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The picture was taken in 1985, when she was 68 years old, at my sister's wedding. I called her either Lady or Mutha', depending on my mood. She passed away in 1993 at my home, with my sister and I holding her hands. She was funny, kind, elegant, flirtatious (during her final illness she had her two young doctors blushing and digging their toes into an invisible carpet as she praised their handsomeness) and, at times, startlingly and stubbornly close-minded; even bigoted.
The other day I figured out how to scan in these old photos that, though not of the best quality, are how I choose to remember Lady.
I invite you in the comments to submit any photos or reminiscences of your own mother.
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This picture with her dangling cigarette and Bonnie & Clyde pose was taken in 1974, when she was 57 years old. I was in high school, she had divorced my dad, and we were living on a shoestring, without a phone, a car, or any disposable income to speak of (she took the bus to work and I walked down to the corner pay phone to talk to my friends). My brother-in-law had just found us a bargain-- this 1953 Chevy Bel Air he paid $50.00 for, a car that sucked up at least a quart of oil a week and died three months later. Apparently it was more for show than for actual driving.
Keep in mind-- this was a woman who had 8 children. I was the youngest and never saw the beauty she must have been in her youth.
Mom was a Republican and she had her blind spots about minorities and gay people that we fought over. When I was in my early 20's a niece began dating and then living with another woman. Christmas was a huge deal but my mom would not invite the niece's girlfriend, no matter how much I argued with her. She did not approve and that was that. I pointed out the various boyfriends I'd brought to Christmas Eve she also hadn't approved of, but she was adamant. She was not a religious or church-going person and could not summon a reason to go against her cardinal rule of "Be Kind" other than to say she could not approve. She felt vindicated in her disapproval and even took credit a few years later when the same niece married a young man and began having children.
She could never quite figure me out-- my liberalism, my refusal to have children, my insistence on finding a different path in life-- but she always encouraged me to find my own way. But then, what parental relationship isn't fraught with at least some ambivalence?
Oh-- and she was an absolutely terrible cook.
I invite you to join me in the comments with stories and reminiscences of your own mother, or other mothers who helped you along your way. Any pictures are also welcomed!