I have started this story many many times........
I have seen other stories about the unsung heroes in all our lives but I wasn't sure I could do justice to mine.
It is time for the story, as I saw it, to be told of my unsung hero. I hope I am up to the task.
She was always there, solid as a rock, never needing a hug or a pat on the back. She was tough when she needed to be. Would grow ten feet tall when mad. She could fix anything from toilets, electrical outlets, clean blood off of shirts having them look better then if they were taken to a dry cleaner, and make a meal for twenty people, all without batting an eye.
Through it all, she always had a song in her heart and from her came a song for everything. You could say one word and a song would emerge and you knew at that time things were just fine.
She made any Holiday a time to remember for young and old alike. On Christmas's she always had extra tiny gift's at the ready, in case someone dropped by unexpectedly. She never wanted anyone to feel left out.
She would spend days baking. Making tiny cookies, brownies and homemade candy. Bake bread, sweet and regular, along with 15 loafs of German Stollen to give away as gifts. Decorate the house with care to make sure all was perfect in our little world every year.
She loved to go dancing and way back when there were things called Charity Balls. She would go to them all. A new dress was made or maybe if it was a good year, a store-bought one.
Her hair was long and straight going well down her back. She would wind it up and use a million bobby pins making it look just like they wore it in the old black and white movies. You would sit there and be amazed for hours watching that happen to her hair right before your eyes.
All the twisting and turning and picks, hairspray, more picking with the end of a comb. Then watching her put snarls into her hair, more hairspray, more clips, bobby pins, turning this way and that to see behind. I always thought it a miracle she made it in time to leave the house, but she always did.
With her handsome man, my Dad, she would go out and dance and dance and dance. The next day her feet would hurt so bad you had to be kind of good so she didn't have to walk around too much. You really didn't mind at all because through the day you would get to hear the stories of the night before slowly come out through the day. She would savor all the fun in the retelling of the night before. Making it sound so glamorous you could not wait until you were old enough to wear those same dresses.
The dress when washed was hung in the closet with care to be seen out of the corner of your eye. All those tales would come running back to fill your head with wonder when you caught a glimpse of all those pretty colors.
She had a favorite tree. She loved that tree and spent as much time under it as she could. It was a birch tree. To hear her tell the tale of how it came to be you would swear that tree was magical.
She had her Herb garden around the base of that tree. She could sit there and clean out the weeds while smelling the herbs all day with the look on her face of pure joy.
That tree saw naptimes when the weather was warm. It was the closest tree to the house that offered shade. It was the tree where you could find her resting and reading a good book at the end of a long hard day.
When Winter came with ice and snow she would look out the kitchen window always making sure her tree was still okay. Did it have too much snow on the branches? Should we go out and shake some off? The worry she had over that tree still amazes me to this day.
She had two drawers with rules and to this day it makes me smile just thinking of them. They were both in the kitchen.
The first special drawer was a bit hidden behind a folding door but in that drawer was the most special of things that she could not live without. That first drawer held her toolbox. Let me rephrase that. The drawer itself was her toolbox.
Inside that drawer was two books. One on fixing home electrical things. The other book was on general home maintenance. Both of those books had worn pages from being leafed through whenever something went wrong. How, from those books, she managed to fix all the things she did is still a mystery to me.
Alongside those books were 3 screwdrivers, a tiny hammer, a box of picture hooks, rubber bands, twist ties and a corkscrew. Maybe some swizzle sticks too because it was right above the liquor cabinet.
Now if you were found with your hands in that drawer you best have a darn good reason! She guarded that kitchen drawer very well and if something was found missing the house would be torn apart until it was found.
The second drawer was the one, still in the kitchen, right under the phone that hung on the wall with the cord that could stretch all the way across the kitchen so she could still work, if needed, and answer the phone.
The second drawer had much looser rules if something was not returned. Kind of. It was a drawer where too many hands always went into, making it easy to blame others if something went missing.
You would still have to find whatever it was but the same panic wasn't there.
What was so special about that drawer? It held the phone books, pencils, pens, erasers, scissors, scratch paper for writing notes and the most treasured thing of all. Her dictionary. She could not and still can not spell the most simple words. Now here I do have to say that if you gave her a medical word she would rattle off how to spell it in 10 seconds flat.
She hated writing letters. To anyone. For any reason. If she had to write a letter that tiny dictionary was beside her while she mumbled and said the words Sugar and Fudge a LOT! This is a woman that I never heard say a swear word! Now my son tells a different story on the swearing of this unsung hero but that is his story to tell so you will have to wait to hear it from him.
She came from nothing yet had so much when it came to family, something unheard of nowadays.
Her Dad and Mom both came from family-owned German dairy farmers. Both had at least 10 brothers and sisters.
My Grandfather, who I never did get to meet much to my sad regret, was a Luthern German. While my Grandmother was a Catholic German. Guess who won that argument?!
It was a mixed marriage, yes that is what they called it back then if a Catholic and Luthern decided to marry. They had to get married in the back of the church.
She was born in the country near the family farms but then her older brother passed away. The Doctor told my Grandmother that if they had lived closer to the city he might have lived. I can not imagine that kind of pain and hope I never do.
