeared on my leg.  It was horrible and felt like it couldn’t’ t be washed off.  It changed my attitude about bed making forever.  The cat knew how to motivate

Musings on My Father, on His Birthday (Part 2)

Five kids

Back left, Linda Swain Bethea, holding Connie Swain Miller’s hands, Middle Back Billy Swain, Back Right Phyllis Swain Barrington holding Marilyn Swain Grisham.  Picture made about 1961

parents wedding pic

Bill Swain and Kathleen Holdaway Swain, June 29, 1945

Musings on My Father, on His Birthday (Part 1)

When I reflect on my father’s life, it is odd to think I am several years older now than he was when he died at fifty-seven.  He had retired, all five of his children were grown and on their own, and his life was no longer a struggle.  He had realized his dream and had large herds of cattle on two farms.  He had mellowed out and life was good.  He died only three weeks after being diagnosed with a brain tumor in December, 1981.

When puzzling out his behavior, I now realize Daddy’s moods were bipolar.  He was extremely quick to anger, irritable, easily offended.  The worst thing his children could do was to embarrass him.  Quick to reach for a belt or switch like so many parents of his era, he considered himself strict, though he would be classed abusive now.  Many times, we wore stripes for days after a whipping.  His goal was to raise children who were law-abiding, respectful, and hard-working.  Though his methods were beyond strict we might have rebelled had we not had our mother’s softening, comforting influence.  She had as little control over her life as we did ours.

The whole family’s life got harder after we moved to the farm.  Land had to be cleared, brush piled and burned, barns and fences built.  It was more work than any one man could do in a lifetime.  Daddy must have been overwhelmed by all the work to be done.  We were all pressed into service.  My brother and I worked right along with Daddy, along with occasional help Daddy could afford to hire.  When the day’s work started, Daddy always said, “Time to the friendship to end and the work to begin.”  He was difficult to work with, not taking time to explain how to do a job, lashing out when we didn’t read his mind.  I learned to hate summer and school holidays, knowing farm work was waiting.  My poor brother, being three years younger than I, caught the brunt of the work, laboring on that farm almost every day he wasn’t in school from the time he was eleven till he left home.  Thankfully, I was fourteen when the heavy work started and only sentenced to four years hard labor.  All that farm work certainly motivated me to get an education.  I had no intention of ever being subservient to anyone again.  From the time I was ten or eleven, I had a miserable relationship with Daddy and avoided him whenever possible, which wasn’t often, since I had to help so much.  Though I was definitely not grateful at the time, I did learn valuable skills that have helped me throughout my life.  I am very strong, have good problem solving skills, and am not intimidated by difficult tasks.  There was also the added benefit of developing a thick skin.  I yet had to work for anyone as critical as Daddy.

With the arrival of grandchildren, he demonstrated the kindness and caring we never enjoyed.  He was everything a grandfather should be.  I admired a lot of things about Daddy and think we would have grown close had he lived longer.