MOM – The Woman Who Made Oatmeal Stick to My Ribs

I figure my Mom was normal in almost every respect regarding basic mores and teaching her children the standards of conduct, faith, and values passed on to her from her mother who was born in the late 1800’s. Mom did her best to instill in her boys born in the ‘40’s, 50’s and ‘60’s, virtues that would bring them success, happiness, and well being. Mom had seven sons, two daughters, and adopted an adult, my third sister, later in her life. She qualifies, in my mind, to remind us of what really matters most. She represents the best effort of millions of Moms who as children grew up in the milieu of the Great Depression of the 1930’s, waited for their soldier boyfriends and husbands of the world’s greatest military conflict of all time – World War Two – and denied herself comforts unknown to previous generations in favor of her children having the best she could give. With that alone, Mom merits Sainthood. And I believe the reader will also agree that “Mom” is a sacred and affectionate title given to the woman we know the best, one who always put our needs above her own. The themes portrayed here are also appreciations for Moms. I am sure my stories are, by in large, representative of most experiences the reader will have known in growing up under the care of a good mother. But my Mom is, after all, the only Mom I have had experience with. So for fun I will refer to those days and experiences that showed me a way of living I give gratitude for now. If by chance you did not have a positive experience, missed growing up under the protective wings of an angel mother, I offer you mine, with the hopes you may feel the guiding love, and use it from this time on to influence those in your
care and all others around you.