My Mother's Story (part 2)

My mother’s birthday will be April 14th, and this year she would have been 90. She died 3 years ago this year on April 15th, at 87.

(This is the 2nd part of my story of my mother. )

After a ten-year gap, two more offspring arrived, me and Dearest Sister, much to the chagrin of Only Brother, much to the delight of the Big Girls. The two groups of children became known as ‘the big kids’ and ‘the little girls’. (To this day, Dearest Sister and I, now in our 50’s, can still be referred to, in the right crowd, as ‘the little girls’.) When I was three, and Dearest Sister was one, Momma and Daddy decided to settle down in permanent style in Holland, Michigan, taking a position with one of the big pipeline companies.

Easter before...

Within a matter of months, Daddy died suddenly of a heart attack at 43, leaving my mother at 41 with 5 children, ages 18, 16, 13, almost 4 & 2. He left no insurance, no house, no means of support. She had no education past high school to speak of. She was halfway across the country from any relatives. It was 1959, before any big social support program, when social security was still relatively new.

She had his pickup, and an income tax refund. Momma put his body on the train, and brought it back home to Kansas. Selling the pickup and with the money from it and the tax refund, she put a down payment on a house. It was not really habitable at first, but a family friend worked on insulating, installing a furnace, adding the rooms upstairs and some closets. We moved in about a year later.

...in front of our home.

Things were very tight financially, and I can only imagine what it must have been like to be such a young widow. It was not a time where being different was such a good thing, and that sort of tragedy sets one apart. She struggled with depression, and there were relatives that helped considerably with us ‘little girls’ when she couldn’t manage. Part time jobs were taken to make ends meet at the local greenhouse, teaching knitting, and sewing for others. We walked most places, not having a vehicle, but it was a small town, and totally doable. Again, relatives gave rides when necessary. Her outside activities were limited to church, getting her hair done on Saturday, helping us participate in 4-H, and making us practice our piano.

with the most helpful relatives ever...

The big kids graduated and moved out. Momma made sure that Dearest Sister and I learned what she thought was important, things like balancing checkbooks, the pros and cons of owning a car, sewing, knitting, pulling weeds, how to swim, a love of books. She taught us to like the idea of a lot of other things, but not so much how to actually do them….an organized household, cleaning our room, doing well in studies, saving for retirement, buying a home. Momma pretty much discouraged us from buying a car or a house because the expense would always be more than expected. I can hear her now…’it’s more than a a payment….there’s gas and insurance and maintenance…’! She taught us thriftiness and the necessity for accomplishment.

The ‘big girls’convinced Mom to move to KC after about 8 years after Daddy’s death. She lived in the suburbs on the Kansas side until her death, never owning her own home, but renting or sharing homes with others.

Living in Shawnee Mission (KC) helped considerably in providing outlets for her to pour out her helpfulness. And she had so much helpfulness for others, whether they wanted it or not! Momma was a force in the mother of all self help groups, PWP (Parents Without Partners). She met people there that became friends for years to come. She continued to be active in church, her faith being a lifelong support to her life. Her incredible sense of humor allowed her to dress for the yearly church Halloween parties in unforgettable style.

To complete the effect, Mother removed her dentures for the evening, renduring her totally unrecognizable.

Raising teenagers as a single parent is never easy, I imagine, and Dearest Sister and myself cut her no breaks. She passed away not knowing all the stories, believe me. Or maybe she did, and just didn’t let on. I had the opportunity to make an amend in the last years of her life for the sleepless nights I must have caused her during this period. Her response? “Are your girls causing you grief?” Yep, she probably knew more than she let on, and it was easier to hope we learned our lessons on our own. I risk Dearest Sister not ever speaking to me again...

Tomorrow, more of my mother's story.