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Show Volume XVI Issue I The Ogden Valley news Page December 15, 2008 She Took the Time to Stop and Smell the Roses . . . By Drienie Hattingh Johan and I left on November 21 and headed for Zion National Park located about five hours from our home in Eden. This was to be our anniversary gift to each other—three days in one of the most beautiful national parks in America. Added to the beauty of Zion would be the beauty of autumn in Southern Utah. Zion’s giant red, white, and black rock formations form the perfect backdrop for brilliant autumn colors. It was dark when we arrived. The silhouetted mountain images were familiar against the midnight blue, star-studded sky. A crescent moon hung above the scraggly mountain tops. The first call from Johan’s brother, Gerhard, came at 10 o’clock that night. All of us who now live in other countries, far from family, fear such a call. “Mammie’s not doing well,” Gerhard said. “Her organs are shutting down. She went into a coma.” I could see the sorrow on Johan’s face, and my heart broke. The second call came at 5 o’clock the following morning; Rita Hattingh had passed away. I packed our bags while Johan booked his flight to South Africa. He would be leaving for South Africa the following morning. While I waited for Johan, I walked outside into the cold predawn morning. A pale, translucent light infiltrated the valley as the day was breaking. The mammoth rock formations, yellow cottonwood, and orange oak trees materialized out of the shadows as if summoned by a magic wand. Tears filled my eyes at the beauty surrounding me and the irrevocable fact that I will not see Mammie Rita again. At the same time, I was grateful that Johan had spent three weeks with his mother in October when she first became ill. His sole purpose was to visit with her as much as possible and he did. He knew then that he would not see her again. Rita loved and cherished her children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. Sadly, two of her children, seven of her grandchildren, and two great-grand children lived in other parts of the world—America, New Zealand, and Australia. She was so proud of all her grandchildren. My heart ached for Eugene, Brenda, and Yolandi who would not see their Ouma again. I am thankful that Yolandi talked to her Ouma frequently on the phone, and happy that Brenda had the opportunity to visit South Africa recently. One of Brenda’s favorite memories from her time in South Africa was when she and Ouma Rita went to a mall in Johannesburg. Rita was tired and opted to wait outside one of the stores while Brenda went in to shop. Brenda was concerned about leaving Ouma alone. She rushed, but when she came out of the store, Rita sat nestled between three strangers on a bench, laughing and chatting as if they’d been friends for years. It was something Rita often did, taking time to make a new friend, stopping to enjoy the moment, to smell the roses, as they say. I shivered and pulled my warm coat closer. Looking at the skyscraping rock mountains in the translucent early morning light, I reminisced about Rita. Whenever a loved one passed on, and I could not attend their funeral, I found a peaceful place and took time to remember them. Zion was a good place to remember Rita Hattingh. I met her when I was a teenager, after falling in love with her son. She invited me to lunch and I remember how friendly she You Dream On. They also loved to sing How Great Thou Art and You’ll Never Walk Alone and You Are My Sunshine. And they loved Afrikaans folk songs. I can still see them—Mammie sitting at the keyboard and Pappie standing next to her, his elbow resting on the piano. When they sang love songs they looked at each other with eyes Majestic red rock mountains reflect in a pond in Zion National Park, Utah. Photo taken by professional photographer, Jim Halay who lives in Eden, Utah. was and how her smile reached her blue eyes and how she talked perfect Afrikaans. She was in the prime of her life, a beautiful woman with expressive blue eyes and a beautiful smile that was the same as the boy’s I’d fallen in love with. She was a mother of four children: Gerhard, Johan, Deon, and Erica. Most of her life stretched ahead of her then, and her beloved husband Dirk was at her side. Rita enjoyed gardening and loved roses, and she was, of course, an amazing cook. I learned to make savory tart from her and now it is my family’s favorite. Her granadilla cakes and milk tarts were exceptional. The children and grandchildren often congregated at Ouma and Oupa Hattingh’s house for Sunday lunch. The meal consisting of leg of lamb stuffed with garlic, caramelized pumpkin, mashed green beans, and roasted potatoes, and topped