A Collection Stories About Or From The Moms Of The World

Archive for the month “October, 2011”

She Was A Widow At Forty-Six Years Old With Six Children

By Jeannine, Canada

I grew up in a family with five siblings. In total we had three girls and three boys. I was fifth youngest.

I remember the day so well, back in 1974. I was nine years old at the time. Mom was in the kitchen and had told me to go wake my father, as he was sleeping in well past the time he normally did. As I made my way to the bedroom, she must have realized something was wrong and ran past me, yelling at me to stay out. Too late, I saw his body lying on the bed. He had died of a brain aneurysm in his sleep. That day changed our family’s life. My mother’s most of all.

She was a widow at forty-six years old with six children, from age sixteen years all the way to seven years. She had no family close by, as she and my father had travelled across the country and settled in the west. I look back now and cannot imagine how my mother did what she did. She was a strong, determined woman with some very good friends who were her support when she needed it. My mother stayed out west for us. We were all still in school and this was our home. She was able to stay home on the pension that my father had and it wasn’t much. We children never once felt that we were struggling (though I am sure we did). She made sure we had a nice home, food on the table and dressed in clean clothes. And when we wanted the clothes that our friends wore, well, that is when we started the part-time jobs in order to have the luxuries that Mom could not afford. She made us all go to church (we were Catholic) and we had a curfew. Oh how I wish I had the understanding of what she did for us while I was growing up. It wasn’t until I was in my late twenties that I fully appreciated what my mother did for us all.

My mother died of leukemia in 2003. She was in an early stage of Alzheimer’s also and it was so sad to see a woman who had great knowledge, was witty and could hold a great conversation drop to the dark depths that Alzheimer’s produces.

There are times when I miss my mother so much. I picture her sitting at the kitchen table after dinner, with a cup of tea in her hand, having a conversation with whomever decided to stick around after dinner. To this day I think back and smile, as I was quite fortunate to have decided to stick around.

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Copyright Ark Stories 2011


My Mom by Ann Werner




Mom pictured: Mary Werner (1914-2007) with great grandson Hugo.

My mother was a first generation American, her parents having come to this country early in the twentieth century from Lithuania. They were dirt poor and what little they had was wiped out in the Great Depression.

 My mother, her brother and my grandparents lived in a two-room apartment in downtown Baltimore. Neither of my grandparents spoke English. My grandmother was illiterate and signed her name with an X. I don’t know about my grandfather. I never met him, as he died before I was born. With all of those disadvantages, there was no time for schooling. My mother had an eighth grade education. My uncle was sent off to the Jesuits after eighth grade and was educated to become a Jesuit Brother.
Although my mother wasn’t educated, she was an intelligent woman. She was also kind and always ready to help. I remember an Easter Sunday when my friend Donna walked over to meet me so we could walk to church together. She lived several blocks away and somehow, on the way over, her brand new Easter coat got caught on something and the pocket ripped away from the coat. Donna was hysterical, fearing her mother’s reaction. My mother took the situation firmly in hand. Before meeting my father, she had worked in a tailor’s shop—and there’s a funny story associated with that but I’ll save it for another time—so she knew just what to do. She got her sewing kit and found thread to match the beige coat and in no time flat, she repaired Donna’s coat perfectly. It was small but that was my mother. She did small things that made a big impact.
She and I didn’t always see eye to eye. What mother and daughter do? But I always knew I could go to her and she would tell me the truth. When I decided to leave Maryland and strike out for California and my ex-husband threw a fit and was angry that I would be taking our daughter across country with me, I went to her and asked if what I was planning was a mistake. My mother, who had no pioneering spirit whatsoever, looked me straight in the eye and said, “Ann, if you don’t go, you’ll always wonder what could have been. If you don’t like it, you can always come back.” Words of wisdom from a woman who would never have left her hometown but knew who I was and what I needed.
My mother passed away in 2007 and there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of her and remember what a wonderful mom she was and in so many ways, continues to be.
I miss her very much and I guess I always will.

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Copyright Ark Stories 2011

My Mom by Kimberley Johnson





Welcome to the newest ARK Stories project! Everything about mom!

Because I make Reality Books, people often throw subject ideas at me. In order to move forward with an idea, I need to “feel it.” I need to be moved. A friend recently suggested my next book/blog be about moms and daughters. I let the idea swim in my head for a while and talked with my mom about it and she really liked it but she added it should include sons. I agreed.

My relationship with my mom, Ann Werner is unique. We have talked about it and feel that we are soul mates. She raised me as a single mother since I was 3. We have always been a team. I have followed in many of her footsteps. She was in sales, I was in sales. She was an actress on Days Of Our Lives, I was an actress on Days Of Our Lives. She is an author and now I am one as well. It’s gets a little embarrassing for me. At times I have resisted and fought against it. Now that I am 43 and we are in the business of making books together, I have surrendered to the fact that my mom and I are a team and always will be.

Sometimes I worry that because we are so close, I won’t know how to carry on when her time is up. She tries to talk to me about her will and I do everything short of sticking my fingers in my ears and screaming “LA LA LA LA LA LA!!!” I know that I must trust that what she has given me over all these years will provide the strength I’ll need when that time comes. Hopefully though, she’ll keep up the long life span of the females on her side of the family.

I will share things about our relationship from time to time on this blog.

My first story is from when I was 18 years old. I had a boyfriend who I was in love with. Against her better judgement but with her permission, he and I went on a camping trip with a group of friends. The trip was a ridiculous one and a story in and of itself. When it was all over and I came home, I knew I would be met with a bit of a sour attitude.

Boy, was I right! She had come home from work and looked angry. I tried to be upbeat and asked her how her day was. Her reply was: “Do you want to know what humiliation is?” Frankly, NO, I didn’t. I wanted to run away and hide. She continued “Humiliation is when your neighbor tells you that your daughter’s boyfriend sneaks in her bedroom window at night!” OUCH!!! My secret was out! Stupid, nosey neighbor!!

My boyfriend stayed away for about a week and she got over it. We have always been very open with each other and even though we can fight and bitch at each other, we have a strong and special bond. I am glad I got her as a mom. She is my strength and my inspiration!!!

So, this is where I welcome you to visit the guidelines on this page to see how you can submit your story.
I want to hear from moms as well as sons and daughters. I am excited. I think this will be a fun journey and I can’t wait to read all the stories that will come in!

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Copyright Ark Stories 2011

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