by Daniel "Bear" Kelley
My mother, Clarie Bauer Kelley, is an artist, though she will deny it every time you call her that. Her medium is slip-molded ceramics. It is not the molding that is the creative part; it is in the painting and glazing. She has had a ceramic shop as long as I can remember, and hundreds of molds. I remember one time, when we were moving from La Crosse, Wisconsin to Bloomington, Minnesota, my father and I chalked the outline of an 8’x12’ trailer on the floor of the garage. From there, we loaded her molds into the fictitious trailer, weighing each mold and placing it in the “trailer” to be sure of a proper weight and balance. We found that one layer of molds was as much as that trailer could take. Ceramic molds are heavy, and my mom has spent a lifetime hoisting those things around in her shop. One piece of ceramic that I wish I could have kept was a vase on which my mother had free-hand-painted a leopard. I don’t think she liked it that much, because I had to rescue it a few times from the trash. I think she finally won that battle, as I have no idea where that vase is. Pity, because I really liked it. She created many other wonderful things for Jodie and me. I have a lamp from my childhood that my mother made for me. It looks like a snare drum. Recently, she made a whole series of Southwestern (Taos and Santa Fe) ceramic tiles for a mirror project I have underway. Honestly, they are so beautiful, I haven’t the heart to hot-melt-glue them to the mirror!
Growing up, my mother loved to give birthday parties. She still loves theme parties (e.g. bingo or bunko or whatever), but I think she liked planning kid’s parties best. She once made a snake cake for my sister Sue, using several angel food ring cakes cut in half and spaced out to make several consecutive “S” shapes. For my father’s 40th birthday, she made a bundt cake. A friend of ours rigged up a light socket, and in the middle of the cake suddenly was a 40 watt light bulb. When my dad blew on the light bulb, it mysteriously went out. (Behind his back, he had unplugged the socket.) The most fabulous party of all, for me, at least, was one held on June 14th, the day before my birthday. My friends and I blew through all the games my mother had planned, and there was still a bunch of time left before the parents came back. My poor mom was so upset, because she had a bunch of screaming little boys on her hands, and nothing for them to do. Suddenly, all the boys rushed outside as a parade of fire trucks started rolling through the neighborhood. Out town of Blue Bell, Pennsylvania was celebrating the arrival of its new pumper truck, and had organized a special Flag Day celebration and parade. Firemen rode the backs of over 100 fire trucks, throwing candy, waving and blowing on the sirens. One of my friends thanked my mother, saying, “Boy, Mrs. Kelley, you sure throw the best parties!”
Halloween was another special time for my mother. She would hand-make all the costumes for us kids. There is a famous (or is that infamous?) picture of my two sisters dressed as daisies. Once, my sister Barb went as Charlie Brown, complete with a huge paper mache Charlie Brown head. My sister Marilyn dressed as the headless horseman once, with a special tie in the costume shirt through which she could see. Invariably, the people at the door would guess who we were, simply by the quality of the costumes. Some years back, my mom and dad went on a cruise. One of the evenings was a costume ball, and the cruise line provided all kinds of materials for the costumes. Of course, my mom and dad won first place. And if you want to read about the Halloween pumpkins, read my father’s web page. Robert Alan Kelley My mother put up with those pumpkins for years. She also got a record called “The Thrilling Chilling Sounds of the Haunted House.” Then, she got my dad to put the stereo speakers in the living room windows and crank up the volume. You could hear that record all over the neighborhood, and I still have it memorized.
I could go on about Christmas and Thanksgiving. There is a very famous story of my mother staying up very late at night to get the Christmas cards finished and mailed. My parents always did picture cards with us kids on them. Well, at that time of night, it becomes rather a mechanical ordeal to sign your name and stuff the envelope. Sometime in the wee hours, my mom suddenly realized that the cards she was handling did not have her kids on them!! Some ugly kid with his finger up his nose was on the card my mother was about to stuff into an envelope. And of course, the real question was "How many cards have I already addressed and stamped with this kid in them?" I don't know if she opened the cards and checked them, but I like to think some friends or relatives got them. I laugh that they didn't notice or were puzzled about the kid. Some would have gotten a big kick out of it---like Uncle Max.
My mother worked hard---VERY hard---to make every holiday special. Even losing a tooth involved some slight of hand from her to retrieve the tooth from under the pillow and insert a penny, nickel, dime and quarter. (I secretly wished for a half dollar, too! I was a greedy kid.) St. Nicholas day, Ground Hog Day (I kid you not!), Easter (of course), birthdays, and the special “Last Day of School” holiday. Ten days before the end of school, a counter would go up. 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1. On the last day of school, all the neighborhood kids crowded together at our place for an ice cream party. She always threatened to put up a counter for back to school, but I really don’t think she wanted the summers to end. She could even make a snow day special, though. Once in Massachusetts, we had an ice storm. It rained all night, freezing to everything on contact. At that time, she worked nights. She saw the conditions outside in the morning, and called home. She didn’t care whether they called school off or not, we were to stay home. It took her forever to get home, because her car was literally frozen to the pavement. Ice had gotten into the tire treads, cementing them to the pavement. But get home she did. Of course, right after she got home, the power went out. We had electric heat, so the heat went out, too. All the kitchen appliances were electric, so that was a problem. She picked right up, and lit a fire in the fireplace. We had hot chocolate cooked over the fire and toasted marshmallows and such.
She loves her kids so much, and I cannot believe I deserved such a fantastic mother. There is no possible way to thank her for all she did, and no possible way to apologize for all I put her through. Only half jokingly, she is fond of saying, "I had three girls and a revelation!" Most of all, I cannot imagine a better childhood, and of course, I owe it to her.
I love you, Mumbz!