In Memorium

Circa 1999

I think this photo was my Mom's last Christmas. We were surprised that she actually wore a silky blouse that my sister(1954) got for her. My Mom was always cold and this material is not much for warmth.

She would have been 89 today. Her last birthday she turned 80. It was a wonderful day. We put a sign up out in front of her house telling the cars to honk to wish her a happy 80th. Oh, she didn't like that one bit. It never occurred to me that she would be offended. She left it out there, but I kind of felt like maybe she was upset. We just got a kick out of all the horn beeping, though.

I cannot look at a 3 axle truck without shivering. My sister (1956) was driving. She was not a seat belt advocate like the rest of us. She still becomes gripped with guilt. We do not fault her at all. Heck, one time I caught my Mom holding her seat belt in my car instead of clicking it locked. I guess she was having trouble getting it to snap so she just decided to hold it. I caught her and made her fasten it. She was like a little kid sometimes.

A coal truck bounced through a stop sign. My sister (1956) laid rubber trying to stop. We really thought my Mom would be okay because she was talking and joking with the EMT's at the accident. "Ruth, how do you feel?" "With my fingers!" my Mom quipped. Does that sound like she would be dead in 28 hours? Blunt trauma to the head.

A 30 minute ambulance ride to the nearest hospital. A 20 minute wait in the life flight on top of the hospital. (I would guess they were waiting for a paramedic). A 20 minute ride to Pittsburgh in the helicopter.

It was a two hour drive for me. All of us got to talk to her except for sister (1954) who was (as usual) in prison. My Mom was not happy. She did not like doctors or hospitals. She only went to the hospital to have a baby. I was her last baby and I was 40 years old. She went in the hospital for a week once in 1972 for dehydration. That was it. She wanted nothing to do with doctors. They wanted her to quit smoking and she just snapped at them that she would rather die than quit smoking. They just shook their heads. She would go for eye cataracts and stuff, but that didn't really count. She took only aspirin for medication.

They would give her morphine for the pain. Her heart would begin to stop beating. They would give her medicine to bring her out of the morphine, then she was in pain. It was a long cycle. Round and round they went until her poor old heart gave up in the middle of the night so they put her on life support. I realized later what they were doing. They were keeping her alive for 24 hours. Any time a victim of an accident lives for longer than 24 hours they have to do an autopsy and an investigation.

She burned coal in her fireplace. She rolled her own cigarettes with bugler tobacco. She was born in a log cabin. She had all her teeth pulled sometime in her 30's. She only wore her false teeth on vacation. Her gums hardened enough to even let her eat peanuts.

She bore 8 children. Her husband became an alcoholic and did not work steady after 1950. She refused to go on welfare. She came close to losing her children many times. She moved many times.

She was raised by her maternal grandparents. Her Mother did not marry the father. When my Mom was 8 her mother married and she was told to call her Mother "Mary." That wasn't even her name. My grandmother's new father-in-law didn't think Lydia was a proper name for a woman so she was to be called Mary. WTF?

Her Mother died when she was 10 giving birth to her half brother. He is still living and resides in Florida. Her father did not know her but tried to kiss her in a car one time. She really got her revenge when she told him "Sure you can kiss me, since I am your daughter." What a riot that must have been. She said he just beat his fists on the steering wheel calling her mother's name over and over again.

What a life. And that ain't even the half of it. This is definitely a book worth writing. I must be careful, though. With 8 children, some are still sensitive about it all. They are talking more about it as the years go by. Sister (1944) just recently told me the story about how she and brother (1942) had to beat our father in the head with a high heel shoe so he would stop beating our Mom. I wasn't even born yet. My father used to tell sister (1944) that he would beat their Mom more when my she tried to go to the neighbor's house for help or to call the police.

They never had a telephone until 1966 because he would get drunk and call relatives in West Virginia and run the phone bill up. I got to see the least because by the time I came along the older siblings were able to stop our dad.

My Mom used to go to the bars with my dad. She left the younger children in the care of sister (1944). She said if she didn't go with our dad he would spend all his money. He always was buying drinks for everybody. At least with my Mom there, she could stop him or the bartender would not do it if he saw my Mom and her look. The other patrons wouldn't accept the drinks either, if my Mom was there to give them a look.

I really have to stop, now.