Mama Hon

I had a friend refer to her grandmother as an "acquired taste" the other day and I really can't seem to find a better way to describe my grandmother, Mama Hon. As a child, I was immersed in her presence and could be considered an addict when it came to this woman. Many didn't especially like her - she could hold a grudge with the best of them and wasn't the easiest to get along with (from what I hear), but I thought she was perfect.

Her name was Dorothy Wilma MacKenzie - she went by Billie, I think you can imagine why, with a name like that. She was born in Pelham, NY, has two brothers, George & Bruce and a sister, Carol. She married my grandfather, Robert MacKenzie in 1960 and moved out to Idaho 15 years later with their four children: Donna, Robert, Jimmy, and Scott.

She ran a flower shop in Payette, ID - across from the high school. It was there where I learned to answer the phone "properly", take orders from customers, and count change back while using the register. She had a "cold room" where the flowers were kept and several greenhouses where my grandfather grew various plants and flowers for the shop.

My brother, sister, and I have many memories of that flower shop - one in particular, when Greg almost burnt the entire thing down! I don't remember the details, but I can very easily recall the firetrucks and the trouble he got into!

I guess I should explain the name - when Alisha was young, (she was the first grandchild on both sides), she was unable to say grandma or grandpa and she ended up calling our grandparents Mama Hon and Papa Hon - the names, have obviously stuck. Our grandparents on the other side, were nicknamed Mama Pete and Papa Pete.

Her house, clothes, car, and flower shop smelled of cigarettes and potpourri. She smoked Pall Malls and Parliament 100s and drank boxed Franzia and Carlo Rossi wine. She wore big glasses, pearls, always had a matching purse with her shoes - pumps, of course. I never saw her in blue jeans, even when she was out working in the garden. She always had nice coats, wore black, red, tweed, and without fail - plaid skirts. She had great legs, she wasn't tall, but her legs were perfect. Her hair was always, short, but big and grayish white.

My brother Greg and our Uncle Scott would follow her around and put out her cigarettes as fast as she could light them - as she would have one lit in every room. My mother would strip off our clothes and wash them and us as soon as we got home from staying with Mama Hon as the smoke had seeped into our clothing and hair.

She had a knack for making the holiday's extra-special. We always spent Christmas Eve with Mama Hon and Papa Hon. She had a special arrangement with Santa so he would come and visit her house on Christmas Eve because he knew we would be there early. For birthdays, she would get every grandchild a gift, even if it wasn't their birthday! That way, no one ever felt left out. And I know, that one of these days, the mountain of black hills gold jewelry I received from her, will come back into style!

She was an excellent cook, but her gravy was terrible. It tasted like salty tar and for some reason, she always thought that Papa Hon and I enjoyed it. He would grin and bear it, I on the other hand would always whisper in my mother's ear that I couldn't eat it, but for some reason, I always choked it down. It was so much fun to eat at Mama Hon's house because she always had English muffins with jam, rye bread, dill pickles, and olives to eat! Seems like odd things to enjoy as a child, but they are special because they were associated with her house.

One of my favorite parts about going to see Mama Hon and Papa Hon was the dogs. Alisha, Greg, and I each had a dog there. It just so happened that they had three dogs, and we considered them ours. Rex was a huge golden retriever - probably mix of some kind. He was Alisha's and we could ride him, he was so big! Greg loved Tar-Baby, she was a little black mutt with bits of white, but she was a sweetheart. I had Duke, he was a collie and I referred to him as my Lassie dog.

Mama Hon passed away ten years ago following a battle with cancer. It's hard to imagine that she's been gone for ten years. I was looking through a box of things the other day and found a copy of her obituary as well as the ribbon from the flowers at her funeral. With the way our family has split in the past few years (I'll save the details for another blog), it is crazy to think how different our lives would be like if she were still here.

My mom and I went out to the cemetery on Sunday, which was the 10th anniversary of Mama Hon's death. Others had been there before us, as we could see from the variety of poinsettia plants and wreaths surrounding her grave. I brought with us a bottle of Carlo - her traditional drink, it was a gorgeous day, we told stories, laughed, cried a bit, and we toasted to Mama Hon - may she never be forgotten.