Dear Mom, Happy 86th!

    Hi. I thought of writing something yesterday, but I am doing it now. The day after your birthdate. You were born the last of five young children, when both your mom and dad were 44 years-old. In the summer of 1940, when the Great Depression was about to end because the Germans were marching across Europe and the Japanese were a few more seasons from bombing Hawai'i.

    Born in Weymouth, Massachusetts, and raised in Hanover, rural parts south of Boston.She became a nurse and went to West Africa to help save the world. She met my dad, and they married in Freetown, and then us kids came along in Bloomington, Indiana. Where you lived most of the rest of your life, with the exceptions of vacations and the Mayfield work trips and the two missions to southeast Asia. She was close to her sisters, especially Alma. Alma, I just found out (when I talked to Terry), had a serious health condition lately, and spent a week in the hospital and is doing okay now. 

    Alma is hanging in there, age 89 or so.

    You liked to cook, but you also liked to eat out. And you could be particular at restaurants, asking the waiter or waitress to take the food back and get it better. Not always, just enough to be memorable. You loved antiques. You liked to gamble. Certain games, maybe blackjack and roulette? You would go to some horse and dog races, too. The dogs were somewhere near Boston, I think. I would stay at aunt Alma's and try to watch some shows, or read some books. 

    You had me over to dinner a lot, on Sundays or Thursdays, mostly.

    It was nice to visit with you when I moved back to Indiana for two years. It was nice to talk to you when I was in Indiana... When I was 27 and 28, and then later when I was in Afghanistan, but diagnosed with the terminal cancer.

    You stayed in good spirits.

    I think that you tried to spend some good times with the grandchidren, but there were some down times, too.

    You hung in there.

    Today is July 11, Saturday. The days have slide by since I wanted to write this. I will knock it out.

    It is nice to speak to you, one way or another. In prayers or songs, in stories or jokes.

    I met a Peace Corps service person last night, named Wendy; I got a chance to tell her about you in Togo and Sierra Leone, and later Cambodia and Indonesia.

    Jenny, your daughter, said maybe you felt more at home in some of those poor places. Not everything is accounted for by wealth, but it creates different environments and cultures, for sure.

    You were sweet and a blessing in all cultures. Especially mine, as a son with you close and far.

    You were my darling angel mom; not perfect. Always loving. I miss you, and I wish you a happy week, month, year.

    I could go on more; it is easy to speak to and speak about my mom. A lively, colorful, "empathic" as decribed by others, person, who I will always love and cherish.

    Here, there, and into eternity.

    Love you. Glad you made the trip, and all the trips.