Silent Celebration

The young woman in the photo looks askance. I wonder what drew her eyes to the side. Was it her gentleman friend? Did she not anticipate the shutter clicking? Was she being coy? Many questions creep across my brain but I'll have no answers. She's beyond my reach and communication cannot occur.

My guess is that she was nearly thirty when she posed so demurely. Hands folded carefully in her lap, she's wearing what appears to be a jacket with a bit of decoration. I'm assuming she has on a skirt in keeping with the expectations of the decade. I wonder about the color. Given her preferences later in life, I'd almost bet that she chose some shade of blue, or possibly pink.

Her lips are fully painted, dark red no doubt. The nearly black hair is thick and curled. It's swept to one side and high off her forehead. Not a single wrinkle mars her clear skin. I know her eyes were deep brown. I look out from that same hue every day of my life.

I found this small snapshot a few months ago. It was safely tucked inside a very old envelope, hidden away in a closet that used to be hers. In the same envelope were French Francs dating from the Vichy government days of World War II. The paper money's existence is easy to explain. Her husband was in a hospital in Paris for several months in 1945. Did he have this charming photo with him as he recuperated? I'd like to think that is the story.



Tomorrow is her birthday. My mother will be 98. In the decade since her passing, my life, and that of my immediate family members, has changed significantly. A wonderful wedding brought us a beloved son-in-law. Visitors to our home have enriched us greatly. We've renovated so much of our house that she'd hardly recognize it any longer. Travel has kept us in touch with dear family and friends while close to home, new special people have joined our immediate circle.

Mother grew up in a financially burdened family with five sisters and six brothers. She enjoyed no luxuries and witnessed firsthand the struggle to provide life's basic necessities . As a farming family living on someone else's land, all her siblings understood that only hard work and personal sacrifice would ensure survival.

She never learned to ride a bike or to swim. Her comfort zone was very narrow and included family, special friends, and the South. Deeply devoted to her religious faith, Mother read the Bible every single day. When she reached the last chapter in Revelations, she began again at Genesis. Though I do not share her beliefs, I've retained her Bible and its tissue-thin pages. It is part of her legacy and I honor it.

In the eighth grade, she became seriously ill with a burst appendix. Immediate medical attention saved her life but a medical mishap during the hospital stay prolonged her recovery. When her health was fully restored, she decided that since she'd missed so much school and would have to repeat the grade, quitting was a good option. Thus, Mother's formal education ceased.

Despite her truncated schooling, Mother loved to read. While she did not select classics, she loved a story. Paperbacks filled her days with adventures, lots of romance, and dashing and beautiful characters. Maybe my penchant for books has as its core my mother's example.

In going through stacks of very old photographs, I've found many taken in the 1930's and 1940's. Without exception, I glimpse a fashionable young woman whose grooming is immaculate and whose smile is winsome. Often she's surrounded by contemporaries and somehow she always seems to be the center of any grouping. I believe that particular trait has been inherited by her super social granddaughter.

Mother had very strong opinions about many topics. For example, she believed that women should not work outside the home. Never mind the fact that she spent years working alongside my daddy in their laundry and dry cleaners. I guess what she meant was that women should not have careers. Mother was adamant that women should not vote and did not need to do so. It is a bit difficult to reconcile this notion with the fact that she nearly always voted in whatever election was being held. Curious. I suppose contradictions are a woman's prerogative.

If you asked my mother whether she was a strong, self-confident person, I believe she would have answered in the negative. In some ways, she would have been absolutely correct. However, this is a person who lost her youngest child when he was only thirty. The searing pain of that separation informed her being for the rest of her days. Two years after she suffered the horror that every mother dreads, my daddy died. She was alone, bereft, her life over and yet continuing.

At the age of 68, she exhibited bravery and separated herself from the South to move to Southern California. Giving up her home and most of her possessions, saying good-bye to family and friends, relinquishing the familiar accents that marked her days, she came to live with us. She didn't ever say much about this decision. I know she had become frightened living in the farmhouse by herself. I was her only surviving child and the impending arrival of a grandchild helped smooth the transition.

For the next twenty-two years, this was her house, too. Three generations living under one roof. Yes, my dear husband is a saint and his willingness to share our everyday lives with his mother-in-law is one more testament to his impeccable character and devotion to me. I am truly blessed.

I never thought I was much like my mother. Education was/is a critical part of my life. Though I, too, might describe myself as timid at times, I have been known to take risks, some of which make others gasp. From my earliest memories, I knew with certainty that I would have a career. Perhaps several. I did learn to ride a bike and to swim. I have very strong opinions about social and political issues. I've traveled widely and believe that my thinking has broadened as a result. We share that love for reading but I am not a religious person at all. Our eyes are the same and once our hair color was nearly identical. As I've aged, I've acquired her wrinkles. I've decided that they are charming and add character to my face. She wrote multitudes of letters and notes to her many nieces and friends. Hallmark cards flowed from this house constantly. I continue those traditions as I write to cousins and friends around the country. Writing with a pen that is, not a keyboard, although I do correspond electronically as well.

Tomorrow is a special day. I hope Mother is somewhere safe with Daddy and Brother. I'd like to believe that cake and ice cream will be served and there'll be candles lit. Even if it isn't so, I'm comforted just imagining the scene. I'll stage my own silent celebration.

Happy Birthday Mother!!!