My Mother passed away three years ago today. A repost of an oldie in memory of her.
A year ago today I lost my oldest and dearest Friend. My Friend was always there for me…57 years and 31 days…always within reach and available.
While growing up, my Friend was my greatest cheerleader.
My Friend taught me about life, love, acceptance, empathy, loyalty and persistence.
My Friend and I could talk about anything, and my Friend always gave the best advice…most of the time.
My Friend taught me to love reading, how to understand baseball, how to make my own clothes, how to sooth a two-year old with a fever, how to frost a cake, and how to make deviled eggs.
I miss my Friend more than I could have ever imagined. I still go to pick up the phone to share some exciting news or gossip with my Friend, and then I remember that my Friend…..is gone
My oldest and dearest Friend was my Mother. She took a piece of my heart when she left, but left so much here for me to cherish and remember.
She was there when I entered this world.
I was there when she left this world.
This is the way life goes. I wish life was easier.
When I was a teen in 1970, I remember going door to door to collect money and raising pennies with bake sales and car washes. You see, my Mom wanted the small village we lived in to pay tribute to all the Veterans in the Village, whether living or deceased.
My Mother had an idea and she would not give up.
This was a time when Viet Nam Veterans were treated with disrespect and scorn by some of their fellow Americans. My brother served in Viet Nam bravely and valiantly and our family was very proud of him. Living in our small village also were many men and women that had served in Viet Nam, WWII and the Korean War.
My Mother had a mission, and she would not give up.
The Senior Citizens Club, The Boy Scouts, and The Girl Scouts, along with the help and generosity of the entire village, raised the $3000.00 needed for this project.
Over the past twenty odd years the monument had been forgotten. Something you drive past everyday becomes invisible. When it became apparent that the Village was no longer taking care of the monument, who stepped up? My Mom. She decorated that monument for every season and holiday…spring, summer, autumn, Christmas, 4th of July, Halloween…you name it…she decorated. She tended that monument as if it were her own. (Well, we always thought of it as hers) Several years ago, when she could no longer drive, the decorating was passed onto my Sister, My sons, and me.
Recently the Village decided to relocate the Veteran’s monument to one of their parks. All the old-timers were upset and worried that it would be relegated to a location that would not reflect its importance and grandeur. Needless to say, my Mother was heart-broken enraged at the suggestion.
The monument was moved with some Senior Citizens watching and without much fanfare. The re-dedication was scheduled for the morning of Memorial Day, and despite her health problems, and the heat, she insisted on going. To her surprise, the new location was perfect, and herthe monument looks magnificent.
During the ceremony the Mayor pointed out my Mother, she had been pushed to the front of the crowd by my Son so she wouldn’t miss anything.. He declared that the monument wouldn’t exist if she hadn’t worked so hard so many years ago to make it a reality. She was beaming. He recalled the history of the monument and thanked her for all she had done. More beaming.
She had an impossible dream…but she did it.
My Brother – retired United States Navy, and the star of the day….. my Mother, in front of her impossible dream
I wrote this two years ago for my friend. It’s 2013…another year, another birthday. I think I will re-post this every year for you Old Friend
I have an old Friend. Friends since the eighth grade. Who would have guessed, we were so different. But in our differences we found our “same-ness”. We had our own language, our own words. We talked on the phone all night or until one of our Mothers caught us. We both almost flunked Typing our Senior year because we didn’t do the assignments…we typed notes to each other. We put thousands of miles on our parent’s cars just driving around. We were nerds. I think we probably still are. We don’t talk on the phone all night anymore. Our lives changed many years ago. But, when we see each other…it’s just like old times. We are old friends. Happy Birthday Old Friend!
What would us Gals have done without “Dear Abby”. She talked about things that we would never ask our Mothers.