Off to the city they went, my Mom and Aunt in tow. The Great Depression was going on and not many jobs were to be had. My Grandfather worked in a factory. The kind you read about in books. You know the ones where they work you to the bone for pennies. Where the air is filled with smoke and soot. Where they don't care if you're sick or get hurt. If you can not make it in there is always someone to fill your place. Yeah, that kind of factory.
This tiny, tiny blond haired, brown eyed girl, with little round glasses that was told how much they cost and to never lose or break them, now found herself living in a three-story Polish flat in a place called PigsVille. Personally, I think that is where she learned how to see the world through rose-colored glasses.
She tells the tales of how her Dad taught her to fight and not to be afraid. That as a girl and being so tiny someone was always going to be picking on her and he was right. Her claim to fame when telling the few stories she does about growing up is that she could beat the crap (my word not hers) out of every boy in her neighborhood! If you have ever seen her really mad you will know she is not telling a fib when it comes to that.
Her parents saved when they learned that she loved to sing and went to all her recitals. Her Dad proudest of all.
From there she went to a good Catholic school, one nowadays I couldn't afford to walk into but this was before when times were hard, and people took care of their own. All were offered a good education for free.
Then on to College and <I'm shaking my head laughing here> she was the Queen of not one but two Balls that year. My GrandMother made both dresses. She still talks about that year to this day and I love to hear those stories.
She went on to study chemistry. She really wanted to be an Astronaut but times being what they were plus her only being five feet, one and one half inch tall it was only ever to be a dream.
She would get up in the mornings, ride the city bus to school. From there go to her part-time job at a Department store then make sure she got the last bus of the night all the way back home. Starting it all again the next day.
She started dating my Dad in college. They got married while both were under twenty-one. Why is twenty-one a thing? Well, back then, in the USA, you were not an adult until age twenty-one which meant my Dad had to have his parents sign papers saying they approved of the marriage.
They had a small wedding as neither family came from much money but the photos are out of a magazine. She had a sixteen-inch waste along with an hourglass figure. She looked like a model.
They moved into a tiny apartment and my Dad was called by his Country to play basketball. Yes, basketball. If the stories are correct there was a lot of sneaking into the officer's clubs and drinking the night away too. That man could talk himself in anywhere! HA!
With my Dad's time served, it was time for them to start a family but..........
She couldn't.
Back then and even now, I can not imagine the pain you would go through finding that out.
The bright side for me was I got lucky and got the coolest Mom and Dad around.
She brought us up, my brother and me, with us having two birthdays. The first Birthday was, of course, the real day we were born. The second birthday or anniversary was the day they had brought each of us home.
They adopted my brother first. He was older than newborn when they brought him home to that tiny one bedroom apartment. Mom tells tales of them waking up and my brother sitting up in his crib just looking at them and not saying a word. He was the good baby.
My Dad, then, had a great job so they bought some land outside of the city. An acre and one half to be exact. The land had a creek running through the back. Behind that, a full woods. More creeks to the side of us but close enough to neighbors with kids our same age so you never lacked for anyone to play with. There was not a better place to have grown up.
They built a three bedroom trilevel house with windows everywhere. No matter where you were in that house you could always see outside. She filled that house with songs and love and made that new house a home.
Once they had this wonderful fine new home they looked for another child to adopted. That was me. I was told I cried a lot and my brother, after one day of me being part of the family, asked if they could go to the city to take me back. My Mom said........No. I have a feeling it was touch and go there for a minute as to her answer!
In this wonderful new home, I stayed. Now if it got below zero Fahrenheit, no matter how much you turned the heat up, it might get up to 55 Fahrenheit. If the wind came from the West forget it. You froze. No, if it did get that cold in the house, you know so cold you can see your breath, we would get to go downstairs taking our pillows and blankets. Lay down on the floor in this one perfect spot, where under the floorboards the hot water pipes heated the floor, making you all warm and cozy. JOY! Plus you got to watch TV all day! WoooooooT!
When the rains came that house would leak and leak and leak. No matter what they tried, it never stopped leaking.
Now my Dad was great at many things but fixing things or getting dirty he was not, which is why my Mom had her toolbox drawer!
Now the question becomes why didn't they hire anyone to come fix the house? Well, times got hard, then harder still, then so hard it's a miracle she didn't break under it all.
When I went to first grade Mom went back to work full time. She ran an office for Doctors for the next forty-five years. Driving in her tiny car to the city and back, rain or shine, snow or ice. She never gave up. She always made it to her job then back home to cook a full meal so the family could all sit down and eat together.
She has had to scrimp and save her entire life and never once have I heard her complain.
I have heard her upset at herself for not being able to figure out how to fix or do something. Can you say cell phone! Through it all, she has never complained something broke in the first place.
To say I think she is a very special unsung hero is an understatement. She has lived through so much more than I can write here and it still would not even be the tip of the iceberg.
She takes every day as a gift and yes, see's a lot of things through rose-colored glasses but I think she has more than earned that privilege.
I might complain about a few things she does that drive me batty but I can not imagine life without her in it. So please God let her enjoy another twenty years just like her Grandmother did.
Love you, Mom!
Thank you for reading my story!
I would love to hear your story!!
Much Love,
Snook