Happy Father's Day, Mom & Dad!!!

Dads. I celebrate mine on Father's Day every year. But when my parent's separated in '79, I began to celebrate my mom on both Mother's and Father's Day because after that time, she was for me, both.

Fortunately, for me, my older siblings [I have 6...3 brothers, 3 sisters in that exact order], helped out during those lean years.
This fueled much of my teen rebellion. I simply wanted just my mom to care for me; and I resented having to share her with so many others. 

I have once again been blessed with the opportunity to share in her life, which, until recently, I didn't believe possible, due to certain circumstances in both our lives. 

I share this responsibility with two older siblings, one brother, one sister; whose presence alone helps provide a buffer zone between she and I, especially when our stubbornness is afoot.

There is a tremendous age gap that exists between us. But to me, 38 years is not just any old gap. Its a chasm...one that has always made it very difficult for us to see eye to eye on many interactions we have shared over the years. 

Resulting, of course, in each of us not truly being capable of HEARING what the other one says.

In some ways, I know she is a very open-minded woman, but there are still just as many concepts she remains closed to.

This is not necessarily a bad thing, I do have sense enough to realize that much of what she has not made me aware of; concerning her life, was to protect me. But I am also smart enough to know that she knows all the same is also true of me.

I have reached this conclusion, and many others beside, based on sharing some recent insights with my eldest sister; one being mom's total absence of fear in stressful situations.

It is, indeed, a very rare trait to possess. It speaks of the strength of one who has endured much. And though I am not often thought to carry on this trait, I have always known that I have it too, simply because of my ability to survive all that I have, for every one of my experiences has made me who I am today.

Yet, somehow, I've always known her strength has always gone way beyond that which she has shown me and much further than I have properly given her credit for. 

For me, living by the example she lives, has definitely taught me to truly appreciate her as much now, as I did as a child, more even; than just a day ago; in the short time we have been together again.

After miraculously surviving the Great Depression, when many others had not, she was forced to face the horrors of World War II, and its destructiveness, as a citizen of this country.

She has known many fears, that for most of us now living, would never hope to understand or even remotely relate to; for even a moment in our lifetime. Fears that leave me with an unimaginable picture in my head, especially since she experienced many of them so young.

The Great War, and its effects, changed the course of everyone's path on this planet in the instant it began. Even for those who were never directly affected by it, for they too were forced to take up the task of rebuilding the new world that resulted from its aftermath. For most who lived it, their inability to recognize it as the safe place it had once been, changed them irrevocably. 

For these folks, their survival today is testament of their inner strength, endurance, longevity, and patience. Their time on this planet speaks for how people who feel they MUST survive, actually do, no matter the cost. My mother, was just one...and so many more...are just like her, all around the world....

During wartime, I've been told, many great sacrifices were asked of everyone, especially from those still reeling from the effects of the Great Depression still raging here in our country. 

As citizens, it was widely considered to be commonplace, and everyone's civic duty, to sacrifice right along with the boys and girls fighting for us.

One such way we were called upon, to perform a bit of service here at home, was for some children, to be assigned to patrols, so they could learn to identify planes they encountered in the skies overhead; especially at night, and share that information, with the proper authorities.

This was one of my mother's assigned duties. 

[The first version of radar, as we have since come to know it, was not put into service until shortly before the Japanese surrendered in the Pacific]. 

For me, I KNOW, that as a child, I would not only; NOT ever have been brave enough to remain outside; for fear of being bombed; but knew with certainty from hearing the stories from my Grandma, about my mom; that I would not have had the presence of mind to stay calm enough to try to identify anything. 

I would have simply screamed and ran inside.

It simply isn't in me. Yet, as the story goes, my mother knew her planes pretty well. 

Recently, my eldest sister confirmed for me certain other information about situations she had been aware of about my mom, when she was younger too. 

Things I know that I most definitely, would never have dreamed of attempting in a million years, or have the courage to face, or even want to try. 

