Here is a wonderful tribute written by Beverly's daughter Darilyn Rice ..
Beverly Anne Greenwood Mathis 2/26/30-12/28/10
As a young girl growing up in the valley, we could always tell the seasons by what colors our tongues were. In the fall they were orange, in the winter they were green or red and in the spring they were lavender. My mother had decided to take up cake decorating. She took classes and my father and the three of us kids were the recipients of her many assignments. The best part was the refrigerator full of leftover frostings in a variety of colors in their pastry bags stuffed into real tupperware, the kind you actually had to burp in the '60s. We would stand in front of that Kenmore with those bags poised above our open mouths and squeeze funny shaped streams of frosting straight down. I heard recently that some bakeries are now selling frosting shots. Well, if we had only known then that it would be all the rage, we'd be millionaires today!
I once saw a movie called Multiplicity with Michael Keaton. It is about a guy who copies himself so he can be everywhere and do everything he needs to do. After raising my own two daughters, I am beginning to think that is what my mother must have done. There is no other explanation as to how she could have accomplished all that she did. She was the team mom, the room mom, the PTA president, the Bluebird Leader and the Job's Daughter Advisor. She helped with homework, Science projects and dioramas. She sat through dance classes, diving meets and color guard competitions. She drove carpools of screaming girls from the mountains to the desert to the sea. And she did all that while she cooked, cleaned and worked a part-time job. She truly was a shining example of the kind of woman I hoped to be.
I'm not sure what kinds of things mom taught her only son, you'll have to ask him. But I can tell you the kinds of things she taught her daughters. To start, never wear white after Labor Day. Well, unless you own a house in the Hamptons and I don't, that doesn't hold so true today. Don't mix your metals, also not true today. Make sure your purse and your shoes match, also not true today. Don't tell your husband how much you paid for color guard costumes or prom dresses for your daughters. Yep, that one pretty much still holds true today.
I think the best word I can use to describe my mother is endearing. Everyone who ever met her would fall in love with her. And sometimes that would include the butcher, the pharmacist or my old boyfriends who would show up for their Santa cookies for years after we'd gone our separate ways. She had a way about her that could get things done with a smile rather than a harsh word. She spent a lifetime collecting treasures like teapots but the treasures that were dearest were her friends and family.
As a girl I loved to sit and watch my parents dance. They would spin a few rounds in the family room with dad's stereo blaring. For a few years, mom and I worked at the same community hospital and they would have an annual Christmas party. I can remember vividly sitting at a table then as a young adult watching them dance, my mother in a lovely chiffon cocktail dress and dad in his good suit. What a graceful couple they were out on that dance floor. The last few years have been difficult ones. The only solace now is knowing that my father's mind is clear and my mother's legs are strong and free of pain and they are dancing together once again.
Jimmy Widner (1958)
Here is a wonderful tribute written by Beverly's daughter Darilyn Rice ..
Beverly Anne Greenwood Mathis 2/26/30-12/28/10
As a young girl growing up in the valley, we could always tell the seasons by what colors our tongues were. In the fall they were orange, in the winter they were green or red and in the spring they were lavender. My mother had decided to take up cake decorating. She took classes and my father and the three of us kids were the recipients of her many assignments. The best part was the refrigerator full of leftover frostings in a variety of colors in their pastry bags stuffed into real tupperware, the kind you actually had to burp in the '60s. We would stand in front of that Kenmore with those bags poised above our open mouths and squeeze funny shaped streams of frosting straight down. I heard recently that some bakeries are now selling frosting shots. Well, if we had only known then that it would be all the rage, we'd be millionaires today!
I once saw a movie called Multiplicity with Michael Keaton. It is about a guy who copies himself so he can be everywhere and do everything he needs to do. After raising my own two daughters, I am beginning to think that is what my mother must have done. There is no other explanation as to how she could have accomplished all that she did. She was the team mom, the room mom, the PTA president, the Bluebird Leader and the Job's Daughter Advisor. She helped with homework, Science projects and dioramas. She sat through dance classes, diving meets and color guard competitions. She drove carpools of screaming girls from the mountains to the desert to the sea. And she did all that while she cooked, cleaned and worked a part-time job. She truly was a shining example of the kind of woman I hoped to be.
I'm not sure what kinds of things mom taught her only son, you'll have to ask him. But I can tell you the kinds of things she taught her daughters. To start, never wear white after Labor Day. Well, unless you own a house in the Hamptons and I don't, that doesn't hold so true today. Don't mix your metals, also not true today. Make sure your purse and your shoes match, also not true today. Don't tell your husband how much you paid for color guard costumes or prom dresses for your daughters. Yep, that one pretty much still holds true today.
I think the best word I can use to describe my mother is endearing. Everyone who ever met her would fall in love with her. And sometimes that would include the butcher, the pharmacist or my old boyfriends who would show up for their Santa cookies for years after we'd gone our separate ways. She had a way about her that could get things done with a smile rather than a harsh word. She spent a lifetime collecting treasures like teapots but the treasures that were dearest were her friends and family.
As a girl I loved to sit and watch my parents dance. They would spin a few rounds in the family room with dad's stereo blaring. For a few years, mom and I worked at the same community hospital and they would have an annual Christmas party. I can remember vividly sitting at a table then as a young adult watching them dance, my mother in a lovely chiffon cocktail dress and dad in his good suit. What a graceful couple they were out on that dance floor. The last few years have been difficult ones. The only solace now is knowing that my father's mind is clear and my mother's legs are strong and free of pain and they are dancing together once again.