Good Morning Readers,
Yesterday Francis received his first report card for this year. All very fine! With the low score of 96.4% he continues to leave my, rather mundane, middle school record (of 40 years ago) in the dust. He must have got is ability from my mother who was one of those brain-e-ack type of humans who could just figure it out effortlessly. My mother's name was Mary and she was born in 1929 in Cambridge Ohio. I am sad that I really don't know much about her, she died when she was only 48 years old. The county auditor of the township I grew up in she worked all the time, leaving the children's upbringing largely to Josephine Ross who I mentioned in one of my earlier posts. Because I did not know my father either very well I grew up determined that, if I ever had children, I would wait until I could devote as much time and energy to them as I could. I have been somewhat successful in that effort.
I remember clearly my last conversation with my Mother. It was in the early spring. She was living divorced and alone, bitter at a world that was passing her by. I had stopped by at a telephone booth in a little town in Oregon called Lake Oswego. The sun was setting and the wind was blowing hard. The edge in her voice said more than her words. Why did I move to the West Coast? Why did I leave her when she needed me? I could hear her drinking on the other end. The comfort of the bottle making her speech slurred. She began crying and so did I, ending our call with a joint "I love you". The last words I would ever hear from her. She died soon after from an overdose of sleeping pills and booze all alone. Her hair was red and her eyes were china blue. She walked tall, straight like a dancer and kept her true thoughts and emotions to herself. In the sunlight I can see red tints in my kids Asian black hair. She would be proud of them.