Proving the working theory I have always held to be true about my mom.

She has always been deserving of my holding her up as a true hero. And has also been deserving of not only my devotion, but my respect as well. She is quite simply, who I have always believed her to be.

The concept of growing up during the Great Depression Era, and as an only child, is something I will simply never have the capability of grasping; based on two simple facts. I have never lived alone with my parents and I have always had siblings. So it remains hard for me, even today, to relate to much of what my mom's rare perspective is, on her upbringing.

I can, however, accept that I have acquired from her, survival skills that I know many today don't possess and unfortunately, never will. This child, of parents from the Depression Era generation, learned long ago to appreciate more than she usually, and quite often, is given credit for understanding.

I may never come to know the stress of tending a garden for my very survival. But I pray my next meal isn't my last. I may never have had to rely on the bountiful harvest of a garden for sustenance...but I do pray daily that I will one day, soon, be able to do the flower garden I now find myself blessed with justice.

I am also fully aware that I am mere steps away from starvation just like my grandma and mom were; if my budget doesn't hold up.

I have, in my past, had to rely on the charity of others with regards to food pantries and social services...yes, I allow them to serve for me, a constant reminder that one bad month would be all it would take, to assure my place in line more often.

No, I do not know the never-ending fear for the safety of a father who was forced to live for many years, traveling much of the early American open roads; spanning across this great country of ours; during the Great Depression. 

[My grandfather; only stopped, for as long as any job he was lucky enough to find would hold out; sending the majority of his money home, whenever he could; assuring the survival of his baby girl, and the woman he loved.]

But I do constantly fear the loss of what precious little I have; just as they did; and well understand that I am blessed all the more because of their sacrifices. They allowed me to have a better life. And yes...I feel as fortunate as they did, to still have my loved ones...

I also know enough to take every precaution to keep everything I have, for as long as I possibly can.

So yeah, those lessons stick with you....And I am grateful for every fearful, unknown moment.

The strangeness of today is not quite unlike things as they were then and it is from the troubled times of my parents lives, and tribulations of my grandparents, that I have learned to respect that everyone is subject to the will of the times in which they live, making us or breaking us. 

And it is from this gratitude that I draw strength from, in any moment of worry I happen to find myself in, and realize, just how truly amazing life's simple blessings really are to us all.


Through my experience, as a child of parents of this generation, I have also always understood; that as much as my mom loved us, it was of utmost importance for her, to impress upon us, that things were always far worse for many others in this world; and that not everyone was blessed with what we had; to teach us, that on any given day; it could all be gone.

And I can honestly say that I am honored to have been witness to her sacrifices for our family, knowing full well we were the reason she worked as hard as she did. 7 days a week, sometimes 16 hours a day, to help my dad provide for all of us. 


Forty or so years of being the reason she woke up in the morning, and fell asleep for at night...taking on every responsibility she did, to see us rise as successful adults; capable of taking care of ourselves.

She did it, so that we would never come to know the stress of the hardships she endured, so not one single moment of fear from hunger was ever even noticed by any of us. No shred of hopelessness from fear for our existence, due to any precariousness or circumstance that befell us.

She made it her mission in life, to not let any tiny bit of helplessness ever get close enough to reach it's poisonous tentacles in our direction, as it had into her life before us...unwelcome as it was, with every visit, becoming her sole reason to give us everything she had...to see us all survive.

I have often told her, that my greatest fear has always been losing her, to a heart attack, or stroke or cut down by anything before it was her time. Every time I broach the subject she tells me, she isn't going anywhere, that God must still have something more for her to do, as she remains here.

But I have also heard her gentle cries at night into her pillows, and I know the images of any of these things happening to her, have passed through her consciousness; just as they have mine.

She simply refuses to allow any of it to take hold within her...even though we both know just how very real these possibilities have always been.

