My beautiful mother- she was born to Perry Colyer Smith and Emily Jane Hume Smith on May 10, 1934. She was the 6th child in a family of 8 children. Her brother, George, was born 3 years before her but died of SIDS. She and younger sister, Herthia, used to get into trouble together in Huntington, WV. Times were different then and young children roamed freely. When they were 6 & 4 years old, they set fire to a field to watch the horses jump over a fence because they thought it beautiful & graceful to watch. Another time they talked baby sister, Maude, into throwing a brick through the candy store window. But it wasn't all mischief. One time Mom brought home an adorable little kitten. She cried her heart out when her mother made the brothers take the kitten back to where Mom had found it. Grandma was terrified that the mother cat would come looking for her kitten because she had heard that this is what mountain lions do. These are the stories Mom told me. I can only imagine that there were some she left out.
My mother was different; different from her family; different for her time; different from the world. And to be different is to pay a heavy price.
Childhood was idyllic, roaming freely with lots of other children to play with, but then her teen years came, bringing with them the realization that you must fit in and can no longer 'roam freely'. You must keep your mouth shut and act 'ladylike'. Mom was outspoken, a go-getter, a fighter. She suddenly realized that her nose was bigger than the other three sisters, her hair thin and scraggly compared to their thick wavy locks, her hands and feet seemed too big for her body, her eyelashes too short. So she started a lifetime commitment of having to always put forth more effort. She got a job at 14 and bought herself "beautiful clothes", thus becoming the envy of other girls.
When Mom was 16, the family (now consisting of the 3 youngest girls) moved to New Orleans. There she met the brother of her high school friend-my Dad. Consequently they married and Mom gave birth to a baby girl....then another....then another....then another. No sons. She was a complete failure as a wife, a mother, and a woman according to society. She must produce a male to carry on the family name. Meanwhile, my father took care of the problem by impregnating one of his girlfriends. He had finally graduated college with my Mother's financial and emotional support and it was her turn to stay home with her babies. She had resigned her position and was delighted to become a full time wife and mother. But my father filed for divorce to marry his girlfriend. He left Mom with nothing but debt, his last name, and four children as a souvenir of their marriage. Friends and family turned their backs on her; this divorcee, this failure. Mom took a part-time job at the department store close to home so that she could raise and provide for her children. It was hard. The phone was shut off, she had no car, the air-conditioning needed replaced and she had to hire a lawyer for the divorce. The lawyer told her that "yes, he could take the lawn mower to cut his girlfriend's grass because he owns half of everything. Yes, house too". So Mom came home, went to the garage, grabbed an axe and a chair and proceeded to try and chop the house in two. People came and took mother away and her children went to stay with different relatives. They said that Mom had suffered "a nervous breakdown". When she was released months later, she was never the same. Her eyes were dull, she had the demeanor of someone who had been broken, crushed, had her spirit ripped right out of her. And she had. Overnight her world had shattered and she discovered that no amount of effort or compensating for your imperfections was good enough. She was shunned by all, especially now that she was "crazy". She spent about a year on the sofa depressed and medicated. Then one day she came back, more outspoken, a bigger fighter. She took pride in her girls, now holding her head high. She got an accounting job, a job usually reserved for men back then, riding the bus into town every day. She taught her girls to smile, laugh, and stand up for themselves. She taught them to never let anyone think that they were better than you nor you them, all the while loving her children unconditionally, as she had never been loved-until her children. She had a beautiful singing voice and sang Folk songs to her children and grandchildren, these same songs now being taught to her great-grandchildren. My mother was a success! A much bigger success than those who had shunned her.
Mom loved emerald green, Neil Diamond, cornbread in a glass, hydrangeas, lily of the valley, Bob Ross the painter, and coffee. Lots of coffee! Lord, thank you for lending me your angel that I call Mother. Treat her very well-she has already been to hell.
My mother was different; different from her family; different for her time; different from the world. And to be different is to pay a heavy price.
Childhood was idyllic, roaming freely with lots of other children to play with, but then her teen years came, bringing with them the realization that you must fit in and can no longer 'roam freely'. You must keep your mouth shut and act 'ladylike'. Mom was outspoken, a go-getter, a fighter. She suddenly realized that her nose was bigger than the other three sisters, her hair thin and scraggly compared to their thick wavy locks, her hands and feet seemed too big for her body, her eyelashes too short. So she started a lifetime commitment of having to always put forth more effort. She got a job at 14 and bought herself "beautiful clothes", thus becoming the envy of other girls.
