[Fandfs] Finally, time to remember

["partridgeray@tiscali.co.uk" <partridgeray@tiscali.co.uk>]

Reading through my favourite eulogies from the past few weeks – from 
Laura and Barbara James and Katie Goldschmidt and many others - I feel 
so jealous of those of you who grew up with Cynthia and had from her 
that special understanding of what makes children grow and expand and 
learn to think and feel.  As Barbara said, no roughhousing in the 
living room and not being mean were THE RULES.  I so love the idea of 
digging the MIssissloppy in the driveway and getting the sea to make 
precious stones out of coloured glass.  I remember when I first came to 
the Highlands, watching with wonder as a trail of youngsters came and 
went, spending however long they could sitting on the couch and 
trawling through the comic bin and READING! 



I came from an utterly conventional childhood; happy but with minimal 
input from my dear mother for whom life seemed to be drinking, smoking 
and playing bridge, punctuated by good works and fond as she was of her 
youngest, she would not have been caught dead digging for bloodworms on 
the beach at the crack of dawn with a gang of teenagers and Arthur B 
Eikenberry.



I remember sitting in the living room in stunned silence when I first 
arrived, no idea of what to make of this incredible world; an endless 
stream of people coming and going, the wild and confident and 
interesting and shy and boisterous and kind and friendly and quiet and 
completely ‘other’.  And presiding over this extraordinary and 
unpredictable environment, the most amazing Mother of them all.  She 
nurtured, she stimulated, she taught by word and deed and act and 
suggestion and plain old straight talk.  Susan, you stink! she would 
say as I approached having just smoked a cigarette.  I was crushed and 
horrified but started to think that my lifetime’s experience – then of 
19 whole years – spent surrounded by heavy smokers was not the only way 
to go. Shame it took so many more to actually stop, but I never ceased 
to think how pleased Cynthia would be when I did.



She taught me how to ‘do my share’,  just by letting me be one of her 
family and so expected to set the table, clear the table, load and 
unload the dishwasher, etc.  And still let me get away with not washing 
up the pans in the sink.  She put up with all my loves and unloves, 
never condemning my bad judgement but listening and advising wisely.  
She quickly became the mother that mine had never been able to be and I 
cherished her for that.

Like many others, I learned ‘waste not want not’ with which I have 
bored my children all their lives.  I don’t think the idea of NOT 
WASTING THINGS had ever occurred to me before I came to the 
Highlands.  



She taught me so much about children and mothering and not fussing 
about the things that don’t matter.  The famous story of Midge falling 
asleep in the plate of spaghetti springs to mind. She taught me that if 
you heat a child’s food up until it’s REALLY hot you then have to wait, 
child screaming with hunger, until it’s cool enough for child to eat.  
Why not avoid the middle step?  Kids love frozen peas.  

I can hear the big wheels and shouts of glee on the path down to the 
drive.  Complete tolerance but NO fighting NO biting.



She taught me to keep chopping wood; it keeps you fit and is totally 
satisfying.



She gave me my surrogate family; Honey and Molly and Bee and John and 
Penelope and Tasha.  And a place where I feel utterly at home whenever 
I return.



I too have the RevereWare sauce pans, Laura. Special offers from Purina 
Dog Chow! They have seen me through the last 30 years and show no sign 
of letting me down; Cynthia there with me every time I put one on the 
stove. I expect them to be handed down for generations.  



I treasure the time I spent with her last Easter, sitting by her bed in 
the morning or in the early spring sunshine on the patio, chatting 
about the past, being amazed by her memory and insight. She always made 
me feel I had a special place in her heart and that meant so much to 
me.  I know many, many others feel the same; she had space to keep us 
all there.



Susan Clifford Rayner





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