My mom was born on a farm in West Virginia during The Depression. She was fifth of seven children.
Although, she was forced to drop out of nursing school when she was young because of her own health problems, but she was always a caregiver. She moved back with her parents on their farm to take care of her father after he had strokes that left him with paralysis. She worked in doctors’ offices. She worked as a home health aid. She wanted to take care of everyone.
She talked of wanting to have a large house so she everyone could live there and she could take care of them. My daughter talks of the exact same thing.
She loved children. They loved her. She was a Girl Scout leader for more than 20 years (my troops and then my sister’s). She was a homeroom parent and a school volunteer. She was a babysitter. Even after my dad retired, she babysat for her friend’s grandchildren while their mother taught school. The kids loved them and they loved the kids.
In fact, she had the nickname “Pied Piper” at church because of how the children would flock to her when she entered the door.
She gave birth to her second child at the age of 44. While she was pregnant, she was told by an OB that no one over the age of 30 should have a baby. It seemed to be the mentality of the mid-1970’s.
She had a very odd sense of humor – if you want to call it that – to be such a kind, caring person. If she found something that really bothered you, she would say it again or tease you about it. That was funny to her.
She was terrified of snakes and mice. When I was in grade school, I placed a rubber snake in the middle of our kitchen floor for her to see as she walked in the back door. Um, she did not think it was funny.
Happy Birthday Mom. I miss you.
