My mom’s birthday is today. She would be 100 years old. That’s tough for me to wrap my head around.
She grew up in the depression years, and during the war. She married, not particularly successfully, but made the best of it, since that’s what women did then. She raised four kids mostly on her own, though she had an army of other women to help her: my grandmother, her sisters, and many neighbors and friends. Other than the few years when my siblings and I were babies, she worked as a teacher.
Though she lived in very conservative times, and in a conservative small farm town, her world-view was not one of restriction. She was funny, generous, and interested in the world around her. She graduated from “normal” school as a teacher at age 18, but then went back to college when I was in my early teens, and graduated with a Bachelor’s degree. I remember one of those years when she was studying John Donne in her spare time, whilst running a small farm household and trying to keep all of us clothed and fed.
She taught me that I can do almost anything I set my mind to, she never doubted that I could go to college, then medical school. She was a teacher her entire life, and instilled in me a love of reading and learning that I will be forever grateful for.
Happy heavenly birthday, momma. I think of you every day.