When Mom Was My Age (#33)


By Jane Friedman

Ginny Sue Gohmann & daughter Johanna Gohmann

Ginny Sue Gohmann & daughter Johanna Gohmann

“When Mom Was My Age” is an interview series between daughters and mothers. New interviews appear every Monday. If you would like to participate, contact Jane.

The following interview is with Ginny Sue Gohmann, reflecting on her life at age 35, interviewed by daughter Johanna Gohmann.

Where did you live?
Where we live now. I lived in Indiana, on Silver Hills. I had your sister and two older brothers, and you and Marty. And Ted was just baby. So there was a lot of kid stuff around, obviously. The house was filled lots of shoes and books and toys…it was very colorful, and I liked it. There was lots of baby stuff sitting around. High chairs, diapers … stuff like that. But it was always neat and clean.

What was a typical day like?
I got up at 6:30 and got the kids up for school. I ironed everyone’s school uniforms, fixed breakfast, and then took care of the baby. I got him up, and got everyone off to school then dressed him and fed him and took care of him. Then I cleaned house, and my mother usually walked over.  The two of us would go and pick the kids up from school. And then I fixed dinner. I would clean up the kitchen while my husband gave the kids a bath. And then I passed out. Ready to do it again the next day.

What did you worry about the most?
I worried about something happening to one of you … the kids being sick or something happening. Lynne Anne had died … my oldest daughter had passed away at 5 years old. And I was just … I think that was my greatest concern, trying to keep you guys safe and healthy. Just taking care of you guys.

What did you think the future held for you?
I was always very content. I didn’t think much about the future. I had just had another baby, so I was very happy. I loved having the kids and I loved taking care of them. I was very contented doing that. My life was very full and very active. I was very busy at your school. I sewed costumes and I cooked and I was just very happy with the children. I did not look ahead and think, “Oh yes, I’m going to have three more boys.” I did not think that. But I was very happy. I’ve always been very happy with the kids. Their life made my life overflow too, because we had science fairs and book reports and things that had to be done. I was very busy, but it was a fun busy. I had a very good time. I did not dream into the future.

How do you look back on that age now?
This is going to sound silly, but it doesn’t seem any different than it is now. No, I don’t have a house full of little children, but I look at some of my children and I think about how old they are, and then think, “How can they be that age, because I think I’m that age!” I think I’m still 35. I don’t look back at that time and think that was then, a long time ago, and this is where I am now. It doesn’t seem like that was 30 years ago and I was somebody else. I feel like I’m still the same person. Hopefully smarter and hopefully wiser. Thankfully I still have my health … though my brain sort of goes around the corner every now and then. But I don’t feel any different. Every now and then I have a few aches and pains, but I had a few aches and pains then, too. When I was pregnant with my last child I couldn’t even move. So I’m probably healthier now than I was then. I don’t see that as a long ago time. It’s just like, this is now. Things are changing, but this is now.

Does it seem strange to you that I’m now 35?
That’s the only conundrum. It does feel very strange, and I have a hard time remembering that you’re 35. And that Moosie is 34, and that Donnie’s 37, and that Ted’s 32, and Gretchen’s 40 … because I think I’m that age. And I don’t know how we’re all going to get to be the same age at once. I still think of all of you as very young people. Which you are. But I think I’m right there with you. Which sounds kind of squirrelly I guess. But yes, I think of you as being a young girl. But then I think, “Oh, wait, she’s 35 years old!” And I realize you are a grown adult. I have to remind myself of that sometimes. That you are all grown people. Which helps me not tell you what to do all the time. And now I have to remind you guys that I’m a grown person. Because now you’re beginning to tell me what to do. And I don’t pay any more attention to you than you all did to me.

Thanks very much for doing this, Mom.
You’re welcome, honey. Oh, and I wanted to tell you, I was watching “Everyone Loves Raymond” last night. Because he now makes me laugh out loud. And I have one episode I want to tell you about when you get here. It’s about a turkey. So ask me.

