M is for May
Posted on Jun 2, 2014 in Disgorged
Disgorged - The Blog: 24 May 2014
M is for May; Mothers Day, Moms Birthday, Memorial Day.
May is a very complicated month. It begins impatiently, wanting to pull
away from April as if wants to be summer already. It then sometimes
( not this year, in this region) chills back with a frost or two,
reminding everyone that Spring it still is, as Yoda would say it.
So what? May is fairly regulated, too. Mothers Day is always the second
Sunday, just so we don't forget to go fund the greeting card industry,
also the florists, with fleeting reminders that we owe our Moms gratitude,
and also hopefully our love. The picture is of the flowers I got for Joyce
as a gentle reminder of what she already knows.
Flowers for Mother’s Day
Today would have been my Mom's 90th
birthday. Happy Birthday Mom. Mom was a
sort of non-traditional traditional mother
of the 1950's. She was in high school when
the war broke out, and got a secretarial/
clerk job with the government after she
graduated. What do you do when you live
in the great city of Chicago, you are
19-20 years old, and you have money (cause
you have a job!)? We heard rumors growing
up that Mom was a lot less strict with herself
when she was younger than she was with us.
Funny how that happens?! Well, anyway, she
ended up marrying this older brother of a guy
she dated for a while near the end of the war.
Way older. Sort of. Dad was eleven years older
than Mom, but it didn't seem to matter to them.
(btw, one of my best friends growing up, his mom
was ten years older than his father) . So age
probably doesn't really matter. Anyway, as good Catholics, they started breeding
little Brasfields on a regular basis, and Mom was the traditional stay at home
Mom of the 50's. However, once some of us kids got to high school age, she
got a job with the FAA outside of Chicago, using her previous time in service
as a leg up in the job hunt. Very non-traditional given the era, and even
more, surprised us all with the work she was involved in; computers!
The office within which she worked was responsible for data supporting the
Air Traffic Control Chicago Center, which meant O'Hare International
Airport. Although I don't remember her studying much at home, she regularly
passed tests for grade advancement and whenever upgrades to the software
were being implemented. Go Mom!
She worked there for more than twenty years but eventually left work via
medical retirement. She had fallen on ice in front of the office building
several years previous, and although she recovered well enough to return
to work, her back bothered her for much of the time thereafter.
By that time, all of us children had grown up, moved out, and must have
become huge disappointments, because she always had us come back for
retraining, pointing out that maybe we should do things differently. Just
kidding. Her home was the center of the universe for all things family
for the years to come. Later, some of that responsibility fell to two of
my sisters who lived with their families in the area, who took over hosting
the Thanksgiving and Easter events. Mom kept Christmas because that's the
way she wanted it.
We were in Philadelphia to hear a concert in which Eleanor was singing as part of
the CUA Chamber Choir, recruiting trip to entice students to
study at CUA Benjamin T. Rome School of Music, when we received a call that
Mom was ill and taken to the hospital. She passed away two days later on
Ash Wednesday. Eleanor sang and Joyce accompanied on piano, at her funeral
I guess that brings us to Memorial Day, the last M in May. Joyce's family
always had more of a tradition concerning Memorial Day than did my family.
The Hongsermeiers always visited family cemeteries to lay flowers on qrave
sites of relatives and reminisce. We did not partake in that kind of holiday
experience. This Memorial Day, we drove up to Gettysburg and spent an hour
or so walking part of the battlefield and having a little picnic lunch.
Well, that is enough for now. Thanks, Joyce, for being a wonderful MOM.
And Thanks, Mom for being you. Have a Happy Birthday. Share the cake
with Dad if you want!
Ray @ Cygnus