January, 8, 2011
Dear Nancy -p I'm writing over-all impressions while I
search my memory for stories with details.
For all the times I saw her, Mother Bea was a lady -- a
gentlewoman. She was "refined." This was independent of her sense of
appropriate manners, correct table settings, the right clothing, etc. (although
she had that too). This has to do with her character -- her graciousness, her
kindness, her showing deference to others and encouraging them. She was soft
while maintaining a subtle sense of humor. When I knew her first, she was in
full mental capability, bright and alert. My only struggle, and it was small
and quickly gone, was calling her Mother Bea. Joy, Marianne, and Gloria all
called her that. It was clearly expected. But I'd been through this
"mother" thing before and didn't want to use the name casually.
I found Mother Bea interesting. She was smart and competent
in many ways, but seemed a bit uncertain of herself. She said once that she
felt intimidated by Hugh B. Brown's wife, Zina (who lived in the ward), because
Zina knew the gospel so well and was so prominent and well-respected. She could
never keep up with David W. Evans' energy and ambitions -- she just wasn't
strong enough. He wanted to keep his hand in politics, so he encouraged her to
attend the meetings of the Women's Republican Club and then become president.
And because I was the typist among the daughters-in-law, she'd ask me for help
with their quarterly newsletter. I think this started me on the road to
defection, as the article on preventing John F. Kennedy from being elected a
second tjme appeared just before his death. Well, that and DWE's extreme
confidence as king-maker. Just made me uneasy.
DWE often invited guests in for dinner or "up the
Weber"; and she'd be expected to entertain them as if she had a cook and a
maid and a hostler. She did have Klara who cleaned wonderfully, but it was
Bea's job to set the table correctly including any candles and other decor. She
was to cook a party meal. She was to be animated and gracious. The reality was
she was in her 60s, 70s, and 80s; and such psychological and physical stress
cost her a lot. Always when she'd have Family Sunday, the meal would not be
finished when we arrived, and she'd be lying on the bench in the kitchenette
having had to "tip over" at the last minute. Usually a son would mash
potatoes and make the gravy (often Ted).but we all helped. Always the china
plates were in the warming oven, the lamb would be perfectly cooked, the mint
sauce ready, the Mother Bea green onion salad dressing ready (I hated it at
first), the beets ready to open, and the lemon chiffon pies on the service
porch sitting on the washer -- three of them, cut into six or eight equal
portions, each portion with whipped cream and a maraschino cherry. If it was
just a small family dinner, the children would sit in the dining room with
waxed paper under their place settings to protect the table cloth. I think no
one resented this. If the families who came included many, the children would
sit at the table in the kitchenette and generally behave themselves. Certainly
no food fights. Bea had visibly good manners and I think she just expected
those around her would have good manners, too. It mostly worked. The sons'
generation cleaned up after the meal. Once Wayne was washing stemmed pink
goblets and I was drying. I held the stem with my left hand, put the towel in
the bowl with my right hand, and twisted. The bowl came off -- broken. I
couldn't believe it. I protested I hadn't been rough with the goblets. I was
just drying them. And to prove it, I did the same thing with another, and the
bowl broke off the stem again. I was horrified, but Bea said it was absolutely
no loss, she'd paid only 25 cents a piece for them at a wonderful ZCMI sale. I
appreciated her attempt at rescue, but even then, I knew better. A full set of
something is what you need.
Mother Bea didn't sew a lick but Marianne and Gloria and I
did. Therefore, when she had to tip over the night before flying to San
Francisco or Washington D.C or Europe, she'd ask if the daughter nearest at
hand would please help shorten the hem of her skirt or some such thing. I
sometimes thought it was poor planning on her part, but now I realize that a
woman's energy can easily give out at the end of long preparations and big
excitement / expectations. She was always grateful for anything I did for her.
When she came back from one trip to Europe (I'd not been a member of the family
very long), she gave me a set of black beads -- I think ivory died deep black.
And she told me she'd bought them in an antique shop in Windemere, England, and
they could be worn only by a woman with jet black hair. I felt royal. As best
as I could tell, she always brought back gifts, often for everyone. And she
took pleasure (plus time and energy) shopping on her vacation for something to
give others.
Bea did challenge some of my behavior, but immediately
softened the challenge. Once when I took toddler Lark upstairs for a visit, I
was having a hard time getting her to come back to the apartment with me. Not
wanting to resort to strength, I said "Larky, let's go down now and have a
drink of chocolate milk before bed." Bea looked up and said, "I think
chocolate milk isn't very good for children." But then she added,
"My, isn't Lark growing up to be beautiful." On another occasion,
very early in our ,marriage, I was
reading to her from a news magazine and came across the word
"automaton" which I pronounced "auto matin." She gently
suggested that it might be pronounced "ah tom a ton," but added that there are often
different pronunciations for the same word. And once, completely out of
nowhere, she commented "You don't go to all your church meetings,"
but without missing a beat added "but, we have a lot of meetings and a
person can go to too many." The strongest and most lasting criticism was
her comment, "Vella, you always err on the side of right." Doesn't
pay to look too closely at that.
I was amused by her devotion to family as it seemed unequal.
Her father was described as being without fault (except that he served others
at his own fatal expense). She was also proud of high-achieving cousins and
spoke of the Cannons a lot. Finally I think one of her brother's said she grew
up knowing her father better than anyone else -- that he was devoted to Bea and
gave her the most attention. And maybe it was as simple as birth order as first
children usually relate to their father. In addition, he died while he was
young enough that most of her memories were of his strength and goodness. I
prefer to remember Bea in her strength and goodness, also. She was a lovely
transplant from a gentler time. I feel privileged to have known her.
Vella Evans
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