INTRODUCTION: On January 22nd of every year, I write about my mom. This year, instead of something new, I may just take two or three from the past, in memories, and repost. Unless I edit, any references to age would be wrong. She was 62 when she died, I was 44. She’d be 90. My guess is that the only other reference would be the years gone, which would be 28 years today. Over the years, I’ve tended to use the same photos. This one was taken in 1956. It was taken a few days after her 22nd birthday. My 4-year-old self was in it, but I bit myself out a couple years ago it seems. This was written January 22, 2023.
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Every year on this date, I write about my mom. It morphs into something to include my dad. There’s always some variation in what is written, but only a little. It’s always long, using a stream of consciousness, my natural method of writing. I like it because it starts with a sentence and ends when it ends. The long versions are better because they tend to be therapeutic. Another time, I can do a more extended version. My mom’s history is fascinating.
This year, I’d like to keep it short. I’m trying to blank my mind so I can focus and not meander. The picture I used in the past was of my parents and me standing outside the University of Akron Law School taken in 1983. I have my cap and gown on. My dad is wearing what looks like a suit, but it would be out of character for him to wear one. No doubt he had on a clip-on tie. My mom is wearing a dark skirt and a white blouse.
The one shown here is from 1956. Back then, it wasn’t uncommon to have a family photo in black and white painted. And it is a family photo, in a sense. There’s a separate one of the two of us, with this being taken on the same date. She probably wanted the equivalent of a 1956 selfie. It was right after our birthdays, both in September. My mom had just turned 22, and I was four.
Enough of that. I’m getting off on a tangent. This is where I started talking about my mom and giving readers a history of her. I also mentioned how it was my dad who suggested I go to law school before I wasted too much more of my life. It’s an interesting story to me, and I’m sure I’ll give a history lesson on his life and times, too, but I’m digressing again.
January 22 is important because it is the date my mom died. That was 27 years ago, over a quarter century. My dad died six years later, and heck, that’s two decades ago. In Abe’s speech, “One score ago, my dad died.” So that’s a significant portion of my life I’ve been orphaned.
My mom died pretty young at the time, and I did two things. First, over the next year, on every conceivable holiday, I got a card for my mom and wrote to her about what was going on with the family. The cards were then sealed and remain so today. I found the cards in a large envelope not long ago and was tempted to open and read each. I didn’t. That wasn’t one of my promises. I just went off track again.
I made the promises in writing to her for the funeral, which I penned early that morning. Mom loved dancing and hiking. So, I promised I’d dance one more dance for her and take a hike for her. I kept both. My inspiration for what I wrote came from a tee shirt with a couple of words and a Bible passage: “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures, he leadeth me beside the still waters.”
So, it seems this is a good place to end. To say she and they remain loved and missed is an understatement