From Johanna
By the time my mother was my age she was in the midst of raising six children—four sons and two daughters. She would go on to have two more sons, and I would grow up in a loud, hectic, hilarious home of six boys and two girls. I don’t currently have any children of my own, and I cannot quite imagine where one summons the energy and enthusiasm required to care for so many little people. I try to get my head around how my mom not only did it, but did it with such love and passion, and the mind boggles. When I think about the fact that she had also suffered the horrible tragedy of losing a child, but still managed to press on with her life with such joy and optimism and courage, I am filled with a special kind of awe. When I was child, she was an endless well of energy and laughter, and she is much the same today. The strength of her spirit is a tremendous inspiration to me. And I can’t wait to hear what happened with Raymond and that turkey.

 

  • http://www.100memoirs.com Shirley Showalter

    I love the sense in this interview that we are eavesdropping on intimate conversation, not because it is about such personal things, feelings, etc., but because it is so earthy and full of the energy of ordinary life. I am the oldest of five children who would have been six had my sister Mary Louise lived for more than six weeks. I resonated very much with this lovely piece.

    Do you know this poem by Wordsworth called “We are Seven”?

    ——–A SIMPLE Child,
    That lightly draws its breath,
    And feels its life in every limb,
    What should it know of death?

    I met a little cottage Girl:
    She was eight years old, she said;
    Her hair was thick with many a curl
    That clustered round her head.

    She had a rustic, woodland air,
    And she was wildly clad: 10
    Her eyes were fair, and very fair;
    –Her beauty made me glad.

    “Sisters and brothers, little Maid,
    How many may you be?”
    “How many? Seven in all,” she said
    And wondering looked at me.

    “And where are they? I pray you tell.”
    She answered, “Seven are we;
    And two of us at Conway dwell,
    And two are gone to sea. 20

    “Two of us in the church-yard lie,
    My sister and my brother;
    And, in the church-yard cottage, I
    Dwell near them with my mother.”

    “You say that two at Conway dwell,
    And two are gone to sea,
    Yet ye are seven!–I pray you tell,
    Sweet Maid, how this may be.”

    Then did the little Maid reply,
    “Seven boys and girls are we; 30
    Two of us in the church-yard lie,
    Beneath the church-yard tree.”

    “You run about, my little Maid,
    Your limbs they are alive;
    If two are in the church-yard laid,
    Then ye are only five.”

    “Their graves are green, they may be seen,”
    The little Maid replied,
    “Twelve steps or more from my mother’s door,
    And they are side by side. 40

    “My stockings there I often knit,
    My kerchief there I hem;
    And there upon the ground I sit,
    And sing a song to them.

    “And often after sunset, Sir,
    When it is light and fair,
    I take my little porringer,
    And eat my supper there.

    “The first that died was sister Jane;
    In bed she moaning lay, 50
    Till God released her of her pain;
    And then she went away.

    “So in the church-yard she was laid;
    And, when the grass was dry,
    Together round her grave we played,
    My brother John and I.

    “And when the ground was white with snow,
    And I could run and slide,
    My brother John was forced to go,
    And he lies by her side.” 60

    “How many are you, then,” said I,
    “If they two are in heaven?”
    Quick was the little Maid’s reply,
    “O Master! we are seven.”

    “But they are dead; those two are dead!
    Their spirits are in heaven!”
    ‘Twas throwing words away; for still
    The little Maid would have her will,
    And said, “Nay, we are seven!”
    1798.

  • Emily

    So sweet. I just love you both – two hilarious, strong, amazing women.

  • http://www.judycroome.blogspot.com Judy Croome

    What a lovely interview. I take my hat off to Ginny – raising 6 kids with so much love. (I was too scared to have kids, so I find this a rather awesome acheivement!)

    Loved the question & answer what do you feel when your realise the kids are 35 etc. Must be surreal!
    Judy,
    South Africa