Take me home country road: An ode to Mom, Mary and Dupo

I had the pleasure of participating in a Mother’s Day podcast yesterday produced by my longtime friend, John St. Augustine. He interviewed a few of his other friends about memories of their moms and I was included. I’ve written a lot about my mom, but as always, John drew things out of me that I had either long forgotten or never knew I had. So, that prompted me to share some more memories here on this special day.

One of my favorite memories is introducing Chuck to my hometown of Dupo, Illinois. As many of you know, it’s a small railroad town near the banks of the Mississippi. I still remember every single street and especially the backroads leading into and around the neighboring town of East Carondelet, a rather poor community but filled with love and pride. My second mother, Mary Lee Johnson and her husband Jim Johnson lived there so I know it very well- especially the old convenience store where I bought snuff for her whenever I came to town.

Anyway, back to Chuck’s first visit- I took him to Greenfields, our favorite restaurant in Columbia, Illinois  (now long gone). My mom loved it as did all my cousins and aunt, so it was a special spot. Certainly nothing fancy, but a real neighborhood restaurant where all the waitresses knew you by your first name.

Chuck ordered a dinner salad that my friend Jeannie served to him with a dirty napkin inside. You would think it would be all downhill after that, but we won $900 on a scratch off ticket – with Chuck giving most of it away to Jeannie who hovered nearby after the win. It was a memory we laugh about to this day.

My mom loved, no adored, Chuck. Everyone did. As a matter of fact, after losing her husband, Chuck invited her to come live with us which were, she told me, the happiest three years of her life. Mine too since I had her close to me. As an only child, she was much more than just a mom- she was a sister, friend, confidante and more.

When I was young, I never really realized the sacrifices she made for me. My mom worked for TWA (the airline) as a teletypist. Every morning, five days a week, she left the house around 4:30 a.m. for a job in St. Louis, which was a 45-minute drive. She did this for 40 years until she retired. I can’t even imagine the dedication she had to support her family like this to make sure there was food on the table and clothes on my back.

When I got older, I made sure she was as spoiled as I could afford- jewelry, fur coats, designer handbags, travel and more – I wanted to give her the world like she had tried to give me.

Growing up, I knew she didn’t have it easy with my stepfather, who was a mean drunk. I remember a lot of yelling and, at one time, when he threatened her, I hit him on the back with my guitar. He chased me until he lost me. (I was hiding in the garage). I also remember studying for classes in the closet with a flashlight as chaos rained around me. I still graduated valedictorian of my class so, in a way, I have him to thank for that.

So, on this day, and always, I thank Elsa Mae Stott for nurturing me in the way she knew best and for making sure I had someone who loved me like she did when she couldn’t be there. Thank you for your many sacrifices and for always encouraging me to dream big. 

Mother’s Day is a day for not only honoring your mom but also the people who love you like a mom, so I dedicate this day to Mama Mary Johnson too. Between the two of them, I think I turned out pretty good. I feel forever blessed.

To listen to John St. Augustine's Mother's Day podcast, click here. 

(You may also like this article about memories of Memorial Day in my hometown.)