|
Richer than gold...
|
13 May 2002
|
previous • current • next
 |
For all the times you gently picked me up,
When I fell down,
For all the times you tied my shoes
And tucked me into bed,
Or needed something
But put me first instead.
For everything we shared,
The dreams, the laughter,
And the tears,
I love you with a "Special Love"
That deepens every year..
(Author Unknown)
|
My mother…
She was born in 1945 to a minister and his wife. She was the fourth of ten children. Two of her siblings died shortly after birth, so she grew up with two sisters and five brothers.
I don’t know much about my mother as she was growing up. I just realized that as I was writing this. That needs to be remedied.
She was a young bride, marrying at nineteen years old. Just before she was married, she found out that she was pregnant. Shortly after giving birth to my brother, her husband began to physically abuse her. She was living in Washington at the time, and working in northern California at a very prestigious hotel restaurant. When she couldn’t take the abuse anymore, wanting to protect herself and her little boy, she packed her bags and drove back home to stay with her parents in Minneapolis. My brother was just a little guy at this time – a couple of years old.
I know that must have been hard for Mom. After all, her father was a minister. There were values and reputations that needed to be upheld. However, they took care of her. They were family. Family has always been important.
While there, Mom began working at Ma Bell, the telephone company. Remember when you called “0” and talked to an operator who connected you to the number that you were calling? Well, she was one of those people. ;-) She was a telephone operator. One night, she received a call from a man who admired her voice. She does have a beautiful voice, especially on the phone. That voice is what drew my father to her.
He began calling her and finally asked her out. She accepted. Yes, she accepted the proposal of a date with a man whom she had never met in person. (Yeah, this is important to remember when thinking that she and my father have such a hard time with me meeting people from online. Heheh.)
My mom was beautiful – stunningly beautiful. She wore a cute little gold-yellow dress that had a little three-fourths sleeve. Remember that this was the 60’s, so you know the style – short skirt, sleeveless dress, little jacket. She also wore a little hat that matched the dress. She still has that dress. When I’m home, I often peek into her closet and pull it out. It’s a size four. Amazing. She is not a tall woman, so imagine how little she must have been.
She went out with my father that night, and sparks must have flown because next thing she knew, she and my brother were moving to Wisconsin to be with my dad. He had actually been in Minnesota on business (he was a pilot at the time) and at a hotel when he heard my mother’s voice. And the rest is, as they say, history.
Mom and Dad lived together for a while before finding out that she was pregnant. Just weeks before my mother gave birth to my older sister, they married at City Hall. The wed on May 10th and my sister was born on June 2nd. Yep, that close. The picture of my mother on her wedding day hung in our living room for many years. It was 1968 – she had brown hair with frosted highlights swept up into a beautiful beehive hairdo and those cateye glasses. Stunning. ;-)
Barely a year later, my mother gave birth to me. I was, of course, a blessing. Heheh. Then three years later, she gave birth to the last of us, my baby sister.
I don’t really have a great memory about my childhood; I just recollect little things here and there. For instance, I remember my mom going to the beauty salon every week to have her hair done. The taxi would show up at the house, and she would be gone for a couple of hours while her ‘do was kept up. Golly, I wish she would afford herself that luxury now.
I also remember something that I’ll never forget about my mom; she read to us all the time. Of course when we were little tikes, she read picture books with us and encouraged us to read. But I remember as I was older, able to read myself, going into Mom’s room every night, and kneeling by her bed or snuggling on her bed beside her, my sisters also there. She’d read us chapter books, her voice so soothing and beautiful to listen to. The book that stands out most in my mind is Escape to Witch Mountain. We were mesmerized by the stories that she would read. Never ever will I forget that gift that she gave to us.
You may have tangible
wealth untold;
Caskets of jewels
and coffers of gold.
Richer than I
you can never be -
I had a mother
who read to me.
Strickland Gillilan
“Richer Than Gold”
(1869-1954)
|
 |
My mom has the most beautiful smile. It lights up her whole face, and igniting a room full of smiles wherever she goes. She loves people and gets along with everyone.
However, she has a sharp tongue when she wants to be. As she is quick to love and laugh, she is also quick to anger, especially if a loved one is hurt in any way. She’s the first one to hold and want to heal any hurts that I might have.
Mom and I have been through a lot together. There was a time in my early teen years (13 or 14) when I was an absolutely horrendous daughter. I acted like a brat much of the time, and I would often yell at my mother for no apparent reason. Fortunately (for my hinder), that phase didn’t last very long. I still hug my mother when I see her and squeeze her tightly, whispering in her ear, “I’m sooooooooo sorry, Mom!” I don’t think that I can ever say ‘I’m sorry’ enough to make up for the brat that I was for those few very long months. (In fact, it might even have been a shorter phase than that, but… who knows? Heheh.)
As we’ve all grown up and moved out of the house, Mom has always been one of the first persons to always lend a helping hand. She accepted all that she was faced with – not always quietly – and became a better person for it. So did we, as her family.
While we were growing up, she had a number of little jobs here and there. I remember one where she worked in a factory in a nearby town. I was in junior high during that time, and sometimes she would bring home her work. She’d get paid extra money for the boxes that she folded. We would all sit around the living room, watching television, and fold boxes upon boxes. They were the little ones that little tools would be put into – like little envelope openers and such. We’d finish off a box in one night, our little fingers sore and tired. But it was fun to help Mom out like that. It was sort of a bonding experience, so to speak.
She worked here and there, but was mostly a stay-at-home mom. It did us a world of good, especially since we’d be little truants when she was working! Speaking of school, Mom always made our habitual tardiness (yes, it’s hereditary) a little bit more fun by sending notes to school with us for our teachers. “Little Maggie was late for school today because we had to stop and watch the ducks cross the road.” Now that I am a teacher I realize how much of a pain those little notes were, but I always remember laughing because of them.
Today my mom is a grandmother. She has eight grandsons and two granddaughters. She works for my sister, who owns a bridal shop, and takes care of her grandbabies almost anytime my sisters ask it of her. She loves her family, and it shows every day.
Although there have been tough times in my life when my family was less than proud of me, I knew that deep down, I always had the love of my mother. She doesn’t always agree with what her children do, but she loves them anyway.
I hope that one day I am as good a mom as she is.
I love my mom.
(Images found on a free graphics site. If they are yours and copyrighted, please message me immediately.)
|
|
|
|
|
|
![[ Registered ]](/images/registry.gif){kind=small}