For me the result is the same, my devotion to her, and my desire to never be without her, has never wavered, and while I may have grown up, moved out, returning recently, only proves my need...to this day, to simply be near her. Because it is only during our time together, that I feel the safest and most loved.

Despite all our differences I remain her constant devotee and this fact remains as the truest testament of our shared endeavor to ultimately come to understand one another, as best we can, before our time together is up. 

Knowing she knows my pain at her loss will devastate me, it still does not deter me from my objective of letting her know that I am perfectly capable of losing her and not becoming lost amidst the absence of her physical presence. 

For SHE has forged within me, her iron will, to always make the best I possibly can, of every situation I face; with what I have been given. It is now my mission to let her know that it's my turn to comfort her, as much as I possibly can.

I have always known that her unconditional love has always been my every reward.

I also, definitely know I realized, at a very young age, that my perspective of my parents unique way of life, and the dynamics of our large family would always mean that everyone pitched in together to get the job done. That it was only through the cooperation and teamwork we showed, at the end of the day, that rewarded them for their hard work. 

It meant peace for them as they relaxed for the night. Confirming for them, the choices they made for us, each and every day, were right. Making it worth the expended energy and sacrifices made; and what made their days brighter, knowing they had a purpose. Allowing them to reach each goal they set before themselves; and each of us.

Despite any ingratitude we often showed them at the time.

And I KNOW this still holds true today...That it has always been in the many ways we choose to share our love with each other that we are rewarded. To GIVE of ourselves, with every breath, for this is truly where, and from what, all love stems; and it is in this giving, that we all miraculously pull through every ordeal we ever face, whether we were the ones to choose to face it or not.

My full understanding of this reaffirms MY purpose to live each moment to its fullest potential, so that I may continue to be blessed; and to share my days with others.

Yes, the trials of my forbears truly humble me, and I will always be grateful for every moment, the good and the bad, for this is how life was meant to be shared, in every way.

[Someday, I hope my children will be willing to share their insights with me on this, for now, I remain ever hopeful that they will before it is too late].

And I have come further still to understand, from an adult perspective, that even on the bad days there are still certain things that anyone, especially a mom, can be just as grateful for.

Yesterday's argument is just one example. Let me fill you in....

Twenty five years ago, my mom began a quilt that she asked me to choose the fabric for on one of our rare and special, shopping jaunts. She was making it as a gift for my having married that summer. I waited, and watched, patiently, as 15 years of other projects were pushed ahead in mom's line, and time slowly crept on by. Soon she came to the point of no longer being able to hold the needles to quilt anymore.

So I decided to ask her for the material, because I really wanted to try to complete the quilt. She agreed and gave me the project. That was 9 years ago.

At that point in time, I was faced with what I thought were only two problems. I had never learned how to use a sewing machine, [nor did I own one] and I had never quilted in my entire life; even though my mom did try very hard, when I was younger, to motivate me to do so. Still, I remain determined now to at least try, finally giving in to my desire to learn something else she can teach me.

Later that year, when I was living in the same building as one of my brothers, I got to know his wife, who shared many of the same interests as I did. She had tried to teach me how to sew on her machine. I did okay... for a clumsy novice. But I soon realized I had a LONG way to go and had abandoned the project, not long after moving away.

Then in 2005, I inherited my mother-in-laws, Sears Kenmore sewing machine, when she passed away from lung cancer, in early October. After painfully watching her suffer and lose her valiant battle, I came to the realization that this was the first time I had ever encountered the helplessness my mother had always sheltered me from.

I finally knew what it truly felt like. 

And I realized I was truly privileged to watch how dignified death could be for anyone, especially for a person, who always carried themselves proudly, and with no fear. 

It was only through this experience, that my world chose to show me that a loved ones death is never our end, it is merely the beginning of living the rest of our lives without the comforting presence of the one lost, and that this is what I fear most when my own mother is gone...

