The Hottest Day of the Year
Mom, Mary Wagner, celebrating her 1981 birthday on her parents’ farm outside of Remsen, Iowa
“You were born on the hottest day of the year!”
This was the story Grandpa would tell my mom on her birthday each year. The oldest of the nine Elmer & Marvel Pick children, Mom was an only child for a mere ten months. Each year, without fail, Grandpa would recount to his oldest daughter how she was born on the hottest day of the year, 1944, in a hospital with no air conditioning.
A couple of years ago I asked Mom which birthday celebration was her favorite, as she had had 70-something under her belt by this time. Her response was quick without pinpointing an actual year.
“I just miss getting the phone call from my parents. Every year Dad would tell me how I was born on the hottest day of the year.”
When I was growing up, Mom’s summer birthday of July 9th was often celebrated with our extended family. Our birthday celebrations most times included a home-cooked meal with a simple cake enjoyed around our kitchen table. My brothers and I were raised in Remsen, Iowa, the same small town where our parents were raised, and where both sets of our grandparents lived.
This was life as we knew it through the 70s and early 80s, with all of us enjoying our days together. We didn’t think about a future that wouldn’t include grandparents that were a short walk or drive away. Only now do we understand how lucky we were to have these golden years of small-town living.
In the mid-80s my parents moved out of Iowa. As new empty-nesters, Mom and Dad jumped at an opportunity for Dad to sell his business and for them to go West. Mom’s birthday celebrations continued in the heat of Kingman, Arizona. Rather than sharing cake around her new kitchen table, Mom would instead enjoy a phone call from her parents. The landline would ring on July 9th every year from 1987 until 1999. My grandma would start the birthday call and then pass the phone to Grandpa. Mom would listen as her dad would retell the story of her birth.
“You were born on the hottest day of the year! The hospital had no air conditioning…”
With my parents living 1,400 miles from me, our birthday celebrations had a different feel from those I enjoyed as a child. Mom and Dad would travel to Omaha for many of my boys’ birthday celebrations and milestones and then head north and visit their parents in Iowa. As time kept churning along, we found time for each other via phone, plane, or car. My little family frequently flew west, packing diaper bags and using an adult flight to carry a fly-free toddler. Memories were made, full of adventures with energetic grandparents and cousins who lived cross-country.
Although different from my childhood with grandparents a walk or bike ride away, my Arizona parents spent a lot of quality time in the Midwest through the 90s. We made our memories In Arizona, Nebraska, and Iowa cherishing the time allotted. As the boys grew older and with less flexibility for extended travel, my parents made more trips our way to both visit and help out.
In the late 90s, Mom’s parents began having health issues. Her travel schedule was now focused on a caretaking role. Living out of town and knowing the burden that can be placed on those children living nearby, Mom wanted to take her turn in caring for her parents. For well over a year Mom would fly back every six weeks to stay at her parents’ home in Remsen. She would fly into Omaha, where we would pick her up and sneak in time with my family, before her travel to Iowa. Although the time spent with my boys was sporadic, Mom would settle in with them as though little time elapsed from her last visit. Ignoring my long lists of scheduled activities, she would instead opt to spend their time on what most piqued the boys’ curiosity at the moment. Products from their impromptu art projects and sewing lessons still adorn my house today.
Mom’s dad, Elmer Pick, died of cancer in 2000. Marvel Pick, her mom, died just a few months later. Losing her parents so quickly and close together was difficult but Mom always professes how grateful she is for the time with them in their final months. While still appreciating the early years of having her parents close by, she re-focused on quality time when visiting was no longer an easy ride across town.
With the late 2000s came my divorce. Without hesitation, my parents packed and showed up at my door in Nebraska, staying until my world settled and I was equipped to move on to my new chapter. A co-parenting agreement was produced that included two weeks in the summer with me alone (kids with their dad). My divorce was raw and I numbed at the thought of this aloneness. My parents, now back in Arizona, quickly recognized the need to fill my calendar and suggested a road trip across the western states. With me in the back seat and my parents in the front, I mapped the daily route. The only known was my return date back to Omaha. We traversed on an epic road trip with no real plan, creating adventures as we went. Ultimately we visited Nevada, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Montana, Yellowstone Park, and the Black Hills. The focus wasn’t on our itinerary but on our spending time together as I eased into my new life.
It was my parents who helped me understand that time is my most precious asset. As I nurtured the relationships in my new chapter, the time necessary to feed my corporate life didn’t balance. My dad’s gauge of success has always been by asking the simple question “Are you enjoying what you are doing?” When I hesitated and gave a litany of excuses and trade-offs on why happiness wasn’t attainable right now, I was left in silence. Without preaching but leading by example, I was taught the high worth of my time and how best to spend it.
I am often told how lucky I am to have my parents (of which I completely agree). From their ongoing support of their family to how they seem to age to perfection, Mom and Dad continue to exude health and happiness. There are so many lessons learned from their success in living a good life, but the one that stands out to me most is my parents’ great relationship with time. They are as comfortable with time as they are respectful of it.
There is no trying to be younger than they are, wishing to go back in time. They are comfortable being the best versions of themselves today while respecting the present value of how they spend their days, hours, and years. Knowing the life clock doesn’t stop ticking as long as we are living, they enjoy each new day and remind me to do the same.
I am now an empty nester and a seven-hour drive from my parents. They prefer not to travel these days, so now I go to them. Although no one has kept score over the years, I am happy to take my turn making the drive. For the last two years, I have been able to celebrate my mom’s birthday with her. Mom still misses hearing her dad enthusiastically recount the story of her birth, but instead enjoys the memory. Her birthday this year was filled with family time via phone, Zoom, and in person. She chose to beat the heat on a very hot day in Arizona (close to the hottest of the year) with air-conditioned shopping and dinner. A highlight for Mom was a video call that included all eight of her siblings.
As is typical on my trips to Kingman, Mom and I spend time working on our family history project. Curating old photos and videos of family celebrations, we are reminded of the days when there was no thought of life outside of our family in Remsen. These moments are now distant memories with many loved ones gone. The focus is still on the gift of the day, whether the hottest day in 1944 or a really hot day in 2023 shared with loved ones at the kitchen table and through a Zoom log-in.
Continuing our birthday weekend staying inside Mom and Dad’s cool house with drapes drawn, Mom sifted through old photos while I posted stories to the family website elmerandmarvel.com. We love reliving the past while meandering through our day together.
Although regaling in the past isn’t of interest to Dad, he occasionally checks in on us as we spend hours hovering over the photos and computer screens in Mom’s office.
“Are you still having fun?”
The answer remains the same: “Yes! We are having a ball!”
