In those volatile days after that fateful Thursday, I started planning. I planned my future. However, I needed to know how I was going to make it to that future.
And so first , like any girl would do, I looked to my favorite genes.
On both sides of my family, courageous, strong women have come before me. I'd like to use this blog to highlight just a few of them. Because, if you know them, you know me.
I must begin with my gramma. Her name was Thelma Pearl. She was born just before the Depression and was always tiny, therefore earning her the nickname, Tot. She grew up with very little and lost her mother when she was very young. Her step-mother, by today's standards, was abusive. As soon as she could, she fled Southern Illinois for Chicago. Once there, she met my gramps, married him, and started a family. She had a cackling, contagious laugh, the sweetest voice and softest hands I've ever felt. I miss her every day of my life.
Tot's older sister is my Aunt Dottie. Aunt Dottie vividly remembers the Depression, and speaks of how her father knew how to preserve fruit so they had enough to last through the winter. It was Dottie who brought Tot to Chicago and helped her get settled. In a time when it wasn't popular for women to learn trades, Dottie learned bookkeeping and made a living at it. She raised five intelligent, successful children on her own. Today, my Aunt Dottie is in her late 80's and can tell you a story from her life that would leave you mesmerized.
My Great Aunt Helen is my gramps' sister. She left her home in Chicago and raised a family in a small Nebraska town. She had her own business, in-home daycare. She once told me that sometimes she knew the parents couldn't pay, "and that was alright". Aunt Helen had five children, and not so many years ago, her oldest son passed away. And, still, Aunt Helen writes her letters, shares her stories, and smiles her gentle smile.
There's my mom, Nancy. Besides raising two exceptional daughters, she is the principal of an elementary school. When we were young, she went back to school and earned a master's degree. Then, she waited a long time until her glass ceiling cracked and she could be the boss. She stepped into her role with a zealousness and determination to be the best, and she has succeeded.
Recently, my cousin, Joyce, reminded me it has been seventeen years since she was diagnosed with colon cancer. She is a seventeen year survivor of the disease that frightens us all. She took hold of her life, and beat cancer because she knew she had a lot more living to do. Today, Joyce has five beautiful grandchildren that adore her.
There's my Aunt Judy, my godmother. She bought me my first (and only) pair of Jordache jeans. She does things like that, makes life, special. She made a list, either before she turned 50 or before she turned 60, of all the things she wanted to do before that age. A few people scoffed at this, but she went out there and rode a horse, for one! Last Easter, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. After surgery, she sat up in her bed and announced to everyone that she was going home. And, she did. Today, she is cancer free and enjoying life to the fullest.
Lastly, there is my sister, Kara. But Kara's story will have to wait. Because, talk about life kicking you square in the ass when you are already down...
These women, my genes, all possess similar qualities. They have survived heartache, meager times, turbulent periods in American history, oppression, and life-threatening disease. And they have done it with dignity. They never once complained, whined, or cried, "Woe is me".Their sadness never got in the way of their strife. Their determination to go on living was never lost. They simply, went on. With all this extraordinary family around you, you kind of have to.
So, when my calamitous time came, I studied my genes, wrapped myself in their comfort and went on. Just as the remarkable women before me have, and those after me, will do.
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