Sun 11 May, 2014 10:56 am
My Mom was a very special person, not because I love her, but, she just was.
Born in Oklahoma, in 1923, she lost her own mother, at age three. She recalled standing on a chair, washing dishes at that age. Her formal education consisted of attending First, Third and Fifth grades of grammar school. She read The Readers Digest, more than any other publication. She maintained that we were of Irish, Dutch and Indian extraction, but she did not know how complicated our blood lines are.
Somewhere along the way, her family turned to following the crops to earn a living, and that way of life brought them to Texas. They tried to migrate to California, but were turned back by authorities, because they did not have jobs or money. She said she liked picking cotton, but what she really loved was strawberry season.
She eloped with a young cotton picker and their union produced three boys. The marriage could not last. She left him and she took her boys with her to California, traveling with her father and step mother. There, she waited tables, until she met my step father.
She was as happy and proud as anybody I have ever seen, until he turned to drink and quickly became abusive. He managed to intimidate her for several years. - Each year, she had a new child, in the charity ward, and each time she requested surgery to prevent more pregnancies. In the end, she was mother of twelve.
She finally made him leave and she moved us to Texas. She spent the rest of her days, living quietly and loving her children. A heavy smoker, she died from emphysema.