Moms used to be more versatile. If you were in the back seat of the Buick, they could discipline you from the driver’s seat and never swerve or knock the ashes off of their Marlboro Red.

My mom never smoked, so it’s possible that without a cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth, she was even more effective. At barely over five feet tall, she could reach over the front seat of her Electra 225 Limited and get to my sister or me, regardless of where we wiggled to in the back seat. There was no escaping. And we knew it.

In Ashdown, Arkansas, everyone’s mom was the same. And I’m certain that they either had ESP or a secret mom network. Because they all knew not only what their kids were doing, they knew what every other mom’s kids were doing.

If we acted up anywhere in public, mom had no problem solving that issue right then and there. If we were acting up and our mom wasn’t around, mom somehow knew what we’d done.

(Arriving home)

Mom: “So, how was your trip to the Piggly Wiggly?”

My sister and me in unison: “Fine.”

Mom: “Any problems?”

My sister and me in unison: “No, ma’am.”

Mom: “So, you two weren’t arguing about Lucky Charms on the cereal aisle?”

Me: “How did you know?”

Mom: “Scotty’s mom told me.”

Me: “How did she know? They’re on vacation in Cleveland.”

Mom: “Don’t backtalk me.”

Moms always knew things they shouldn’t have known. And back then, we didn’t have a telephone. Also, there were no CB radios and certainly no cellphones.

This level of ninja is what made moms the most feared entity on the planet.

Sure, we loved our dads, but moms were really the ones who engineered, implemented, and oversaw our upbringing.

Dads were only brought in as backup.

Mom: “What have I told you two about arguing in public?”

My sister and me in unison: “Not to do it.”

Mom: “And what did I say would happen the next time you did it?”

My sister and me in unison: “That you’d tell dad.”

Mom: “So, that’s what I’m going to do.”

The only thing worse than dinner not being on the table and Huntley/Brinkley’s nightly news report not being on the TV when dad walked in the door at 5:30, was dad not being able to partake of either because he had to deal with us.

“Do you want to know what your children did today?” was not what our dad wanted to hear ever, and he certainly didn’t want to hear it when he had worked hard all day and was ready to eat and unwind.

So, my sister and I learned how to get out of a dad encounter. I was the one who had seen and learned the art of negotiation from my dad haggling at yard sales, estate sales, and flea markets. If both parties wanted something, you simply had to come up with the best deal for each to walk away happy.

If I offered for my sister and me to clean the house every day for a week, mom might consider not telling dad when we had gone astray. If we had argued in the grocery store, then cleaning the house daily for a week might keep her from telling dad what we had done. But if one of us had also thrown a punch and it was witnessed, then it was going to take more than cleaning to get out of that.

Mom: “Scotty’s mom said you grabbed the Lucky Charms from your sister and then hit her on the arm.”

Me: “It was just a tap.”

Mom: “Your dad’s going to tap you when he gets home.”

Me: “May I go to Cleveland?”

A car wash and vacuuming the Buick might have to be included as well. We’d do just about anything to make sure that dad was not going to be involved.

It was one thing if we acted up in the grocery store, but acting up in church was the worst offense possible. If you got caught talking or acting up during church, mom didn’t even bother to involve dad. She’d grab the closest piece of skin on you and drag you down the aisle and out the door.

And every person in there knew what was coming your way.

I’m not sure how the preacher ever stayed on topic when some kid was begging as he or she was being removed from the building. The best one was the kid whose mom was taking him out and just before the door closed yelled, “Ya’ll pray for me!”

And that’s what every kid today needs. An attentive mother who cares that their child learns responsibility, and prayer. It shows for anyone who had both.

Especially if their best friend’s mom was in Cleveland.

 

© 2026 John Moore

John’s new book,“Write of Passage: Vol. 3,” and his other writings are available on Amazon. Write him at John@TheCountryWriter.com.