Yankee Ingenuity

When I was a little girl, my mother was my absolute hero, and I was a momma’s girl through and through.  My mother was beautiful, smart, reassuring and the person I always wanted to be near. And on top of that, she had a clear ability to solve simple problems in a pragmatic, no-nonsense way.  I clearly remember her looking at me one time as we stood side by side near the edge of the lake our home was built upon and saying, “That’s Yankee ingenuity, Karen.”  I’ve never forgotten that moment and in so many ways my memories of my mother are synonymous with my idea of ingenuity.  She embodied it.  She knew how to make do with what she had, solve problems with very little material or financial resources, and keep us all on the road forward.

A perfect example of her ingenuity, though simple, is from one summer when I was either four or five.   I had taken the top off my right big toe in some accident, and it was bright red and extremely tender.  I either went barefoot or wore open-toe sandals that summer.  She had taken us to a beach on a lake not far from our house to spend the day, and my toe was so tender that both the sand of the beach and the water washing over it prevented me from playing or swimming.  I remember the disappointment of watching my older brother and sister having such a good time while I was stuck sitting on the blanket with my mother.

She had nothing with which to wrap it, but she looked around the beach and found the end piece of an old balloon.  It was just small enough that when she stretched it over my toe it stayed put.  I certainly looked funny running around with the end of a red balloon flipping and swinging at the end of my toe, but the rest of the day was spent in blissful play and cool water.  That was “Yankee ingenuity.”