What do you do about a cheating husband? (No matter if you were single….you still needed to know what to do)
What about the neighbor that lets his dog poop on your lawn? (Put the poop in a paper bag, put it on the owner’s porch)
What do you say to the nosy lady who listens to your phone calls on the party line? (If you don’t know what a party line is, then you probably don’t know who Dear Abby is)
What can I do about my Husband’s Uncle George that gets drunk at every family get together and grabs your ass? (Put water in the vodka bottle at the next party)
And so on, and so on. We learned everything we needed to know from Dear Abby.
I haven’t felt good enough lately to compose a post so I will be re-posting some of my favorites. I like this one
I have a wonderful little cat named Bootsie. She is a black and white Tuxedo cat. They are called Tuxedo cats because it looks like they are wearing a tiny tuxedo…cute? I call my cat “Bootsie” because it look like she has on tiny little boots…cute?
She fetches, which I understand a lot of cats do. So funny.
Not only does she fetch, she hunts. At night, as soon as the lights go out.
First I hear her running up and down the stairs and tearing through the house. Then she lets out a scary howling sound that reminds you of a cat in heat…no… a scary Halloween possessed cat in heat. Kinda like this…but louder and not so friendly like.
She then brings me all her hunting treasures on puts them all over my bed. Twist ties, milk carton rings, fuzzy little cat toys, and ping pong balls. Then she sleeps on my head.
I love my cat Bootsie. My dog Tootsie just wants to play with her…or kill her. I’m not sure.
Too funny not to include on a post about cats! Enjoy!
Insomnia is a cruel joke. I lay in bed and count sheep, say the ABC’s backwards, redecorate my whole house in my mind…..nothing. I lay there and wait and hope I fall asleep before the dawn breaks. Sometimes I do, most often I don’t. It’s an endless circle and I’m getting seasick.
No day is so bad it can’t be fixed with a nap. ~Carrie Snow
If a man had as many ideas during the day as he does when he has insomnia, he’d make a fortune. ~Griff Niblack
Without enough sleep, we all become tall two-year-olds. ~JoJo Jensen, Dirt Farmer Wisdom, 2002
When you have insomnia, you’re never really asleep, and you’re never really awake. ~From the movie Fight Club, based on the novel by Chuck Palahniuk
Our Family has a secret. It’s a pretty big secret. But I think it is time to tell.
You see, our Mother is Mrs. Santa Claus. The real deal.
In the late 1960’s my Mom, dressed as Mrs. S.C, would go to the homes of her friends, the Ladies in her Womens’ Club, and hand out parent provided gifts. It was very exciting for me because I was allowed to go a few times. My SIS would drive and I would sit in the back seat in charge of the gifts. As time went on I was able to drive her around town, and eventually we took my kids for the excitement also.
At first , she had a simple red cape and a Santa hat, but as years went by her costume got fancier and fancier. The current suit is a red corduroy cape trimmed with fluffy white fleece. Her floor length skirt was trimmed with fleece all around the bottom, with her little black boots sticking out. White gloves and a perfect Santa hat on her head rounded out the look.
She loved children. She had five of her own, and was a school librarian at the local School District. She appeared at village functions, my kid’s preschool, and random houses of the children who saw her a child. They had their own children and they wanted their kids to see Mrs. Santa Claus.
My Mother changed into another person when she put on the costume. Her cheeks got rosy, she walked differently and she seemed to stand taller than her five feet. Her smile was huge, her eyes twinkled and when she put on her hat….she was the real Mrs. Santa Claus. Her jingle bells announced her arrival to all that were waiting for her. She just loved doing it.
When I first became sick in 2001, I missed a lot of things including the fun of Christmas, but I dragged myself downstairs one particular Christmas Day because of my family’s pleas. Everybody opened all their gifts and oohed and ahhed. Finally, I was given a big box and told to open it. I tore off the paper and pulled all the tissue paper out of the box. Inside was something I had been asking for years.
A professional portrait of Mrs. Santa Claus
We lost our Mrs. Santa in October 2010. While clearing out her condo, we found the Mrs. Santa suit. My SIS and I just sat there holding it. It is packed away in a special box now.
This suit will become a family heirloom.
Smile Mrs Santa, I will be listening for your bells on Christmas Day.
Mo is blogging...I think 