Riding the storm out...
Let me tell you a story. This is the story of a strong, independent woman. Some of you out there may claim to be, and are, in your own right, but in my mind you don't hold a candle to this fine lady.
She grew up on a small farm in Pennsylvania, in a time when poor was the way of life, and they were poorer than most. But she survived.
She worked for well nigh on 50 years, to make money to survive, and survive she did.
She raised 5 children, practically on her own, providing and caring for them. She taught them right from wrong. She taught them that they must stick up for themselves, but moreover, to stick up for others. They learned to give what you can to help others, and to be independent and stand alone and not ask for help from others. They learned to face adversity and conquer it, to run toward trouble when others run away, as someone may need assistance. they learned to hide their own pain, as others may need nurturing, and would need a strong shoulder. They learned to be kind, and to be polite, and what to do when it was time to no longer be polite. She laughed, and gave them all a sense of humor to entertain, and to be able to laugh at themselves. They were good kids, and grew up to be good, responsible adults. None of them are terribly rich, but they provide for themselves and for their families. And they almost drove her crazy. But she survived.
She'd been through many disasters, including hurricanes and tornadoes, very lean times, accidents, broken bones, skinned knees and bruised egos. She survived, and so did her children.
She suffered a broken back, due to a poorly designed walkway, slick with rain. She gritted the pain, and survived.
She underwent cataract surgery, which went wrong, and left her with fuzzy, blurred vision in one eye, and she survived.
She worked long and hard, to provide for her own, and to give herself a little peace when it was time to retire. She sold the duplex that she owned, and bought a small manufactured home in a predominantly retired community. She made it her home. A place to survive, and to relax after 70 long years.
Then came a storm named Wilma. Wilma was not kind to this fine lady. It smashed her storage shed, which she used as a laundry room, to the ground. It carried her covered carport aloft and wrapped it around the tree across the street, 80' in the air. It completely absconded with her screen room, where she would spend quiet mornings, drinking her coffee, reading the paper, and filling in the inevitable crossword puzzle. It tore panels off the exterior walls and ripped the roof off like so much tin foil. Through some grace from above, the interior of the home survived, as did the bulk of her meager treasures.
After the storms of the year past, the insurance company decided that it was not worth insuring this haven any longer, so they dropped her. She is now left with a home that is untenable, and probably unrepairable, awaiting the mercy of FEMA, in the hopes that they will do what they were created to do, and help her. Otherwise, the meager nest she worked her whole life toward is gone. And yet, somehow, someway, she will survive.
In the event that you haven't figured it out, this fine lady is my mother, and one of my very best friends. She is one of the most amazing people I know, and I know quite a few. It hurts me so to see her suffer, and aches more knowing that there is little I can do for her. But I will do what little I can. And I will survive.
I know this is a bit of a serious departure from my usual lighthearted ravings, ramblings and mutterings, but I wanted to tell her story.
She grew up on a small farm in Pennsylvania, in a time when poor was the way of life, and they were poorer than most. But she survived.
She worked for well nigh on 50 years, to make money to survive, and survive she did.
She raised 5 children, practically on her own, providing and caring for them. She taught them right from wrong. She taught them that they must stick up for themselves, but moreover, to stick up for others. They learned to give what you can to help others, and to be independent and stand alone and not ask for help from others. They learned to face adversity and conquer it, to run toward trouble when others run away, as someone may need assistance. they learned to hide their own pain, as others may need nurturing, and would need a strong shoulder. They learned to be kind, and to be polite, and what to do when it was time to no longer be polite. She laughed, and gave them all a sense of humor to entertain, and to be able to laugh at themselves. They were good kids, and grew up to be good, responsible adults. None of them are terribly rich, but they provide for themselves and for their families. And they almost drove her crazy. But she survived.
She'd been through many disasters, including hurricanes and tornadoes, very lean times, accidents, broken bones, skinned knees and bruised egos. She survived, and so did her children.
She suffered a broken back, due to a poorly designed walkway, slick with rain. She gritted the pain, and survived.
She underwent cataract surgery, which went wrong, and left her with fuzzy, blurred vision in one eye, and she survived.
She worked long and hard, to provide for her own, and to give herself a little peace when it was time to retire. She sold the duplex that she owned, and bought a small manufactured home in a predominantly retired community. She made it her home. A place to survive, and to relax after 70 long years.
Then came a storm named Wilma. Wilma was not kind to this fine lady. It smashed her storage shed, which she used as a laundry room, to the ground. It carried her covered carport aloft and wrapped it around the tree across the street, 80' in the air. It completely absconded with her screen room, where she would spend quiet mornings, drinking her coffee, reading the paper, and filling in the inevitable crossword puzzle. It tore panels off the exterior walls and ripped the roof off like so much tin foil. Through some grace from above, the interior of the home survived, as did the bulk of her meager treasures.
After the storms of the year past, the insurance company decided that it was not worth insuring this haven any longer, so they dropped her. She is now left with a home that is untenable, and probably unrepairable, awaiting the mercy of FEMA, in the hopes that they will do what they were created to do, and help her. Otherwise, the meager nest she worked her whole life toward is gone. And yet, somehow, someway, she will survive.
In the event that you haven't figured it out, this fine lady is my mother, and one of my very best friends. She is one of the most amazing people I know, and I know quite a few. It hurts me so to see her suffer, and aches more knowing that there is little I can do for her. But I will do what little I can. And I will survive.
I know this is a bit of a serious departure from my usual lighthearted ravings, ramblings and mutterings, but I wanted to tell her story.
posted by Turtle at 2:08 PM
4 Comments:
I only met your mom a few times, mostly when we would stop by your house for a brief respite before going out for youthful debauchery, which admittedly for us wasn't all that debauched(climbing trees and telling bad jokes, hitting roads, etc.) but I remember she always had a smile on her face, no matter how weird the mission we were on. I earnestly hope for all to be well with her, and if you need my help in any way, you know where I am.
What a beautiful tribute to your mother! Finger crossed and prayers sent that FEMA does in fact help her.
According to their own press releases, FEMA *should* help your mother. http://www.fema.gov/news/newsrelease.fema?id=19420
Whether it will happen in a reasonable amount of time, or at all, is another question. FEMA hasn't been earning a very good repuation over the last year or so.
If there is anything I can do to help, let me know. I can't rebuild her home, but there may be some way I can help out.
This is a lovely tribute to your Mom. Thanks for sharing her story with all of us.
Bela
Post a Comment
<< Home