I do not know if I will have the strength to endure her loss, knowing that she won't physically be here to talk to anymore, to share with, to laugh with and to love. But I do know that I will always have her in my heart, and in my thoughts, and know that I am a better person for having had HER as my mom.

As I let my mother-in-law go, I vowed that I would learn to accept all future loss as lessons needing learned, and to do one of the things SHE once told me made her feel alive and free. As free as she became when she surrendered her Spirit willingly. To Sew.

And today, I am quite happy to announce that I am closer than ever to achieving this goal...

Two weeks ago, I took my sewing machine to Linda, my neighbor, who agreed to keep the machine at her house and teach me how to use it; as long as she could use it too. [My mom, does not know the newer functions of my machine and is currently more interested in social gaming, though she does offer help whenever I ask].

I was very excited as I sat before the shiny new apparatus and slowly stepped on the pedal. I returned home, after my first try, renewed in my purpose and began looking online for sewing tutorials.

Thank God for the internet! [I am currently signed up for classes at my own pace on Craftsy.com...if you get a chance and are in need of help too....check them out!]

I am now mere steps away from:

• Learning my machine

• Learning how to sew as well as
• How to machine quilt.

Several obstacles still stand in the way...but I have not been like a dog with a bone for all these years for nothing...soon, very soon...I hope to look at this time and laugh at myself for the excitement I now feel, for the following reasons are already seeming the easiest for me to overcome, as I know, I will be successful this time.

First, I must find a table sufficient enough for the sewing tasks I plan to undertake. Not being a budgetary expense at this time, I spoke to Linda about it. Fortunately, she had the answer and faced me in the right direction by pointing me to freecycle.org. I thought, well, this shouldn't be too hard, easy peasy...you would think, right? Wrong!

The freecycle.org community REQUIRES an application and multiple step approval process to become a member...I bit my nails, awaiting my response, and am very proud to say I am now a member of my local community group.

Then there's the itsy bitsy, teeny tiny, issue of modifying whatever table I can get my hands on, to best suit my new quilting and sewing needs...[I am a firm believer in ergonomics]...Can I do it? Sure I can!!!!

YouTube to the rescue!!!

I found and watched a two-part video [the first shown here], on how to modify even a small table to accommodate for my machine, and the ergonomics of my body, with instructions for using a rather unique way to quilt even large sized quilts using good 'ol sheets of foam board that you can get at any hardware store.

I remain confident in my ability to get it done!!! Seem complicated yet? No?

Try this on for size...next up, is setting up my bedroom as my new bed/craft room.

As I stated before, half my supplies are currently housed in the sun room, but I KNOW that I am going to need to be behind a closed door to be able to learn to sew and quilt via the internet!..

Can I be rescued again via YouTube? I certainly can!

After researching a number of videos from crafters around the world, I found many that provided plenty of motivation, inspiration and enough great ideas on how best to increase the comfort level of my planned new environment. [I have chosen not to share them here as I just could not edit ANY, because they all would prove most useful for anyone, they were all too good!...I recommend searching YouTube, so you can judge for yourself and discover exactly what I mean].

All I have to do now is add my personal touches to the new space. This will be key to creating the essential, calming effects, I desire for any mood I may happen to find myself in when I wish to craft..and that it is merely the beginning.

With the number of obstacles now facing me, I am definitely going to need as much calm as possible until the entire process is complete, and I am happily crafting away. I am definitely looking forward to all of it.

Knowing all this ahead of time will help me, of course, remain focused on my goal, as this has already been a true process of my passion, I have waited a long time, working very hard toward this goal's attainment already, and I refuse to give up again.

Yet, despite every one of the great epiphanies I mention, there remains what I thought was no saving grace for the last two remaining obstacles.

The first,, has already been testing my endurance, and more importantly, my patience and understanding of just how much longer, I may find myself waiting for the finished product, of my completed quilt. I'll explain...

