I
could write a lot about my
mother and use all sorts of
sentimental accolades and
really not be that far off in describing her. But writing such as
that becomes generic and leaves out my mother's individuality. Of
her past she has told us of being born in Minneapolis and then
moving the California. She grew up Catholic. Had
wonderful remembrances of her two brothers, Jim and Bob, and plenty of
love and respect for her mother, Charlotte, and her
father, James. Charlotte in many ways ran the
household because James was stricken with arthritis at a early
age and was only able to work on and off. But it was seeing and living that struggle which
made my mother what she is: a woman who cares very deeply for her
family, her friends and her religion. No one can take the Catholic Church away of my mother
and have her remain my mother. My mother realizes that the Church
has faults, but it is not the faults that bring a purpose and
satisfaction to her life. The Church allows my mother to protect and guide all of her family. When any of us are in trouble, we all
know that our mother's prayers will be heard and that trouble
will be short lived.That strong belief in God, Mary and the Saints was not the only thing my mother tried to pass on to her children and bring them strength, purpose, and guidance. She also had stories to help us see that life was not meant to be a burden but to be a joy. The stories she told of Aunt Nellie, my grandfather's sister, are by far the best. Aunt Nellie who I only saw in pictures is as real as any relative I ever met. She was an Irish lady through and through. Nothing was to be taken seriously except laughter in life. We learned that there was more to life that appearances. Nellie was not the neatest of housekeepers and living in only a small apartment there was little space to hang up and dry her laundry. So she, like most people of the day, hung up her laundry around the apartment. One day when she had just hung up her bras and girdles and the like, she was told that the priest was coming to visit in a few hours and that she should clean up her unmentionables before the holy man arrived. "What for? Might give the man a little excitement in his life." That was Aunt Nellie. Always thinking about other people.
My mother told those stories to us and lived them too. As children growing up, we always knew what our mother thought of the world around her. Oh, there was plenty that was wrong with it, but there was no one right way to solve it all. She never spoke unkindly of another race or religion or even the Republicans, demons that they could be at times. We were all looking for answers and with enough prayer and reflection we could find those answers for ourselves.
