While today is the birthday of Kurt Vonnegut, I am more familiar with someone else who celebrates a birthday today, my mother.
My mother was born on November 11, 1925 on a humble farm in Alabama. They raised their own crops, had a few mean goats, some cows for milking, and chickens. My mother's job was to feed the chickens, so they got to know her as their food source. She was mortified to discovered that merely by walking out the door and stepping off the porch, the chickens would come running, cackling behind her, scratching in the dirt, and expecting grain. When she would take my sisters and me shopping, we liked to walk in single file behind her as a reminder of those chicken-feeding days, but she didn't seem to see the humor in our demonstration.
During the 1930s, when life was difficult to sustain, men out of work would stop by the farm and offer to do chores for food. The family didn't have much to spare, but my grandmother would give them wood to chop or a fence to repair in exchange for at least some biscuits and gravy. According to my mother, no one in need was ever turned away.
In the 40s, when my uncles went off to war, my grandfather became very protective of his daughters. My mother passed a typing test given by the government and was offered a job as a secretary in Washington. She begged to be allowed to go and to get off of the farm, but according to my grandfather, if his sons were going to be overseas fighting the enemy, at least his daughters were going to stay close to home. My mother never went to Washington and missed an opportunity she still contemplates.
After the war, my mother married my father, and during a period of twelve years or so, they moved twenty-tree times, just trying to get work and sustain a family. Through decades of financial hardship and learning to live within minimal means at times, my mother developed some amazing financial management skills. She saw that we never went hungry, never went with dirty clothes, never went to bed in fear of being in want.
In January, we will be taking her on a cruise to the western Caribbean, something I think she never dreamed she would experience. There will be no chickens on the ship, but I'm thinking about telling my girls to walk single file behind her. I think she'll like that. What do you think?
Happy birthday, Mama.
My mother was born on November 11, 1925 on a humble farm in Alabama. They raised their own crops, had a few mean goats, some cows for milking, and chickens. My mother's job was to feed the chickens, so they got to know her as their food source. She was mortified to discovered that merely by walking out the door and stepping off the porch, the chickens would come running, cackling behind her, scratching in the dirt, and expecting grain. When she would take my sisters and me shopping, we liked to walk in single file behind her as a reminder of those chicken-feeding days, but she didn't seem to see the humor in our demonstration.
During the 1930s, when life was difficult to sustain, men out of work would stop by the farm and offer to do chores for food. The family didn't have much to spare, but my grandmother would give them wood to chop or a fence to repair in exchange for at least some biscuits and gravy. According to my mother, no one in need was ever turned away.
In the 40s, when my uncles went off to war, my grandfather became very protective of his daughters. My mother passed a typing test given by the government and was offered a job as a secretary in Washington. She begged to be allowed to go and to get off of the farm, but according to my grandfather, if his sons were going to be overseas fighting the enemy, at least his daughters were going to stay close to home. My mother never went to Washington and missed an opportunity she still contemplates.
After the war, my mother married my father, and during a period of twelve years or so, they moved twenty-tree times, just trying to get work and sustain a family. Through decades of financial hardship and learning to live within minimal means at times, my mother developed some amazing financial management skills. She saw that we never went hungry, never went with dirty clothes, never went to bed in fear of being in want.
In January, we will be taking her on a cruise to the western Caribbean, something I think she never dreamed she would experience. There will be no chickens on the ship, but I'm thinking about telling my girls to walk single file behind her. I think she'll like that. What do you think?
Happy birthday, Mama.
Comments
I love the single file walking thing, though if you and the girls do that to her on the cruise I think she will be totally justified in throwing you overboard.
What a wonderful woman she sounds. And what an eventful life.
From "The Grapes Of Wrath", through wartime and being denied the chance to strike an early blow for women's rights to work, to raising a bunch of daughters that includes the loveliest person in Blogville.
Well done, Mom!
And many happy returns.
I enjoyed reading your mother's story and what a wonderful thing for you to do to take her on a cruise, and for her to experience.
Love,
Robyn's Pianist Friend :)
I hope she enjoys the trip you have planned.
thanks for sharing this wonderful story