In Memory

On Sunday, April 19th, my mother, Ethel Frech passed away. She was, by all accounts, a mess which is considered a good thing here in the South.

Ethel Frech 87 years old

She was born in 1927 in Morgan County, TN (eastern TN) as Ethel Hawn. Her rather unique approach to dealing with life's challenges was what we called Morgan County ingenuity and it came into use frequently as she managed to hold together our household of three kids and at any point in time one or two dogs, assorted aquariums and of course Dad.

She trained as a nurse, beginning her career as an infectious diseases nurse. That was quite the profession in those days where the patients she took care of often had diseases that had no cure. She was a lot like the nurses and doctors that travel the globe dealing with exotic diseases. But her passion turned to psychiatric nursing and she soon became recognized by her colleagues as an especially skillful clinician. But she left all of that behind to have a family and be a stay-at-home Mom. That's not to say she didn't continue to use her training. She nursed kids, dogs, birds, ducks (we once raised Mallard ducks as a project) and neighbors whenever necessary. She had three siblings, two brothers and a younger sister. They were a tight bunch as the Hawns tend to be and she took care of them too. They all looked to their big sister for advice and help and at times got a sharp tongue if she thought they needed it.

When Dad retired she took a refresher course in nursing and went to work at a local mental health organization. She was 60 at the time and loved every minute of it. She would come over sometimes after work and we'd talk about the doctors and how some of them didn't know steak from shoe leather. She had her favorites too.

She was sometimes the grace of calm in stormy situations. When I was 19 I came out to her when on leave from the Navy. It was more like a conversation over coffee than a coming out story. She was ironing Dad's shirts when I told her. She didn't miss a wrinkle in her ironing and simply said "are you sure?" I was and she said "OK, that's fine." That was my coming out story. Short and simple. No drama. She told me years later that her only concern was that being gay was going to make my life harder but she never wavered in her support of me.

She had a temper, which unfortunately I inherited. Nothing would rile her more than if one of her kids was being mistreated. When I was in the 6th grade we had what, at that time, passed for sex education. The girls went to one classroom, the boys another and we watched a film strip about the changes we were going to see in our bodies. The actual sex education part was less than helpful and left the boys in the room wondering just how babies were made. Being the son of a nurse I learned early on where babies came from and was even treated to pictures of various stages of pregnancy in my mother's nursing text books. It wasn't a mystery to me. After our film strip we went to lunch and the subject at the table was where babies really did come from. There were many theories, all of which were wrong, and I decided that I'd explain the process in detail. That got me sent to the principal's office for talking dirty.

Of course Mom was called to come to the school. I was waiting for her in the principal's office. I wasn't worried. I knew I hadn't done anything wrong. I just felt sorry for the principal. I'll never forget what she looked like when she came in the door to the school's office. She rarely wore makeup but that day for some reason she had on make up and her hair was done (she and Dad may have planned a night out). She came through the door and in one fell swoop she grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me into the principal's office. "Mrs. Frech" the principal began before being interrupted. My mother looked at me and asked if I had in fact been talking dirty at lunch and I said no. I explained the film strip and the confusion and the fact that I was simply trying to be helpful and correct some of the misconceptions that seemed to have been created by the class. She sent me back into the office to sit and wait and shut the door. I couldn't hear what was said but it didn't take long before we left. Nothing was ever said to me again about the incident. Years and years later (when I was in my 30s) I asked her about that day and if she remembered what was said. She did and told me that she informed the principal that if they were going to teach something to do it right, and if they didn't know how it worked let her know and she'd explain. That is how she dealt with life. Full on. Don't avoid the difficult parts. Deal with them as they come up and keep moving forward. Always move forward.

I could go on and on with stories about my mother. She was such a rich source of entertainment for me and our family. Electronics where an especially difficult concept for her. She often said that if it had more than three buttons she didn't want it. Of course that changed when she had her first granddaughter and needed a microwave to warm up milk. When we got a microwave it was the size of a car and needed an engineer to operate. She learned out to operate it surprisingly enough. When I got my first answering machine I tried to explain to her how it worked. I spent a lot of time out of town back then and needed and answering machine. There were no cell phones. I came home one Friday night and listened to the week's messages. The first one was from Mom. It said: "this is your mother, Ethel, Frech, call me." I don't know how many Ethel Frechs she thought I knew but she was going to make sure I called the right one back. I kept that tape for years just to hear her say that. Made me laugh every time.

She once told her brothers, sister nieces and nephews that before she died she wanted to try pot. She was in her 80s when she made this pronouncement and probably didn't remember that she and I once shared a joint on the back steps of the house on Fairlawn Drive in 1976. Her rational was that she wanted to know what is smelled like so she could tell if my brother or sister were indulging. I was in high school and it was finals time. I was a senior and hadn't taken a full days worth of classes so I got out of school very early. I didn't have to be at work until later in the day so we planned our little pot party for after school. We smoked, got the giggles, raided the refrigerator and laughed some more. I was sworn to secrecy but I guess the cats out of the bag now.

She was a master gardener. Everywhere we lived she'd find a spot to grow something. When we moved to Fairlawn Drive in Charlotte she put in gardens around the house. It was like a forest. When she and Dad moved to Charleston to be closer to me we put in a garden together. The first year wasn't so hot but the following years we got a pretty good harvest. This is a picture of her not being able to wait for the rain to stop before checking out her plants. She even augmented the landscaping around the assisted living center. Single-mindedness.

When she and Dad went to assisted living there were some ups and downs. It took a while for her to get with the plan that the staff was there to help them. Her fierce independent streak made that transition difficult but we made it through and she found some good friends and developed some very close friendships with the staff. Here's a picture of her on Halloween ready for the costume party.

Of the many things I learned from her that has served me well throughout my life is how to cook. Mom was an excellent self-taught cook and would make all kinds of food. My favorite was her Chinese on my birthday or marinated steaks on the grill. The only thing she couldn't cook was fish. She loved having the head on and baking it in the oven. She'd serve that with peas and carrots for a meal that I had to pass up every time. I would tease her about having fish and peas and carrots. Ugh. Nasty.

She adored her granddaughters (all four of them). I would laugh when she would write them letters about behaving or her expectations for them. She was a serious Mamaw to be reckoned with if you got out of line. I've been on the receiving end of those letters too. They told you what you needed to hear whether you wanted to know or not.

She was a remarkable woman. Just before she died she was rearranging the nursing unit so that people who liked each other were on the same halls and people that were difficult were on other halls. Leave it to Mom to rearrange the nursing units at her nursing home. That is what you call spunk!

I could write volumes about Mom but this should be enough for you to see what a remarkable woman she was. I'll miss her so much.