Earthquake

Mother's remaining pieces of china. The bowl is from aunt Amy's china pattern and the lid is from mother's.

The few remaining pieces of Aunt Amy's Bavarian china.

Our recent earthquake was immediately designated a 5.6, quickly upgraded to 5.8 but finally came in at a modest 5.4. My multi-story office building in Orange Co did quite a bit of shaking, creaking and groaning but there was no damage - unless you count a few frayed nerves. I called home immediately - or rather tried to because all phones, even cell phones, were out for quite a while. I wanted to make sure DH was fine and wondered how my mother's and aunt's few surving pieces of china had fared. Mother had a service for 12 of Hertel Jacob Bavarian china and her sister had Green Leaves Bavarian china. They bought it at the same time and lost almost all of the pieces at the same time in the 6.6 Sylmar quake of 1971. Mother had enough pieces to give me a complete service for 1 and the lid to her serving bowl. Aunt Amy also gave me a complete service for 1 and her serving bowl which had lost its lid. Though the lid and bowl are no longer a match, they look okay together and that's how I use them. Every so often DH and I use the dishes and they mean so much to me because of all the family history associated with them.

The networks covered our minor quake extensively and I remember one woman saying everything shook for five (5!) minutes - nope, more like 30 seconds which actually is quite a long time earthquake-wise. Have you ever experienced earthquakes, tornadoes, hurricanes?

I should add that we were living in Washington state at the time of the '71 quake. My sister, who didn't live too far from our parents, said everything in her kitchen fell out of the cupboards. One of the few items not broken was a gift bottle of alcohol and though she didn't drink, that day she said she did.

Flashback.....

While at Starbucks and looking at the CD display, I saw a compilation CD of old songs and recognized one by Rosemary Clooney - Come On-A My House. It was playing on the radio during one of our yearly trips back to Minnesota and caused quite an arguement between mother and dad. Mother was singing along with the radio and dad was quite upset about her singing that "hussy" song. I didn't know then what a hussy was but figured it probably wasn't too bad because mother kept singing.

We kids enjoyed the trips but they were hard on our parents - four (eventually five) kids in the back seat, squirming all over the place and asking every hour or so, "aren't we there yet?" We four (eventually five) had our space staked out and it was war if someone got too close or, heaven forbid, touched us. Being susceptible to car sickness I was often allowed to sit in the front. It didn't take me long to know how to use that - a feeble, "I don't feel so well" got me moved up quickly to the front. Mother frantically told dad to pull over and stop because she thought I might urp in the car - can you imagine traveling 2k miles in a car that's been urped in? No, and neither could she.

One man's trash, another man's treasure?

When my mother gave me this picture of myself taken when I was three, my aunt told her to, "throw away that ugly frame, just give her the picture." But mother said she liked the frame and ignored her sister. Some months later my aunt gave me a lovely silver frame and told me to put this picture in it and throw away "that tacky thing." Obviously I listen and take suggestions as well as my mother did. ;-)

The frame doesn't "go" with anything but I couldn't bear to throw it away. I was three when the picture was taken and figure the frame is about my age. No sense in getting rid of things just because they're old, right? I do wonder where mother bought the frame though.

Mothers & Daughters

Our local paper is asking readers to finish this sentence: “I knew I became my mother when............”

When my mother passed away, one of the first things my aunt said to me was, "You know what this means, right?" I nodded. Just to make sure I understood what she was intimating, she said, "You’ve moved up a notch." Yes, I knew that but what I mostly knew was that I’d lost my best friend.

It was many years before that when I wondered if I had become my mother. It happened when I had finished getting ready for work and was about to walk out the door. Taking a quick look in the mirror, it was my mother’s face looking back at me. I froze and stared at the image – in the navy suit I was wearing I looked just like she had some years ago in her navy suit. I’ve never had that experience since but every so often DH will say, "Wow, right now you look just like your mother." It must be a certain look or manner that I’ve unconsciously adopted because our temperaments and personalities were very different.

I’ve often heard women friends sort of groan and complain or laugh when/if they think they’ve become like their mother but I’ve never heard men say or worry that they’ve become like their dad. Wonder why.

So, did you ever say or think: "I knew I became my mother when............"

Remembering

My mother at 18. Can you imagine an 18-year old wearing a bow in her hair today?