When Mom was 16, the family (now consisting of the 3 youngest girls) moved to New Orleans. There she met the brother of her high school friend-my Dad. Consequently they married and Mom gave birth to a baby girl....then another....then another....then another. No sons. She was a complete failure as a wife, a mother, and a woman according to society. She must produce a male to carry on the family name. Meanwhile, my father took care of the problem by impregnating one of his girlfriends. He had finally graduated college with my Mother's financial and emotional support and it was her turn to stay home with her babies. She had resigned her position and was delighted to become a full time wife and mother. But my father filed for divorce to marry his girlfriend. He left Mom with nothing but debt, his last name, and four children as a souvenir of their marriage. Friends and family turned their backs on her; this divorcee, this failure. Mom took a part-time job at the department store close to home so that she could raise and provide for her children. It was hard. The phone was shut off, she had no car, the air-conditioning needed replaced and she had to hire a lawyer for the divorce. The lawyer told her that "yes, he could take the lawn mower to cut his girlfriend's grass because he owns half of everything. Yes, house too". So Mom came home, went to the garage, grabbed an axe and a chair and proceeded to try and chop the house in two. People came and took mother away and her children went to stay with different relatives. They said that Mom had suffered "a nervous breakdown". When she was released months later, she was never the same. Her eyes were dull, she had the demeanor of someone who had been broken, crushed, had her spirit ripped right out of her. And she had. Overnight her world had shattered and she discovered that no amount of effort or compensating for your imperfections was good enough. She was shunned by all, especially now that she was "crazy". She spent about a year on the sofa depressed and medicated. Then one day she came back, more outspoken, a bigger fighter. She took pride in her girls, now holding her head high. She got an accounting job, a job usually reserved for men back then, riding the bus into town every day. She taught her girls to smile, laugh, and stand up for themselves. She taught them to never let anyone think that they were better than you nor you them, all the while loving her children unconditionally, as she had never been loved-until her children. She had a beautiful singing voice and sang Folk songs to her children and grandchildren, these same songs now being taught to her great-grandchildren. My mother was a success! A much bigger success than those who had shunned her.
Mom loved emerald green, Neil Diamond, cornbread in a glass, hydrangeas, lily of the valley, Bob Ross the painter, and coffee. Lots of coffee! Lord, thank you for lending me your angel that I call Mother. Treat her very well-she has already been to hell.
My beautiful mother- she was born to Perry Colyer Smith and Emily Jane Hume Smith on May 10, 1934. She was the 6th child in a family of 8 children. Her brother, George, was born 3 years before her but died of SIDS. She and younger sister, Herthia, used to get into trouble together in Huntington, WV. Times were different then and young children roamed freely. When they were 6 & 4 years old, they set fire to a field to watch the horses jump over a fence because they thought it beautiful & graceful to watch. Another time they talked baby sister, Maude, into throwing a brick through the candy store window. But it wasn't all mischief. One time Mom brought home an adorable little kitten. She cried her heart out when her mother made the brothers take the kitten back to where Mom had found it. Grandma was terrified that the mother cat would come looking for her kitten because she had heard that this is what mountain lions do. These are the stories Mom told me. I can only imagine that there were some she left out.
My mother was different; different from her family; different for her time; different from the world. And to be different is to pay a heavy price.
Childhood was idyllic, roaming freely with lots of other children to play with, but then her teen years came, bringing with them the realization that you must fit in and can no longer 'roam freely'. You must keep your mouth shut and act 'ladylike'. Mom was outspoken, a go-getter, a fighter. She suddenly realized that her nose was bigger than the other three sisters, her hair thin and scraggly compared to their thick wavy locks, her hands and feet seemed too big for her body, her eyelashes too short. So she started a lifetime commitment of having to always put forth more effort. She got a job at 14 and bought herself "beautiful clothes", thus becoming the envy of other girls.
