Chapter 2: Mommy

In 1917, my mother was born in a small town in Kentucky. Her ambitions were like most young girls of that era, get married, have children and raise a family. In time she met a man that would be her only love. Even though times got rough only death would separate them. I remember my father most for his abuse of alcohol. I watched as my father would call my mother names and slap her around when he was drunk. When he wasn't drinking he was a good man. Liquor changed him and he paid a high price for it. The memories of alcohol remained with me longer than the memories of happiness. Sometimes in the darkness I still feel the fear and violence, but this is not a book about my father. My mother accepted the way he was. I sometimes wonder why she didn't leave him, but I realize now she put up with with this abuse because of us. Back then she could have never made it on her own.

My mother raised three boys in a world where men were supposed to be men and women were supposed to be women. She helped instill in me a respect and reverence for life that I would use in raising my own children. She always sang. I would sit and listen to her sing as she worked. Mom had a good voice. When she was younger, she had the opportunity to sing professionally, but instead she decided to spend the time with her family. My mother was always laughing. She looked young for her age. When my older brother was in high school, mom was often mistaken for his sisiter. During spring vacation we never had a dull moment in our house. Mom would become one of the boys. I still have the photographs in my mind.

There are the memories of picking blackberries across from the house. Mom always wore a wide brimmed hat, and I would fight the briers. I would get tangled up in them sometimes and mom would have to get me out. There are the memories of canning food. I would eat the raw peas and mom would let me do this even though she knew she would be up most of the night taking care of me with an upset stomach. There are the memories of long nights when the wind would blow, the thunder would roar and we would be tucked away in our beds with mom's soothing voice telling us there was nothing to dread. There are the memories of her picking up the glass and mess after father's drunken rage. There are the memories of my cousins that used to visit us for the summer and the fun they had with mom, but most of all I remember how she used to smile and sing as she worked around the house. Her up beat attitude even when the money was not there, and her ability to make me laugh even when I got older are what I remember.

My mother taught me not to fight that bullies were bullies because they were afraid. She would always say you win when you walk away. She taught me right from wrong, to be respectful of other's feelings and to always find some good in everyone. I remember when I was ten years old and we were visiting my aunt in Kentucky. On our way, we stopped at a store. while mom was shopping I happened to notice a piece of candy lying on the floor. I picked it up and put it in my pocket, even though I knew this was stealing. When we got to my aunt's house I sneaked around back, unwrapped the candy and was about to take a bite when I remembered what my mom had told me. You might feel that you are getting away with something but God is always watching. I started crying and told my mother what I had done that I had stolen the candy. On the way home we stopped by the store. I had to take the candy back and apologize to the owner for stealing it.
This was a lesson I never forgot.

Until my dad died in 1981 my mother had never made any decisions on her own. She had been completely dependent on my father, and when he died it not only broke her heart, but also her spirit. For anyone who has not lost someone close, it would be impossible, but on that day something else died in my mother. Something she would never get back.

As long as I can remember my mother was always healthy. In her 70's she could out walk me. She loved the woods. We would go to the woods and dig genseng roots. After two hours, I was ready to go home, but she would still be going strong. I often wondered where she got all her energy.
My mother had one great fear in her life. She worried she would get the same disease as her mother. My grandmother was admitted to a mental institution in the early 1950's. She had "lost her mind" as they said back then. I would hear my parents talking in whispers, and sometimes when dad was drinking the word "crazy" came up. When my grandmother stayed with us, mom always kept a close eye on her because often she would become violent. Most of my earliest memories of my grandmother was watching as she walked back and forth through the house. Back then the word Alzheimer's wasn't used, but that's what she had.

How was I to know this woman who influenced my life so much when I was young would be dependent on me when she was older. It was unimaginable. Even when she took care of her mother, I was too young to understand why. Sometimes I still wish I had that innocence of not knowing.