100 years ago today! Happy Birthday, Nina!

Nina (pronounced with a long I) was my mother. Today would have been her 100th birthday. She passed out of this realm in April of 1982, but her spirit and humor are alive and palpable in my home. She was near 40 when I was born, so I have no personal memories of her as a young woman, other than a few cherished photographs. Two of my favorite stories about her early days are how I love to think of her. The first night she met my father, a young Army Air Corp officer, instead of a gentleman's polite goodnight, he said to her, " I am going to marry you." This was not long after she had won a contest as a Clara Bow look alike. I think you will agree that she deserved it. That's Nina on the left, and Clara on the right. I really think the IT girls have a certain twinkle in their eyes. (Updated from an original post on this date 2009, the year I began this blog.)

Sepia & Memorial Day

Have you ever put off writing a post until you took care of another one that had been waiting, and you have not done that one, so you really should not do any until you can pull yourself together and just do it RIGHT? Yes I have procrastinated, and that is the truth. I have been wondering what I could say about a month long absence from The Keeping Room other than "School just takes up all my time!" I have been busy, mostly with work, but also with just having a wonderful time which I will tell more about in the coming summer days.

For now, I am ready to tell you about my Sepia girl, a day late for Sepia Saturday, but on time for tomorrow. The little girl you see above posed for the camera some time in the early 1930's. She was eight or nine years old. I believe this was taken before scarlet fever rendered her deaf. Elsie, named after her mother, was a bright and industrious student. She had two brothers, William and Thomas. Her father was an accountant for Tennessee Coal & Iron and her mother a loving homemaker. After high school, she earned a scholarship to Gallaudette University that she never used. However, marriage was foremost in her plans, and she married just as America became involved in World War II. Her older brother William, First Marine Division, died on an island in the South Pacific, in the spring of 1944, just weeks before her first child was born. Three years later, she had a daughter. Her younger brother Thomas, 11th Airborne, fought and died in the Korean War. His body was never recovered.

Before Elsie died in January of 1981, that first born son, my husband, known to my readers as the Colonel, promised her (as she no doubt had promised her mother Elsie) that he would make every effort to bring her little brother home. True to his word, he has pursued this goal through the Defense POW/Missing Personnel Office. (Click on the blue to read all about it!) He and his sister have sent in blood samples to have their DNA recorded. He has attended their regional meetings and heard some amazing stories much like one that aired on NPR (click in the red to listen) last month. Due the the location of Thomas's last battle above the 38th Parallel (the dividing line between North and South Korea) the chances of any attempt to find his remains are remote. Dealing with North Korea is a political barrier that only time can remove. This organization was born out of the efforts of families of the Vietnam POW's and MIA's. I hope that it endures. Perhaps some day Thomas will be sent home.

William was awarded the Silver Star posthumously. He is buried with his parents in Birmingham. The Colonel and I inherited his coffin flag and the one that was also given for Thomas. I composed a poem inspired by the story of Elsie, her brothers, and the two flags. I will post it on July 4th.

Sepia Saturday #3: Wrapped in Love & Fur

Among the many mementos and treasures which my father brought back from Europe in the spring of 1945 was a bundle of creamy white fur hides.

My dad said they were baby goatskins. He had last seen my sister Anita when she was 7 or 8 months old. She was three and a half when he returned. Anita and I have been visiting over lunch today, and she is my primary source for these facts. She remembers being told they were actually from the isle of Capri . Her first knowledge of the hides was seeing my mother and father spreading them out on the dining room table. The fur was very soft with a delicate wavy quality.

"Anita, we're going to make you a coat."

The best part of this story for me, is having Anita recall with pride and wonder the unique talents of our mother. She was, albeit self-taught, an accomplished seamstress. She made a pattern for the coat, bonnet, and muff. Once the pattern was laid, my father and mother used a razor blade to cut out the pieces. Though Mother had a pedal powered sewing machine, we believe she hand sewed the pieces together. Our dad helped fashion the covered buttons. The buttons fastened to an elastic loop covered in creamy satin--the same fabric which lined the coat, bonnet, and muff. Pink satin ribbons adorned the bonnet with bows and the ties making another bow under the chin. There were more bows and a strap for the muff. To complete the ensemble, Mother made a pair of cream woolen flannel lined pants with a bib waistband and straps which had gathered cuffs at the ankles fastened with pearl buttons. The pants were worn over a matching satin blouse in the classic style: Peter Pan lace edged collar and puff sleeves. There are no known pictures of Anita in the "little white coat" as we have always referred to it. She wore this until she was too big for it. My sister Sue, born December 1945, was next in line to wear this coat. She had the hair to match it! Our mother carefully maintained this coat through her first two girls, and it was in perfect condition still in the early fifties when it was just right for me. Thank goodness for the familiar old dime store photo booths!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anita and I have realized today that this coat, so lovingly crafted over 65 years ago by our parents, could not have been enjoyed any better than if it had been the finest ermine. In actuality, it is really just the little white Italian goat coat.

Becoming REAL: Why I Feel Like the Skin Horse

"It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

****

Five Random Facts on Being a Mother

1. My first son was born while his father was flying missions in Vietnam,

and nearly twelve years later my second son came along and joined us...

so I have really had two distinct motherhoods!

2. I loved having a teen and a toddler...sort of like two only children... big brother loved dragging out all his classic Fisher-Price toys and Dr. Seuss books.

3. As I look through old photos, I recall the sweetest sound:

I can almost hear tiny feet thumping down the stairs in fleece sleepers

making a beeline to me for that good morning snuggle.

4. The hardest part of being a mother - the part that really HURTS- is knowing when I cannot interfere and that MY child may be hurt or disappointed

or betrayed or disillusioned no matter how much I love him.

5. My greatest joy is in celebrating each son's happiness,

his accomplishments, and his unique gifts to the world.

****

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful.

"When you are Real, you don't mind being hurt."

*****

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse.

"You become. It takes a long time...

Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

In the swing of things with Son #2

Outdoors with Son #1

High school senior, Mom, and kindergartner

Son #2 - May Day Program 1987

Even though I look at my younger self in these photos, and ask the inevitable, "How did these boys grow up so quickly as I grew older?" I just smile and remember my many, many, many happy hours, days and years spent with them. I embrace who I am today because of them and will enjoy our years yet to come!


"I suppose you are real?" said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive.

But the Skin Horse only smiled.



from The Velveteen Rabbit
by Margery Williams


This post was inspired by yet another wonderfully rendered
meme posted by Willow of Life at Willow Manor

on May 10, 2009.