Barb and Me

My mother died at 94 just as I was finishing this tale. She had been widowed for 32 years, my dad having only made it slightly past 60 when his health failed for good. She worked as a nurse until she was 75 and didn’t stop gambling at the casino until the very end of her life. She lived with one sister of mine or the other for the last 10 years of her life and often felt useless as her mobility waned.

Barb at Janene's wedding in 2018

We always saw her as full of life, but she often could not be convinced. Utility, after all, was the purpose of her life.

She kept answering my questions about her father right up until the end, even though I could tell it frequently annoyed her. She was still angry at Fay for his slights when she was young, but she never cut him off and he was always a part of our lives. She was so much like him - hard working, full of laughter and fun, always game for an adventure.

Unlike Fay, Barb was also reliable and that made her a really great mother and nurse. She, too, was not perfect, but she was always kind of amazing.

Barb outlived everyone in her family and she often felt that loneliness. The women, of course, lived the longest. Thelma lived until she was 92 having spent 11 years on her own after Keith died. My Aunt Shirley made it to 86 living nearly 17 years without Uncle Bill. Keith and Thelma’s son Butch died of the same cancer that took Keith when he was only 72.

Barb, Shirley and Thelma 1995

Each of these folks, including Mabel and Lew, put their stamp on my mother. You could see Mabel’s rigidness from time to time, but also Lew’s kindness, as well as his love of drink. Thelma’s unshakeable belief in hard work and her petty concern for how she was perceived. Shirley’s neediness and intense loyalty. And Fay’s joie de vivre, his love of a good laugh and his skill on the dance floor.

All of these traits showed up in my mother.

Tricia, Beki, Janene, Jerry, Michelle 2011

And then again in all of Barb's children.

I’ve been asked many times what compelled me to share this story. I grew up pouring over the family scrapbooks and photo albums, being taken away to a world that was colorful and dramatic. Fay and Barb’s lives were just like the movies they both loved so much, full of intrigue and danger and forbidden loves.

Maybe that was by design, maybe it was how the tales were spun. Regardless, their stories have held our entire family in thrall for decades, and now I’ve shared them with you.

But as good as the tales are about these rather ordinary people, the telling of this story became larger along the way. Although I started work on this tale a decade before my mother died, I had no idea that this is really a story about her. Through it I came to understand that I wanted to know what formed her and then, in turn, how she formed me.

How do you finally pay tribute to your mother without being ridiculous? If you’re from my family, you tell someone else’s story that is also your mother’s story. It’s less direct that way, not quite so emotional. I loved Fay for being fun and joyful; I loved my mother for all of that and everything else and so much more.

So in the end, this is a love story for my mother for the stories she told and the life she lived. I hope this is big enough for her, because she deserves something pretty big.