I have a mother named AnnEtta. She taught going to nursing school and being a nurse at night, so she could be around for her kids during the day. She taught cheating, er playing Old Maid and laughing a little too loudly when she won. She taught crying whenever we drove from her driveway in Utah to return home to Las Vegas. She taught a well kept house and yard and always wear a house dress while you’re cleaning. She taught a well stocked cabinet of coloring books and crayon.
She taught “mashed potato soup”, which was what my dad called her potatoes when they were too liquidy. She taught a full candy jar at all times. She taught canned nuts. She taught watch “Meet me in St. Louis” and crying and Price is Right every morning. She taught patience with difficult kids and grandchildren. She taught keeping up with old friends and service. She taught being primary song leader and teaching, “I know Heavenly Father loves me.” (Still my dad’s favorite song.)
She taught countless figurines in a cabinet and telling me I would be getting one figurine I always admired when she passes away (tear), with slender and delicate fingers and a floral dress. She taught shelves of porcelain dolls, wooden fisherman from Taiwan and pretty containers. She taught walls full of old and new pictures of the grandchildren. She taught call your son every Sunday at 4 and ask and care how everyone is doing.
She taught opening up her home whenever we came through and taking us to McDonalds. She taught helping with our kids when Blake’s brother passed away and always asking how the Bells were doing. She taught visits to Las Vegas, always go to Hoover dam and the mall to buy the grandkids a gift. She taught caring for her husband in his sickness and old age. She taught word search puzzles. She taught faith in Jesus Christ. She taught cantaloupe and eggs every morning and raisin bread in the cupboard. She taught tight hugs and love and kindness. She taught family comes first.
Grandma AnnEtta is on the left.