I especially remember my two grandmothers for the phrases they often used when speaking: my Grandmother Ivey always said, "That's the ticket!", and my Grandmother Measday was always saying, "Believe you me!" I tried to remember something comparable for Mom, but the best I could come up with was her telling my brother Sparky to comb his hair because he looked like a Fiji Islander!
Mom was a wonderful mother who went to great lengths for her family. She was a simple, but good cook who kept us well-fed. She had a classic taste in men's clothing and she kept us well-dressed. (Many is the time in later years when I would have gladly accepted the embarassment of having my mother pick out my clothes as a small price to pay for her sound advice!)
Mom helped us with our schoolwork and taught us to always do our best, not because we had to but for the joy of learning. She regularly took us to the museums downtown, the folk life festivals, to Monticello and Mount Vernon, and so on. When I developed an interest in astronomy in high school, she found out about and took me to an astronomy colloquium at NASA.
She supported us in our extracurricular activities, from sports to hobbies. For example, I played and loved the violin when I was younger. Despite my reluctance for daily practice, Mom took me to my violin lessons in Silver Spring every week for five years; after the lesson, we would get an ice cream cone from Giffords, check out the nearby thrift shops, and stop by the grocery store in Hillandale to do the week's grocery shopping. (Actually, Pete drove me to my lesson one week; I remember this because he picked up four jugs of milk that ended up leaking all over the floor of his Maverick!)
Mom instilled in her sons a love of reading, particularly at the dinner table, for which her daughters-in-law have never forgiven her! The magic of books was made even more so by the abundance of books she gathered for us. Mom herself was a voracious reader. When she lost her eyesight, she continued by listening to books on tape (over 500 by one count). After her stroke, she was especially comforted by Dad reading to her.
It has never been settled who got the better part of the bargain when Mom and Dad were married over 51 years ago. Mom always insisted that she did and Dad has always insisted that he did! Regardless, their love for each other and their devotion to each other was evident in countless ways. When Dad was in heart surgery, Mom wouldn't leave the waiting room for 16 hours or more until Dad was brought out of the operating room, safe and sound (more or less). I will long remember the frequent sight of her coming down the hallway at Holy Cross, taking the Metro down to GW, emerging from the roller-coaster parking garage at GW, with her cane in one hand and her purse in the other.
Likewise, Dad was tireless in his attention to Mom as her health failed. From the difficult trips to Baltimore for her eyes to his daily attendance on her at the nursing home and his sleepless nights of unresolved worrying, Dad returned her love with interest. In the nursing home, Mom used to say to me, "I may not have done much, but I gave you all a good father - he is a prince among men."
The trials of the past few years should not obscure the many good years that preceded them. Although their sons gave them gray hairs, their daughters-in-law and their grandchildren have been a source of great pleasure. Mom and Dad developed and shared many interests over the years: Williamsburg (where they courted), antiques, azaleas, oriental rugs, Japanese prints, and others. Many a quiet summer evening was enjoyed sitting in lawn chairs outside, watering the dogwoods and the azaleas.
Mom had a good sense of humor and loved to hear as well as tell a funny story. Even her ill health was not untouched by humor. Once, at the Eye Institute in Baltimore, Mom was feeling her way down one hallway and the doctor who had dismissively told her she wouldn't lose her eyesight was rushing down the other hallway. Andy was sitting at the intersection and saw them both coming; he said he could have prevented them running into each other, but he didn't want to!
When Mom was transported from Leland Memorial to Holy Cross Hospital at the time of her stroke, the ambulance crew consisted of the driver, who looked like Mom's brother Bill, and two strapping young men. The considerably more senior driver, when he found out that Mom was blind, leaned over with a twinkle in his eye and said, "Jeanne, there are three of us taking you to Holy Cross - I'm the handsome one!"
And, in the nursing home one time, Mom was arguing with Jenny Stylos, one of the nurses who was turning her. Jenny, trying to calm her down, called her "Honey". Mom said "Don't call me honey!", thought for a second, and then added, "Call me anything you want, but don't call me late for dinner!"
The thing I will most remember about Mom and of which I am most proud was her concern for others. She used to tell us stories about the Depression, about how her grandmother used to make sandwiches and coffee for the down-on-their-luck souls who passed through looking for work. During World War II, Mom spent evenings after work volunteering in a hospital, which was short-handed because of the war. I remember when her friend, Margaret Bode, was dying of cancer. Mom would visit her in the hospital, taking along shampoo and towels so that she could wash Mrs. Bode's hair in an effort to make her more comfortable.
During the summer, Mom would set out ice-cold TABs for the garbage men. She used to watch out for Mrs. Camp, an elderly neighbor who was having trouble coping with everyday living. Mom daily drove Mrs. MacGruder back and forth from the hospital for the last several weeks of Dr. MacGruder's life and she would send us over to shovel their walk when it snowed. She cared for our Aunt Louise and for Grandma Ivey, despite her own failing health. And, when Dad was in the ICU at GW, she got to know the other families and their stories, and sympathized and grieved with them.
My mother's thoughtfulness and compassion stand as an example to us, but they were not unique to her. These traits have also been characteristic of my parents' friends and neighbors, who have helped my parents in ways both large and small these past few years.
And the same should be said of the aides, nurses, and volunteers at the nursing home, who changed the bedpans, who fed Mom meals, who popped in to say "Hello!" when they came on duty, who included her in their lives, who prayed for her, and who kept a watchful eye on our stubborn Dad.
There was a miracle in my mother's life: when Aunt Nancy called up and said, "Hi, Jeanne! This is your sister!" Little did Mom know at the time that the love of her brother Bill and his wife Phyllis and of her sister Nancy and her husband Bud would someday be a source of great comfort to her, as well as to Dad.
I don't know how my brothers will remember Mom, but I will remember her getting a flat tire taking Sparky to the airport for his flight to an archaeological dig in Israel, playing chess with Peter on the chessboard Dad made, and watching soap operas with Andy. And I will remember the quiet pleasure during my college years of sitting in the dining room with a late-night snack and a good computer book, with Mom sitting in the living room reading or watching the news.
I believe that God used Mom's illness to prepare the rest of us for her death, to soften the loss to us. As I told my daughter, we can be glad that Mom is no longer sick and that she can now see her grandchildren whom she loved (and still loves) so much.
We love you, Mom.