off with fruit salad and whipped cream—something we looked forward to all week. Rita never seemed to be able to make enough roasted potatoes for her three sons. After such a meal, she promised to make more next time and she did, but still, there never seemed to be enough. The women in the family began to realize that however many roasted potatoes there might be, it would never be enough. Braaivleis was another highlight with my mother-in-law’s curried lamb chops, sosaties, krummel pap, and sheba. These occasions always ended with Mammie Rita playing piano while she and Pappie Dirk sang songs like Jim Reeve’s, He’ll Have to Go, Perry Como’s I Wonder Who’s Kissing Her Now?, Patsy Cline’s Half as Much, Fats Domino’s Blue Berry Hill, and Floyd Cramer’s Send Me the Pillow That full of love. Rita played piano by ear. She could play any song by just listening to it. She loved to entertain visitors and would have a twinkle in her eyes and a smile on her face as her fingers glided over the piano and her beautiful voice produced one song after another. Her all-time favorite song she played was Scott Joplin’s The Entertainer, from The Sting. Once, when Mammie Rita visited us in Minnesota, we rented a piano especially for her two-month visit. Our house was filled with her music until the day she left. I invited our friends to meet her and she enthralled them with her songs. After each song they applauded loudly and did not want her to stop. A song that will forever stick in my mind was “Ai jai jai, I love you very much, ai jai jai, I think you’re swell…” This song, I think, was how Rita felt about her family, friends. . . and even strangers. She loved us all “very much” and thought “we were swell.” And Rita loved God’s critters. Birds flocked to her veranda and even went inside, eating crumbs from her table. Meerkats did the same. They knew they were welcome and loved. When one of the meerkats had babies, she walked into Rita’s front door, her young ones in procession. Meerkat Mamma came to show her brood to her friend, Rita. Yolandi inherited this capacity for love from her Ouma and would gently capture a bee or spider inside her house and release it outside; she will not even kill a fly. When the phone rang at 6 o’clock in the morning, sometimes even earlier, I knew, it was Mammie Rita. Sometimes she forgot if the time difference was 8 or 9 hours. She would say, “Kom, vertel nou vir Mammie, hoe gaan dit met jou? En met Johan, en Yolandi? En hoe gaan dit met Brenda? En Eugene?” And, lately, she wanted to know all about her great grandchild Simon Johan, who she only saw in pictures. Johan loved to joke with his mother during their long distance conversations and they laughed a lot. We are going to miss those calls. Rita was a faithful Christian and gave thanks for her family every day. Frequently she told us that she was not rich in earthly goods but she was awfully rich in her children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. Countless times she reminded Betsie, Lynette, and myself, “You are my children, just like my sons are.” The big heartache in Rita’s life was when Johan’s father, Dirk, passed away 22 years ago. During the last couple of months, she often talked about him. She missed him, she said, and longed to be with him. Before Rita became ill, she thoroughly enjoyed life and she had a humorous side that showed itself often. One such time was when she visited us in Minnesota. We went to Wisconsin Dells and took a boat trip to an island in a lake. The captain warned that we had to be back in time, and that he would not wait for anyone. Happily we embarked on one of the lovely trails and often stopped to admire the unique plants and rock formations. We were lost in time, enjoying our surroundings. Then I saw the time. As we ran to the docks Rita called out, “That’s me! I stop to smell the roses and then I miss the boat.” Mammie Rita, thank you for reminding us to keep the faith, And that a stranger is only a friend you do not know That you have to stop and smell the roses And that there’s always time for a cup of tea And a song or two . . . SEASON’S GREETINGS TO O G D E N VALLEY As the year comes to a close we’d like to express our THANKS for the privilege of living and doing business in this beautiful place. It’s been a difficult year for many; personally as well as economically. This Valley and this Country have been through many tough times before, and pulling together we can get through the challenges we each may face in the coming year. In the spirit of the season, we wish everyone Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, and a prosperous New Year. Thank you for your support, friendship and business through the years, The staff and crew of Wasatch Paving. |