Saturday, May 16, 2009

A Family Treasure Comes Home


My dad was a wood carver. Actually, he would say he was a whittler but he had progressed way beyond that.

As happens with many prolific artists, their work has a way of flying out the door until, suddenly, when it's too late, the family realizes there isn't enough left to go around.

This was the case with my dad's carvings. They were purchased by major organizations, sold at state fairs, shipped to gift shops, and given to friends and neighbors who stopped by and admired a piece.

My youngest brother was recently notified that a carving would be included in an estate auction in West Virginia. He and my sister-in-law arrived early and spotted the black bear you see above. The auctioneer finally held it up and said, "I understand this was carved by a local artist. I don't happen to know his name but it is marked with the initials H.B. and dated 1971." From the other side of the big tent, a male voice replied, "The artist was Harley Burns." Try as he might, my brother could not see who had made the statement.

Bidding started with four or five people, then fewer and fewer until it reached the $100 mark with just my brother and the unidentified male on the other side of the tent still bidding. The other person dropped out and Dad's black bear was proudly reclaimed by our family.

But that's not the end of the story.

A little later, the man appeared in front of my sister-in-law who was holding the bear on her lap. "Did you happen to know the gentleman who carved that piece?" he asked. "Yes, I did," she replied. "He was my father-in-law and this is his son."

As it turned out, the other bidder was the son of a couple who had been longtime friends of our parents. He apologized for running up the bid but said he was determined that a dealer would not gain possession of Dad's carving. He related that, when he was married, our dad carved a heart for him and his new wife with their names and the date on it. It is still one of their treasured possessions. It is exactly the kind of thing Dad would have done.

To her delight, my brother gave Dad's only granddaughter the black bear for her birthday - from our dad, to him, to his daughter. What could be more fitting?

After more than thirty-five years, a family treasure has come home.

Saturday, May 9, 2009

My Mother - Cora Lee Burdette Burns

Mothers come in all shapes, sizes, colors, and personalities. Some mothers are soft and fuzzy while others are hard and prickly. And, sadly, some mothers do not deserve the title.

One word best describes my mother: Steadfast. I did not come to this realization until a few short years before she died.

Her mother died when she was a tiny baby. Her father was an alcoholic. She was casually dropped into the homes of various aunts, uncles, neighbors, and acquaintances until her grandparents finally took possession of her at age five. Both of them died by the time she was thirteen. She lived in a terrible situation with a cruel stepmother until she ran away at age sixteen. After that, she was on her own; doing housework and cooking for different families in return for room and board. Raised in poverty, both emotional and physical, she had nothing and no one.

And then she met my father. They were married when she was nineteen years old. Other than her brief time with her grandparents, his was the only love she had ever experienced. She would have walked through fire for him.

I was in my fifties before I began to understand my mother's early life and the impact it had on the person she became. If anyone ever had an excuse to give up and become a failure, it was my mother. Instead, she decided she had one thing that no one could take from her – her self-respect. Her own words were, "I decided I would never give anyone the power to beat me down." Her goals in life were to be a good person, a good wife, and a good mother whose children would always know they were loved and secure.

She decided that her children would be proud of who we were, that we would treat others kindly, that we would respect everyone no matter their color or circumstances, and that we would work hard to get the education she never had. The Holy Bible was her guide. One of the verses she lived by was, "Train up a child in the way he should go; and when he is old, he will not depart from it."

Through sheer determination and hard work, my mother stuck to her ideals through all kinds of difficult challenges until, one wonderful day, she realized that she had reached her goals. She was a respected member of her community. She was my father's soul mate. She looked at each child and was proud. And she never failed to tell us so.

Not too long ago, I was upset with a situation and venting my feelings to my husband. All of a sudden, I heard my mother's voice say, "Judge not, that ye be not judged, Sallie Anne."

I miss my mother's physical presence every day but she is always with me. She will be there until the day I die. Considering my independent spirit, there are times when I think that she made me what I am in spite of myself. On the other hand, perhaps I have it backwards. Perhaps she is the one who helped create my independent spirit.

Some definitions of steadfast: Faithful. Firm. Unshakable. Determined. Unbendable. Unswerving. Resolute. Loyal. Dependable. Unchanging. Constant.


My mother was steadfast. I am a better person because of her.