When Mom was 16, the family (now consisting of the 3 youngest girls) moved to New Orleans. There she met the brother of her high school friend-my Dad. Consequently they married and Mom gave birth to a baby girl....then another....then another....then another. No sons. She was a complete failure as a wife, a mother, and a woman according to society. She must produce a male to carry on the family name. Meanwhile, my father took care of the problem by impregnating one of his girlfriends. He had finally graduated college with my Mother's financial and emotional support and it was her turn to stay home with her babies. She had resigned her position and was delighted to become a full time wife and mother. But my father filed for divorce to marry his girlfriend. He left Mom with nothing but debt, his last name, and four children as a souvenir of their marriage. Friends and family turned their backs on her; this divorcee, this failure. Mom took a part-time job at the department store close to home so that she could raise and provide for her children. It was hard. The phone was shut off, she had no car, the air-conditioning needed replaced and she had to hire a lawyer for the divorce. The lawyer told her that "yes, he could take the lawn mower to cut his girlfriend's grass because he owns half of everything. Yes, house too". So Mom came home, went to the garage, grabbed an axe and a chair and proceeded to try and chop the house in two. People came and took mother away and her children went to stay with different relatives. They said that Mom had suffered "a nervous breakdown". When she was released months later, she was never the same. Her eyes were dull, she had the demeanor of someone who had been broken, crushed, had her spirit ripped right out of her. And she had. Overnight her world had shattered and she discovered that no amount of effort or compensating for your imperfections was good enough. She was shunned by all, especially now that she was "crazy". She spent about a year on the sofa depressed and medicated. Then one day she came back, more outspoken, a bigger fighter. She took pride in her girls, now holding her head high. She got an accounting job, a job usually reserved for men back then, riding the bus into town every day. She taught her girls to smile, laugh, and stand up for themselves. She taught them to never let anyone think that they were better than you nor you them, all the while loving her children unconditionally, as she had never been loved-until her children. She had a beautiful singing voice and sang Folk songs to her children and grandchildren, these same songs now being taught to her great-grandchildren. My mother was a success! A much bigger success than those who had shunned her.
Mom loved emerald green, Neil Diamond, cornbread in a glass, hydrangeas, lily of the valley, Bob Ross the painter, and coffee. Lots of coffee! Lord, thank you for lending me your angel that I call Mother. Treat her very well-she has already been to hell.
My mother was different; different from her family; different for her time; different from the world. And to be different is to pay a heavy price.
Childhood was idyllic, roaming freely with lots of other children to play with, but then her teen years came, bringing with them the realization that you must fit in and can no longer 'roam freely'. You must keep your mouth shut and act 'ladylike'. Mom was outspoken, a go-getter, a fighter. She suddenly realized that her nose was bigger than the other three sisters, her hair thin and scraggly compared to their thick wavy locks, her hands and feet seemed too big for her body, her eyelashes too short. So she started a lifetime commitment of having to always put forth more effort. She got a job at 14 and bought herself "beautiful clothes", thus becoming the envy of other girls.
When Mom was 16, the family (now consisting of the 3 youngest girls) moved to New Orleans. There she met the brother of her high school friend-my Dad. Consequently they married and Mom gave birth to a baby girl....then another....then another....then another. No sons. She was a complete failure as a wife, a mother, and a woman according to society. She must produce a male to carry on the family name. Meanwhile, my father took care of the problem by impregnating one of his girlfriends. He had finally graduated college with my Mother's financial and emotional support and it was her turn to stay home with her babies. She had resigned her position and was delighted to become a full time wife and mother. But my father filed for divorce to marry his girlfriend. He left Mom with nothing but debt, his last name, and four children as a souvenir of their marriage. Friends and family turned their backs on her; this divorcee, this failure. Mom took a part-time job at the department store close to home so that she could raise and provide for her children. It was hard. The phone was shut off, she had no car, the air-conditioning needed replaced and she had to hire a lawyer for the divorce. The lawyer told her that "yes, he could take the lawn mower to cut his girlfriend's grass because he owns half of everything. Yes, house too". So Mom came home, went to the garage, grabbed an axe and a chair and proceeded to try and chop the house in two. People came and took mother away and her children went to stay with different relatives. They said that Mom had suffered "a nervous breakdown". When she was released months later, she was never the same. Her eyes were dull, she had the demeanor of someone who had been broken, crushed, had her spirit ripped right out of her. And she had. Overnight her world had shattered and she discovered that no amount of effort or compensating for your imperfections was good enough. She was shunned by all, especially now that she was "crazy". She spent about a year on the sofa depressed and medicated. Then one day she came back, more outspoken, a bigger fighter. She took pride in her girls, now holding her head high. She got an accounting job, a job usually reserved for men back then, riding the bus into town every day. She taught her girls to smile, laugh, and stand up for themselves. She taught them to never let anyone think that they were better than you nor you them, all the while loving her children unconditionally, as she had never been loved-until her children. She had a beautiful singing voice and sang Folk songs to her children and grandchildren, these same songs now being taught to her great-grandchildren. My mother was a success! A much bigger success than those who had shunned her.
Mom loved emerald green, Neil Diamond, cornbread in a glass, hydrangeas, lily of the valley, Bob Ross the painter, and coffee. Lots of coffee! Lord, thank you for lending me your angel that I call Mother. Treat her very well-she has already been to hell.
Family Members
Siblings
Children
