Today is the day we celebrate mothers. For those of you fortunate enough to still have your mother’s in your life, consider yourself blessed. My mom died January 17, 2013, so this marks 7 years without my mom. Lest you think this is going to be one of those soppy blog posts that will leave you in tears, let me reassure you, that’s not my intention. Yes, I miss my mom every freakin’ day. However, I choose to focus on the good times. God knows, there’s enough negative things going on right now. So, let me tell you about my mom.
My mom’s name was Elvira. She was born and raised in the small town of Cherokee, Alabama. Never heard of it? Few people outside of the area have. It’s small with about 1,000 residents. It’s been years since I visited, so things may have changed, but there used to be a post office, gas station, Dairy Queen and a Piggly Wiggly. During my first trip to Cherokee, I remember walking into town with my cousins to pick up their mail. I had never heard of the post office not delivering the mail to the house. Notice, I didn’t mention a hotel among Cherokee’s businesses. There isn’t one. When we visited, we stayed with relatives or we stayed in the nearby town of Florence, which was only a 30-minute drive from Cherokee. Florence had hotels, restaurants and even a mall. So, it was a metropolis compared to Cherokee.
Born in 1938, my mom lived in the south during segregation. Her graduating class fell just shy of hitting double-digits, with 9 graduates. However, since all of the Blacks attended the same school, everyone knew everyone else and were all extremely close. Every other year, there was a reunion held in Cherokee for everyone who graduated from the school from 1938-1966 (the years prior to integration). For some reason, my sister and I could never quite understand, my mom LOVED Cherokee and could never wait to go back. As the family’s designated driver, I was often enlisted to help my dad make the 500-mile trek from Northwest Indiana to Cherokee.
My mom loved travelling, but was afraid to fly. So, apart from one flight to California on her 25th wedding anniversary, all of her trips were by car. She also loved fishing and going out to restaurants. The week she died, my dad, sister and I decided to go to one of her favorite spots, Bob Evans for breakfast. Our waitress recognized my dad and asked if my mom would be joining him. When we told her that my mom had died, she actually burst into tears and we found ourselves consoling her. After the obituary appeared in our local newspaper, we chuckled to find that she had also received a notice of condolences from the staff at Red Lobster (another of her favorites) in the funeral book. She was such a frequent patron, whenever she came into the restaurant, the hostess would start singing, My heart is on fire, for Elvira by the Oak Ridge Boys.
While in school, she played on the basketball team and never lost her love for the game. My sister and I both have degrees from the University of Notre Dame and both worked there at various points in our careers. So, we’re fans, but my mom was probably a bigger fan than either of us. She was a huge fan of Notre Dame’s Women’s Basketball team and loved to watch them on television when she could no longer attend games in person. If you came to her house on a Saturday in the fall, then you would find her watching ND football and screaming from her chair, “Run, boy run.”
My mom was married to my dad for 52 years. She had 2 kids, 2 grandchildren, and 2 great grandchildren. I miss spending time with her. However, I know that she is in a much better place and I know that one day, I’ll see her again. So, to all the mother’s I hope you have a wonderful day. Happy Mother’s Day!