Her Mother Always Told Her She Was Strong... But Strength Isn't Always Enough

On this episode of Our American Stories, Edie Hand was always told by her mother that she was strong... but strength isn't always enough.

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:10):
This is Lee Habib and this is our American Stories,
and we tell stories about everything here on this show,
from the arts to sports, and from business to history
and everything in between, including your story. Send them to
our American Stories dot com. There's some of our favorites.
And you've heard from Edie hand before on our show.
Today you're going to hear a little bit about Edie's

(00:31):
own life story. We love telling you stories of family,
stories of mothers and the importance they play in their
children's lives, for better and for worse. Here is Edie
with her own story.

Speaker 2 (00:50):
I recall a simpler time in my life and burn Out, Alabama.
It was so small that we used to laugh and say,
we know burnouts burnt plumb out. I remember going out
back of the house and I would be making mud
pies and my brothers would come up, and I'll never

(01:12):
forget how they said, so what are you cooking today, Edie?
Or they called me Edith, and I said, I'm making
a new mud pie. You want to try it. I
remember they sat down on the little pieces of wood
on the rocks and they put that mud in their mouth.
They got sick from eating that dirt and running to

(01:35):
the house to tell mother that I'd fed on mud pies.
It wasn't funny to my mother, but it was funny
to me. It was those little things. I remember going
to the barn with the boys and we saddle up
our horses. We had two Shetland ponies and a quarter horse.

(01:59):
It was a wonderful place to grow up. There was
forty acres of rolling hills. We had the garden with
different chores to do. The boys did more in the garden.
I was more helping mother with laundry. My mother would
always have us baked when we got off a school bus.

(02:20):
I remember was baked sweet potatoes and chocolate dew dad cookies.
She would want to hear about what we had done
in school for the day. I remember we had a
cold glass of milk with that. That was It's just
remembering home. That was home to me. And we all

(02:40):
need some place we can call home, either physically or
a place we can go back to in our minds.
And that is a place for me, and I think
the barn. I used to think this is the place,
you know. It was just simpler times, but it was

(03:00):
the place of the most joy. I think of feeling
free and it could be anything you want to be.
But the barn just spoke to me in a way
of I like the openness, I like the lofts, and
you could dream. It was a place to dream. You
could look out through the holes through the sky, or

(03:23):
you could jump out of the barn and be in
a pile of sawdust or hay. And we played kick
the can relay runs that we would see how fast
we were, you know, go from one tree to the next.
It was just nothing big, but those simple games that
I cherished the most, that I would call this is

(03:46):
the place. I think that place is where I found me.
My mother, Sue, was a homemaker when I was young.
She just lived for her children. She loved to dress
me up beautifully. I was her baby doll, and of
course I was her first child and the boys always

(04:11):
so handsome. Now, she didn't come to the barn and
do the things with us, but my grandmother, Alice did.
She She was a tomboy, my grandmother. She could ride,
she could milk cows, she could do anything. But my
mother was the one that always had everything just right
in the home, was always dressed perfect. My mother taught

(04:33):
me about being proper, good manners. Was always important to
be a lady, so I grew up with a lot
of old school manners with her. She was always very
proud of my accomplishments in life. I didn't get to
be as close to her as I wanted to be.
She was closer to the boys. I think my mother

(04:56):
was closer to the boys because they were more needy.
And she would say, you're strong. You're like Mama, You're
like Alice. You don't really need anybody. You just get
out there and do it. But what I wish my
mother had noticed was that I didn't either, so I

(05:20):
always just was strong. Everybody said it, so I must
be strong. I think it made me a loner. It
was a good quality, but I don't like being alone.

(05:41):
My grandmother, Alice, she said, please always love your mother.
She loves you dearly. She just doesn't know how to
connect to you. Your mother loves you. And sometimes there's
just no real explanation of the things, and just the
comment of it. Because what people don't realize, I think

(06:06):
is that it is important to take the time to
explain to someone and talk to them. Don't hide behind feelings.
I think I suppressed mine through the years. To be
almost seventy years old and to see that the little

(06:26):
girl in me still wants to go to the place.
Since the barn is gone, my grandmother's gone, when most
of my family is gone, there is no place that
I feel quite at home anymore. But I'm looking for it.

(06:46):
I'm going to find another place because my grandmother said
I could do hard things, and I will and I do.

Speaker 1 (07:00):
And great job on the production by Robbie, and thanks
for just a beautiful piece of storytelling from Edie Hand.
And that barn is a place to dream. And at
seventy years old, she's looking for that place. She suppressed
her feelings and she was the strong one and it
made her a loner. Eadie Hands story Here on our

(07:25):
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