My Other Mother

 One of the first things that I noticed about my new mother-in law to be was her beautiful red hair.  Her skin was fair, her eyes were the azure blue of a summer sky.  She was in her sixties when I met her.  She was still a beauty.  It soon became apparent that her beauty was far deeper than her skin.  I fell in love with her almost as soon as I fell in love with her son.  My love for her son deepened after I met his mother.

Through the years my admiration and love for her continued to grow.  After twenty something years of marriage, her husband developed alcoholism.  He was ashamed and so he would stay away when he was drinking.  His absences became longer and longer.  He wasn't working regularly.  She had not worked outside of her home since her marriage.  Now she was desperately trying to find ways to keep a roof over their heads, and food in their stomachs.  She had five sons.  The oldest was about to join the military.  My husband, the youngest was not quite ten as it began to unfold.  

Brilliant, charming, she began baking.  This was her short term way of coping with hardship.  She would have her sons travel door to door to sell her wares.  Her cakes sold like, well like hotcakes as the saying goes.  I can affirm that her cake baking knew no match.  On the other hand, there is a family joke that the bread that she made is still used as a football. 

 The ultimate irony?  She had adored her father when she was a small child.  He apparently also adored her in return.  He became an alcoholic and disappeared from their family life.  So cruel that her husband also followed that path.  Most remarkable of all?  I never heard her say a negative word about her father or husband.  It was abundantly clear that their struggles with alcohol were not allowed to dim the love that she felt for them. Hers was not the love of denial.  She knew far too well the challenges that they had.  She made the conscious choice to remember the positive.

Reaching a very precarious position financially, she packed up the family and moved several states away.  My father-in law had gotten a job. Ever positive and hopeful she packed up their tired old family car with kids, and the few belongings that could be squeezed in around the kids.  Unfortunately, it became apparent fairly soon that divorce would be the option she needed.  She was abandoned with children to raise.

Again she packed up the even more tired vehicle, and loaded in kids, and even fewer possessions.  Now she moved even more states away to be closer to her family.  It was the 1960's and divorce was still considered a scourge as though somehow it was contagious, or that only poor quality people would be involved.  Now they bounced about from teeny, tiny apartment, to even teenier, tinier apartments. 

 Mom got a job as a secretary-receptionist.  It had been decades since her previous job.  A brilliant human being mom not only thrived, within a few years she had been promoted from secretary/receptionist to the first women detective for consumer fraud in that state.  She managed to climb up the ladder by being extremely observant, and making herself necessary in all of the cases.  

Things did improve a bit financially.  The unfortunate reality was that she was told, "We can't make your salary commensurate with our male detectives.  They have families to support."  WHAT?  Not only did that continue to lower her families financial future, it later lessened substantially the retirement income that she received.  

Never one to dwell on the negative she proceeded to close some landmark cases.  She looked like a lovely grandma.  She would act as though she didn't quite understand the falsehoods they were telling her.  Then she expertly gathered evidence. She would come back and shut down the organization.

At six foot four inches two hundred sixty pounds, my husband was quite imposing.  Mom had officers that could come with her as back up.  She often preferred having my husband come instead.  He said that he would stand behind her looking as mean and tough as he could.  

This description will not be understood by those under fifty.  You can google these people if you're curious.  This was my husband and my favorite description of her work, "She looks like Edith Bunker, and has the mind of Remington Steele."  That was part of her gift.  She looked so sweet and loving that often people would underestimate her.  

I was honored to name our first child after my other mother.  She always treated me with love and support.  I did not realize, however, that this first child would grow up to be like her namesake in far more than name alone.  

 I'm eternally grateful for my other mother.  She was a gift, an inspiration in my life.  My husband was the brilliant, charismatic, funny man that he was because she was his mother.