Emma
Today will be about my mother as this would have been her birthday.
She was born in a very small town in the hard coal (anthracite) mining region of eastern Pa. Her father was pure Irish and her mother pure German. They met at a dance; he was 10 years older and quite an accomplished dancer from all I’ve heard. My grandfather died before I was born and my grandmother when I was 10 months. My mother’s actual name was Agusta Emma but she always went by Emma, hating Agusta. (One of my aunts spilled this name info to me as a teen-ager and I tormented her ruthlessly by calling her “Gussie”. ) There were 8 children—one older brother died at 10 after being pushed down the schoolhouse steps (same place I went to elementary school) and a 2 yr. old younger sister died of scarlet fever. An orphaned female cousin, five yrs. older than mom was also raised in the household. (She’s still living (the only one) and well into her 90’s!) My mother was in the middle of the siblings with an older brother and 2 older sisters. Money was not plentiful, her father working in the mines and drinking up his pay. The mother apparently “ruled the roost” with an iron hand. The kids had to gather the good coal from the slag piles and do such things as pick huckleberries (wild and very small blueberries) which were then sold for .10 cents a quart. My mother was the first to manage to graduate from high school. I understand she enjoyed playing basketball in high school, hard as I find that to believe. She wanted to train to become a nurse at the local hospital but it cost $75.00 and her uncle (who lived with the family—her mothers brother) would not loan her the money. So she went to work sewing in a shirt factory at first then had various secretarial jobs. At one of these she met my dad and they married and lived with her mother who was by now alone, a widow and ill, needing care. She had difficulty becoming pregnant so it was quite a few years before I arrived. She was, for the most part, a stay at home mom with occ. short lived jobs—-seasonal retail and once worked for a year or so in a flower shop. She also cleaned for a neighbor for a short period. Money was not abundant when I grew up. To put it bluntly—we were extremely poor and would have probably been homeless if not for living in the family home, something I didn’t realize until many, many years later. I was in junior high before we had a phone or an indoor bathroom (can you say outhouse?) I never realized how truly poor we were for the longest time. When it came to stretching money, she was an absolute miracle worker. It was a point of pride that we never took welfare or any of the free government food. Maybe it was the constant worry about making ends meet that made her seem so unloving; all business, maybe it was the German—I don’t know, just that it seems so cold looking back. She was in her late 50’s before she learned to drive and continued to do so long after it was a good idea for her to be on the road. My dad died when she was about 77. The next year my daughter was born, much to her delight. I swear she finally had the outlet for the love she couldn’t manage to show me, which is a good thing. My daughter will remember all the hugs and kisses and good stuff. I brought her down here to live with me when she was 86 after surgery to clear a blockage in her carotid. I moved her down in April but looking at her checkbook there was a definate change in the quality of her writing 4 months earlier and I believe she had something neurological occur at that time. She lived 4 more years in a gentle kind of dementia, confused with patches of lucidness and died right here in this room, about 4 feet from where I’m sitting. Her death, in large part, was the caused by what passes for medical care these days…..but that’s another blog.
Will add food and maybe edit some later, I’m spent for now. This was emotionally exhausting to write; there’s so much that will never be resolved or understood. Rest in peace, mom—love you.
Food: bfsk: 2 egg omlet w/ Swiss cheese and salsa, V8, f.f. vanilla yogurt w/ strawberries and blueberries, decaf. tea w/skim…….late lunch: tomato soup, mixed greens salad w/ tomatoes and olives and balsamic vinegar dressing., 4 slices deli turkey…………snacks: peanuts, pistachios, last 3 Dove candies
G’nite, chickadees.
January 22nd, 2008 at 7:20 am
My mom’s birthday will be on Feb 5th. I lost her 2 years ago. I still miss her every day. How nice to dedicate your blog to your mom on her day.
January 22nd, 2008 at 9:49 am
It has often struck me - especially in recent years for some reason - that we know so very little about our parents; who they were, I mean, aside from being our parents - what motivat(ed) them to behave as they did towards us, and how they may have seemed to others - how they may have seemed to themselves, what is “real” about what we remember of them, and what is perhaps colored by the immature perceptions of childhood. I know that your relationship with your mother was a difficult one, as was mine with my mother. That you kept your mom with you in her latter years and cared for her as you did reflects the inherent lovingness of who YOU are…and, that being the case, perhaps her love for you was demonstrated in ways you didn’t comprehend, because she certainly raised up a very loving and caring daughter, didn’t she? Methinks she would be very proud, Soclose.
January 22nd, 2008 at 10:23 am
It’s funny, like ella, and maybe like you, too, it’s one of my major themes - thinking about my parents and their parents and their lives, wondering about the same things; why they did what they did and how their decisions and even the decisions of their grandparents affected their lives, and ultimately ours. My own mom - and sadly, also my dad, grew up in an incredibly poor family too; same type of mother - my Ouma, “Ma” - iron fisted control. They also collected coal from the bottom of the bins and from the side of the railroad tracks. It’s so good that your mom was with you at the end of her life. Hopefully some of your memories will bring you comfort…Love RubyJean
January 22nd, 2008 at 11:31 am
I loved reading this. There are so many parts of our lives and our families that could be made into books because despite us all being normal people, our lives are interesting and different in so many ways. Your mom sounds like she was a complex woman. I am sorry to hear that she died to due to some fault in the medical system. I hope you can wrap yourself in the good memories today.
January 22nd, 2008 at 7:52 pm
This was a wonderful entry. I’m sorry for your loss, it sounds like your mom was a wonderful woman who tried very, very hard to keep you all from living homeless. And she seemed like she really wanted you all to have good futures. I’m sure she’s very proud of you.
January 22nd, 2008 at 9:54 pm
It always amazes me how strong women of our mother’s (and older) generations were. Of course divorce was out of the question if your husband drank or even beat you (not implying that your grandfather did that!). Women could rarely work and if they did (aside from the social stigma) there were very few decent paying jobs available (not to mention the sexual harassment they often endured to keep them!).
We so often take for granted the rights we now have thanks to the work of many of our mothers.
A salute to all of our Moms!
January 23rd, 2008 at 1:07 am
Beautiful story — your mother must have been so proud of you. It makes me realize how blessed I am to have such an amazing relationship with my mother these days.
January 23rd, 2008 at 2:50 am
It is a wonderful entry. I am so proud to have known your mom (hoever little) through you. I agree with Ms. Ella, she had brought up a very loving, caring, sensitive, fun and wonderful person.
Our parents, specially mothers, aunts, grandmothers went through so much and that is why we have so many choices nowadays. They truly deserve a lot of respect.
I think the relationship between a mother and her daughter is always complex. I am the only daughter and my mom had many many unfulfilled dreams and had always looked down (my perception) on being a woman. So we always had a turbulent relationship and it still continues. But we do love each other lots, in our own messy ways but lots nonetheless. My mom was so much less strict with my brother but I think now that was because she was so much more afraid for me. This reminds me that I know far less about my dad. I should some day sit down and think about my memories of him and try to figure him out more.
You made me thinking.
I now feeling lot less blah, suddenly remembering the heritage and love that I carry in my daily life and choices. So many women gave so much to get me here and how can I feel less about something so precious.
Lots of love,
iniya
January 23rd, 2008 at 4:51 pm
Thank you so much for sharing the story of your mother. It’s so nice to see someone’s life in a snapshot and it makes both of you seem so much more real.
Hugs to you
January 24th, 2008 at 12:46 am
Thanks for sharing
It reminds me again of how precious my Mother is and how much I will miss her when she goes to the happy mountain.
Gonna go call her now!
xo