Do you remember when I said half my supplies were in the sun room? Well, the other half are, just a bit further away than that, further away than my bedroom...further even, than from my house...try...over 1,000 miles away, in Chicago!

I have entrusted to my eldest son, who has already begun the procrastination game; the task of getting my items packed and shipped to me. Its already been just over a month since my initial request.

Yes, I understand he is a very busy man, and most days; like all of us, he simply wants nothing more to do than relax away his time during off hours...yet I have full confidence in him, and know that he will come through for me on this. [Edit: I have since last week...been successful in getting my daughter to help him out]!

As surely as the sun will rise tomorrow, they are both people of their word and I have full confidence, they both, will finish the job! And I am truly grateful for their hard work.

And yet even this too, pales in comparison to my most difficult challenge of all. Working with my mom, to try to get her to remember where she left off with the quilt....which brings us finally to my point.

The argument.

It was all about the quilt pattern details, Double Irish Chain [mom's choice 25 years ago], that has a continuous, repeating pattern. 

Ordinarily, one would assume that it would have been very easy to guess where to pick up the pattern again. A simple question, more or less, of checking the color order of the one, completed strip that is actually here, safely tucked away, in my sewing tin; and not left behind with the main body of sewn strips, in Chicago. 

Wrong again, we could not for the life of us figure out where on mom's homemade chart, this strip fit in. Not horizontally, not vertically, it simply didn't match up by color, or pattern key; in the order that this strip was sewn.

And yesterday,...was not a good day.

Let's just say that because mom tends to close herself off during an argument and because I insist it be resolved, I am usually given the cold shoulder, often leading to the silent treatment; and worse still, this happens in conjunction with the other, and yesterday was definitely one of those days.

Needless to say, after several hours of going back and forth between the pattern, the strip, and listening to the frustration rise in our voices; as we attempted to see each others perspective, we ended up dropping the subject of how best to approach the problem.

At this point, all we were able to determine was that neither one of us was willing to budge on where the project should begin again.

I gave up very tired, as I began experiencing a migraine, and I went to bed...early, and...still angry.

In bed, I tossed and turned the problem over in my mind, while at the same time, trying to justify my need to give her my negative attitude. 

For half the night, I bargained with myself but in the end, knew that I was seriously in the wrong for having said every mean word I spoke and this thought led me to realize that I had also broken one of her cardinal rules.

"Never let the sun go down on your anger, because tomorrow is not promised, to anyone”, and I drifted off into an uncomfortable sleep.

I awoke early, hearing her stir a little, and quietly slipped into her bedroom, to sit in her chair, to watch her sleep, As I watched her breathing, I instantly knew I could never give her the apology she deserved; the best apology in the world a person could give...and ever so much more..but I did try. 

I cleared my throat, and began..to sing.

Nothing fancy, just the same nursery rhyme she sang to me, as a child, to wake me from my slumber every morning. She smiled when I was done and before she could speak, I deeply apologized, for behaving as badly as I had..and bent to kiss her cheek..I told her that I loved her. Forever, in all the ways I knew how. 

She stretched, turned toward me, shrugging one shoulder and said...'"You know, there IS always MORE than one way to skin a cat...” I laughed. She giggled and smiled back at me.

She then got up for the day...and it felt good, really good, because I had started out our day on the right foot, and we were then willing to try again with the pattern.

When we sat down once again, to go over the chart once more, with fresh eyes and an open perspective; she was able to see EXACTLY where the strip had to go and we then verified its placement, marking the chart. We high-fived one another in exultation.

Her apologies may always come as double entendres, giving hidden clues in them, but deep in my heart, I KNOW that what was meant in her cryptic message about skinning a cat, was simply another lesson to learn: that all problems are solvable, as long as compromise is given instead of contradictions.

The message was loud and clear and it definitely got through. So much so that I called my kids and thanked them for just being themselves. 

So, Happy Father's Day, Mom and Dad, I love you!

Pink Diva Brat