Constable: Breaking mother-in-law stereotype
Growing up watching TV sitcoms, I was led to believe that the most meddlesome, critical, annoying and vile creature on Earth was the mother-in-law.
The biggest promoter of that stereotype was Endora, the mother-in-law on “Bewitched.” An actual witch, Endora didn't even bother to learn her son-in-law's name, once turned him into a werewolf and generally did everything she could to make his life miserable.
Jokes about mothers-in-law being interfering and demanding were so popular when I was a kid, NBC actually created a sitcom called “The Mothers-in-Law” to capitalize on that stereotype.
My mother-in-law's funeral is today.
Mary Jean TerHorst, always “Jean” to me and most of her friends, died Friday at age 80 in the sunroom of the family home in Mundelein, where she and her husband of 57 years, Paul, lived after the three daughters they reared in Buffalo Grove grew up.
Jean had a series of health issues in recent months that were complicated by a stroke on May 4. Between then and Jean's death, daughters Cheryl (my wife), Karen, of Elgin, and Laurie, of Colorado, all spent many days and nights with Jean and Paul, as Jean bounced between hospitals and a rehab center before coming home to die.
Calling Jean my mother-in-law seems odd to me, because she was so not like those mothers-in-law on TV and in punchlines.
One of my first official family gatherings with Paul and Jean was as their daughter's new boyfriend at the surprise birthday party for Jean's 50th birthday. I remember that Jean, who didn't want a big fuss made on her behalf, seemed a bit embarrassed by all the attention, and the gift of a cane with turn signals and a horn was not her idea of a clever gag, but she handled it all with grace and appreciation.
“Thank you for coming,” she told me. She meant that.
Now older than Jean was on that day, I have new appreciation for the attributes she brought to that party, and to every other event she attended during the past three decades.
While we often turned to Jean for advice, especially in the days after Cheryl and I became parents, not once did she offer unsolicited opinions on how we were managing our kids, our marriage or our careers.
I suspect that her demeanor was honed during a career as a grade schoolteacher, making sure that her young students felt loved and safe, before she taught them how to read books or solve math problems.
She made me feel comfortable before I became part of her family. And she made my parents and siblings feel comfortable, too. While married couples often fight about whose in-laws they'll spend a holiday with, the TerHorsts (or as my wife writes it, terHorsts) and the Constables never voiced an unkind word about the other side of the family, and sometimes shared holidays together.
A private person, Jean became a welcome addition in the classic car community adored by her husband. She logged a lot of miles in Packards and Auburns. When their daughters were young, the TerHorsts took driving vacations coast to coast, and somehow Jean also managed to pack a wonderful assortment of sandwiches and picnic food.
Her daughters are strong, passionate, smart, funny, kind women.
Grandma Jean welcomed her six grandsons and one granddaughter into her home as often as she could. She never raised her voice or complained about times when a brood that size could get a little rambunctious.
And she always made an extra effort to make things fun for the kids. In addition to books, toys and games, she stockpiled a vast assortment of plates, cups and silly straws for Christmas, Easter, Halloween, New Year's Eve and other holidays.
Jean never tasted coffee, recoiling at the very smell of it, but she bought a coffee maker to appease me and her other sons-in-law, Perry and Dave.
Jean was kind, gentle and generous. The word people use most to describe her is “sweet.”
During her last visit with my three sons and me, we told Jean that we loved her. With only the strength to mouth the words, she told us she loved us, too. Then she whispered, “Thank you for coming.”