We spent yesterday evening with some very good friends. He had had cataract surgery earlier in the day and wanted the company. Jack was very comfortable and his wife said the surgery only took about ten minutes. Actually, the only sign of surgery was the eye patch that both said was going to be removed this afternoon.

My dad had the same surgery some years ago but recovery took a bit longer for him. He had no complications but was very frustrated at not being able to play golf for a while. During his retirement he discovered golf and was very good at it – even getting a hole-in-one more than once. Something I still haven’t done!

Mother had also needed cataract surgery but kept putting it off until it was too late. When she became bed-ridden during the last months of her life, she said she regretted not having had the operation; her sight was so bad that reading was difficult and her only diversions were watching TV or having visitors. She loved company and people enjoyed hers. After she passed away I had many of her medical records and on one her doctor had written what a gracious and pleasant lady she was. She was.

Though in many ways my mother and I are alike in one respect we are extreme opposites; she loved having people do things for her and was very good at letting them think it was their idea. She never taught me that art – I try to do everything by myself and only ask for help as a last resort. DH thinks I'm stubborn but I think it's more a matter of use-it-or-lose-it.

1942

Mother
May 27, 1942

19 years old

She is at a train station but I'm not sure where. The ticket counter can be seen through the front door.

The lower right corner which would show her married name has been torn off. My sister and I found many pictures like that which made us wonder if she had been married before and if our dad was our "real" dad. It wasn't until many years later that she finally told us the truth. It didn't matter to my sister and I - dad was dad. It did matter to our younger brother though and he looked up our birthdad before he went to Viet Nam.

The back of the picture says Peoples Drug Stores which was eventually acquired by CVS.

Mother and Dearie

Mother and DadBig smiles, both look so happy. Would this have been the year Mother gifted herself with a mink stole? She wanted one, he said no, she bought one, wrapped it up, opened it Christmas Eve and let everyone think it was from him. He didn't say a word otherwise.

They met when she was divorced, had three children and was supporting her family by working for the telephone company while living with her sister (Amy) and her family. When Mother met dad, she laughingly told Amy, "He's short, bald and I'm going to marry him." Before she accepted his proposal she made him promise we three kids could continue going to parochial school. He kept his word even when things were tough financially.

I didn't hear that story until after both Mother and dad had passed away and it helped me better understand their relationship. They were so different. She was very open-minded and he was the opposite. Their arguments were intense. She could and would go toe-to-toe and nose-to-nose with him. But he was a good provider and her choice. I recently read letters she had written to him when they were newly married. He worked out of town and came home on weekends and it looks like she wrote him nearly every day. In the letters she calls him "dearie." Dearie. I'm discovering something new every day!

Re Mother's comment about dad being "short, bald": according to her sister, because their brothers were tall the sisters all preferred short men. Only one sister (the tallest) out of five married a tall man. And dad wasn't bald but he did have a lot of forehead. ;-)

Beginnings

It was so hot the day this was taken. Sandra is 2 mos here.I look at this and think of how young she was - and not just in years. She was the youngest girl in a family of nine. Her mother died when she was just a toddler and though the older children in the family "mothered" her, she always missed not having a mother. She was closest to the sister just a couple of years older than she was - Amy, who is the only sibling still alive.

Once when funds were scarce, Mother walked into a store that was selling chicken for 10 cents a pound and asked for 10 cents worth. They told her it wasn't sold that way and she was so embarrassed that she remembered it forever.

I love the scuffed saddle shoes and socks. I'm guessing my birth dad is the one taking the picture.

More History

This is a picture of our Mother and birth dad taken in Washington, D.C. - pen pals who met in Delaware where she was working. They moved to Florida where he was stationed and that is where my sister and I were born. I don't remember much about him as they divorced when I was very young. When our brother was scheduled to go to Viet Nam, he wanted to find him and eventually did. My sister and I were never curious enough to meet him and he never pushed the issue. My brother established a relationship with him of sorts and let us know when he passed away.

I didn't see a picture of my birth dad until after Dad passed away. It was very strange to look at a picture of a stranger and try to see if we looked like him. Mother was always very secretive about the fact that she had been divorced - in fact, it was my sister and I who sort of remembered Dad coming on the scene and learning how to spell a new last name. We put two and two together and finally asked her about it when we were in our teens. At first she denied it but eventually told us the truth.