There are some advantages of being the firstborn that have come into play as we approach this weekend’s celebration of Mother’s Day. As far as we know, there is only one portrait ever taken of Mama as a baby. It’s in splotchy shape, but I have it in the photographic folder that studios used at that time. I’m guessing this might have been taken in early 1913 since she was born October 21, 1912.
This second picture was somewhat of a surprise to the four McGee sisters since it shows Mama relaxed and happy with the two middle sisters. She was happy regularly, but seldom relaxed. This looks like my grandfather’s place, which may suggest some peace in returning “home.” Besides the four girls she mothered, she gave a listening ear to anyone who had a problem, taught school, chauffeured our country preacher father everywhere he went since he had visual challenges, gardened – the list is endless. An apt description for her was “busy,” not “relaxed.”
As the oldest, I am also the keeper of her 80th birthday celebration book. More than seventy friends and relatives sent letters telling of their memories of her. A crowd of family and friends from the churches she and Daddy had served gathered in an event planned by her four daughters. She assigned me the door (being the oldest, not always a perk) to be sure to get the names of people as they came in and surreptitiously pass them along just in case she didn’t recognize someone from long ago. She only needed my help once.
I’ve looked at the letters in the book from “the girls,” as we were called, this week. Each sister wrote a different set of memories but there were consistent threads in all four – Mama reading aloud, her love of learning and teaching, her ability to laugh at herself, and her faith. We were in a busy stage of our lives when Mama turned 80, but we would soon be glad that we had taken the time to honor her when we did. The specter of Alzheimer’s Disease would soon raise its ugly head in the days to follow.
I’m going to give myself a treat in celebrating this Mother’s Day and read the rest of the letters from people whose lives she touched while she was happily busy.