Happy Birthday Mom

Today was my Mom's 69th birthday. She was born in 1938 to a domineering bible-thumping mother, a weak dad, a cold and strange big brother and an unhealthy big sister. Before she was 2 she had another sister and a few years later a third sister. The older sister had all sorts of ailments and got a lot of attention as did the one boy and then the baby. Mom and Rose were sort of lost in the shuffle. She always hated being poor and dreamed of being a princess or of living in a faraway land. She loved to play make-believe. She wanted to wear pretty dresses to school instead of the denim overalls that were a staple in the family. She had to pick cotton to help put food on the table and would go for long periods without seeing meat on her dinner plate. When she was 14, her family moved again and she decided to try out for the basketball team. My Dad and one of his friends spotted her and both proclaimed her as their prize. My Dad won. His family was wealthy by the standards of that small North Carolina town and I'm sure he swept her off her feet. He was 16.

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A few years later her family moved yet again to a city that was 86 miles away. I have a whole notebook of the letters she wrote to my Dad. They are so cute. He took every opportunity to make the trip to visit her there. When he was 19 and she was 17, he gave her a ring. They were married the following December. It was 1955. She was so happy to be out from under her mother's thumb. She tried to finish high school but being married was too distracting. She ended up getting her GED a few years later. She still regrets that. My brother was born in July of 1957. Mom and Dad had been living in South Carolina, but my Dad insisted his child be born in the same town and state that he had been, so they moved back to North Carolina. Right around my brother's third birthday I was conceived.

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We had an unusual family dynamic. My Dad made every decision for everyone. When my girlfriends would ask me to ask my Mom if I could spend the night, I was confused. Dad was who you asked. I didn't see him be really mean to my Mom until I was 8 or 9. It wasn't pretty. This was the time of women being liberated and as Mom grew stronger, Dad got meaner. It all finally reached a boiling point after my brother left to join the air force in 1975. In the early spring of 1976, my Mom finally left for good. This was before all the standardized child custody stuff so I chose to stay with my Dad. Mom was hurt for years until I explained to her that I knew she would never get a clean break if I were with her. Dad would have used me for an excuse to visit. I wanted Mom to be free and clear to start her life over.

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She ended up falling in love with a co-worker who was also in a bad marriage. They were tired of all the trauma of small town divorce talk and wanted a fresh start and moved to Texas. When I came out several months later to finish my senior year here, Mom was like a new person. We got to know each other all over again and cried over things from the past. I love the person my Mom has become and she's one of my best friends. I hope her birthday was great and that she has many more.