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Happy Mothers Day!

Posted by: Susan Marshall   |   Posted in: Cross Generational Experiences, Personal resources, Susan's Musings
Monday, May 12, 2008

 

My mother was the making of me.

Yesterday was Mother’s Day, and I thought I’d talk about my mother, Nancy King.

Mom was 19 when she had me. Training to be a nurse when she met my father, she had to put any ideas of a career behind her when I was born. My father was in the Navy at the time.

I was born on the Chincoteague Naval Base on the Delmarva Peninsula (a finger of land formed by DELaware, the part of MARyland east of the Chesapeake Bay, and a very small piece of VirginiA.) My sister was born on the Corpus Christi Naval Base. Except for this single move, my mother has lived her entire adult life on the Delmarva Peninsula—living the last 45 years only seven miles from where she was born.

 

By the time my brother was born five years after me, my father was out of the Navy (having had his first heart attack before the age of 30) and my mother went from being a stay-at-home mom to working full time to help support our family. We were not the typical Leave it to Beaver family.

As I grew up, I came to accept two things. First of all, women held down jobs. Sure, most of my friends’ mothers didn’t work, but certainly it didn’t seem odd to me that mine did. And, secondly, all my friends really liked my mother. More than once, I’d come home and see a friend visiting with mom. Thinking they were here to see me, I’d blurt out, “Sorry I wasn’t home when you got here,” only to hear my friend retort, “I stopped by to talk to your mother.”

Oh, and another thing: I grew up comfortable with smart women. While my mother wasn’t a lawyer or doctor, it was clear to me that she was confident in her abilities and respected at work. What I observed about my mother set personal expectations for any career I might contemplate.

 

My youngest sister was born when I was 14, and only three years before my father died of a heart attack at age 42. My mother, 36 and widowed with four kids, spent the next several years learning to adapt to her circumstances—especially hard given the fact that my father could only afford to leave us with a $10,000 insurance policy.

But thanks to my mother, we four kids each turned out pretty well, leading successful lives in various ways—whether it be love, career, family, or just living a moral life. And we are a very close family, each at the ready to help the other. Our mother’s generosity set an example for each of us.

 

Rick and I recently spent time with my brother and his wife in Florida. At dinner one night we laughed until our sides ached as we shared stories about mom’s sense of humor—a particular talent Bob and I hadn’t recognized when we were growing up. A perfect example: mom was hospitalized a couple years ago with pneumonia and congestive heart failure. It was touch and go for a while, but after several days in the ICU she was transferred back to her regular room—just as I arrived from Colorado.

My mother, whose hair has been permed and bleached as long as I can remember, had never missed her weekly hair appointment until this unscheduled hospital stay. Giving little thought to the ordeal that she’d just been through, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and dryly remarked, “I either look like a white Don King or a Q-tip that’s been plugged into an electrical socket.”

 

So, for Mother’s Day, I’d like to say thank you to my mother. Thank you for showing me that a woman can be smart and capable—and therefore admired and respected by her peers. And that same woman can be honest, generous and full of humor—and loved by her family and friends.

Happy Mother’s Day!

 

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