R.E.S.P.E.C.T.

Dear Boo and Bubble,

Your great grandmother Mary, my mom, set the standard for angels on earth.  She loved her family, always tried to put a positive light on every situation, thought about others and acted pre-emptively on their behalf by sensing a need and meeting it.  Her knitting basket contained an endless skein of yarn with which she made baby blankets just to have on hand for every blessed event.  At Christmas, she wrapped anonymous presents in case someone showed up at the front door with an unexpected gift for us…..she would run down the hall and complete the tag in record time.  They never knew but that the bud vase, or kitchen towel, or set of napkin rings were purchased with them in mind all along.

She certainly would never hurt anybody’s feeling. However, according to legend, it wasn’t always so. 

Back in the mid-1920’s, when Mamaw Mary was about Boo’s age, women began to “bob” their hair which is to say cut it short and set it with finger waves.  The hair was just the tip of a radical fashion iceberg that raged in the 20’s.  Flapper dresses, high heels, silk stockings, gaudy beads all sent shock waves through a culture that up until then had been staid, modest and rather drab as far as women were concerned.

Mamaw Mary grew up in a very religious home.  Your great, great grandmother, Eva Crew Bethany, was raised a Quaker and when your great, great grandfather, James Foster Bethany, courted her in Texas, he would respectfully put his gun up on the mantel in deference to the faith’s tenet of non-violence.  The Bible and prayer played a significant role in the daily routine creating an impenetrable armor for the fashion crazes swirling all around.  As a matter of fact, I don’t think Eva ever cut her hair – ever – in her whole life.

Not so for the across-the-street neighbor.  She bobbed her hair.  It created quite a stir in the Bethany household and was the topic of conversation between Jim and Eva at the dinner table one night.

“You know, Eva,” James reflected as he pulled a forkful of mashed potatoes to his mouth, “I just can’t respect a woman who bobs her hair.”

This comment summed up his feelings.  Eva nodded her head.  Mamaw Mary sat quietly, feet dangling from her chair as she ate, appearing uninterested but absorbing everything that was being said.

The next day, Mamaw took it upon herself to go calling at the neighbor’s house.  She rang the bell and when the woman opened the door, Mamaw proceeded to say….

“I just want you to know that my father has lost all of his respect for you because you bobbed your hair.”

The woman’s furious reaction almost beat Mamaw Mary back home.  Eva and Jim were appalled, their punishment swift.

“Mary, you will go back over there right now and apologize for what you said.”

On the way back across the street, Mamaw mulled this dictate over and found herself conflicted.

I’ve always been told to tell the truth.  My father said he couldn’t respect her for bobbing her hair. That is the truth.  But now I have to go apologize for telling the truth. 

It was confusing – a mixed message.  By the time she arrived at the neighbor’s house, she figured out a solution.

She pushed on the bell with trepidation.  The door opened.  The woman stood there, arms folded and resting on her waist in a defensive posture.  There was momentary silence.

“I want to apologize for what I said,” Mamaw began.

“Really?”

“I was wrong.”

“Uh huh…”

“My father has not lost all of his respect for you.”

“Okay. Well good.”

“He’s just lost half of it.”