I was my mother's baby and that is what she called me sometimes, "baby". She passed away in 1995, so for the last 19 years her "baby" has had to whisper Happy Mother's Day to her. Of course it doesn't matter if I whisper it or yell it, she hears it. My father joined her on the other side in 2002.
My mother was born in the Great Thicket of east Texas. I'm not real sure of the town, but my best guess would put it somewhere in the Jasper/Buna/Evadale area. As I was growing up, my mother would just tell everyone she was "from the thicket and they were so poor they didn't have a pot to pee in or window to throw it out". But one of the things she was most proud of was her perfect attendance in school. I don't remember the length of time but it was several years in a row. Education was important to her. She had two sisters, the oldest was Mildred, the middle was Dorthy (Aunt Dot) and my mother was the youngest, the baby. Her name was Susy, but her family called her Baby Ray, with Ray being her middle name. My father called her Sue, except when he would be teasing her about something then he would call her Susy. It seems strange to me now that she not only changed her last name when she married my father, but she also changed her first name. They both changed a lot after they married. That day was a changing point for both of them. Their paths joined and they began to carve out a future. My mother was the last sister to pass away. I remember her saying, as the time got short, that she would be joining them soon.
My mother and father met when my mother was 17 and my father was 20. The story as I remember it went something like this. The meeting was in a city, perhaps Beaumont. My mother was with her cousin Johnnie (female) and her boyfriend and they had come into the big city to see a picture show (movie). As they were walking down the street, my father was sitting on the hood of his car. As they passed by, he said "It doesn't seem fair, one guy with two girls." I'm not sure what happened next except it wasn't long before they were married. That marriage would have been in 1944. Together they raised three children. The oldest joined them several years ago.
My mother worked briefly as a telephone operator but once the kids started coming she stayed home to raise us. It was a time when there would be breakfast and supper every day no matter how tight the money. She was a great cook and I don't think she got enough praise or credit for that part. My father always had a warm meal waiting for him no matter how late he got home from work. I sure wish I could taste her Chicken Pot Pie, Roast Beef, Cherry Pie or Pecan Pie again. I don't even have the recipes. I figure the recipe was from Betty Crocker or some other source like that so every chance I get I taste Cherry or Pecan Pie in hopes that someone else is making it the same way. So far, no luck. Mom probably changed the recipe anyhow.
My daughter is having her first Mother's Day today. The first of many to come. She is a great mother and with her good husband will provide Olivia Grace with the love and stability that I knew as I was growing up.
I wish a Happy Mother's Day to every mother. Especially, the mother of my children who did a great job in raising our three children. Thanks Kathy. Also to my sister, Phyllis, who raised two children with the help of my brother-in-law, Sam.
Ya'll take care of each other. Cya.