[I hope you don't mind my sharing this "story of my mom's life" here. Please be aware that these are my _memories_ and may or may not be entirely accurate. My apologies in advance if some this is not quite true and accept that we all allow some myth to embellish our memories.] My mother had a hard life, both entering it and leaving it. In between, though, she lived a full and fulfilling life. She accomplished much and had a great time doing it. It may be a cliche, but it is not trite that she got to see the "world." With little help along the way, she become an accomplished draftsman and a great cook, too. Somehow she managed to find the time to instill in us, her children, a critical eye and appreciation of the finer things of life -- art, food, cultures, people, ideas -- that was so much a part of her own unique life. As a child, Mom was often neglected, even abandoned, and only met her father 3 times. (I was alive for one of those meetings.) Blanche Green, a family friend, helped rescue her from a hard life and possible oblivion. Blanche (childless herself) was like a mother to my mom and a grandmother to me. [I grew up knowing her as Aunt Blanche. And Aunt Blanche lived her last years with my parents, first in Beloit and, later, in Appleton. She was "family" in every sense of the word if not in "blood."] Despite her humble beginnings and struggles, Mom managed to live her life with a zest and humor that few can equal. She taught herself how to be a GREAT (not just good) cook. She taught herself how to appreciate fine art (and she had a great eye for it). She learned to be an accomplished seamstress, making all kinds of clothes and "things." Had they allowed girls to play little league baseball back in the 40's she'd have been playing and probably been an MVP. She taught us, her children, to appreciate these same things and more. My Mom was a career woman before it was fashionable (late 70's) or necessary (90's). She blazed a trail for other women based only on her personal need to be self-reliant and self-fulfilling. She was the first true female draftsman at the Beloit Corp. [It's ironic that the Corp. should itself be dying at the time of her own death.] When she attended trade school in Beloit during the early 50's, at least one drafting teacher refused to acknowledge her presence in the classroom. If you ever wanted to get a rise out of my Mom, just refer to her as a "draftsperson." She often said, that she hadn't struggled through prejudice her entire working life just to have her accomplishments defined by some job title that never existed before. She'd worked hard to be a "draftsman" and that's what she was. It wasn't until the Civil Rights Act in the 60's that she received pay comparable to men in her department (even though she helped to train many of them). Every time she had one of us kids she had to start over as a new hire (maternity leave didn't exist in those days). She once took a leave of absence to help prevent the layoff of a male co-worker who was the sole bread-winner for his family. Two of us three kids were teenagers about then and she thought it was a good time to stay home for a year. The leave was "improperly" recorded as a "quit" so she wasn't vested (10 year vesting back then) and never received a pension for her well-over 20 years of employment at the Corp. She didn't learn of this until a few years ago when she tried to file for her pension. I remember that crazy Pig Roast on Columbine Drive in Garden Village. I remember the goofy "Flinstone" costumes she made for a Halloween Party in the 60's. (I don't remember it, but my brother says we ate round steak for a week so she could get enough of those little round bones to make a necklace for a costume.) I remember the smells of exotic dishes cooking in her kitchen. I remember sneaking peeks at the parties out on the patio or, from the landing of the stairs, in our living room while she and my father entertained guests from all over the world. I remember the wild Block Parties on Oak Street. I remember her getting my less-worldly friends to try shrimp cocktail, oysters, steak tartar and even more exotic dishes. I remember Thanksgivings and her awesome Turkey dinners with dazzlingly delicious dressing. I remember Christmas with varieties of homemade cookies and fudge. I remember News Years Eve and pots full of "little dogs and sauce" and bottles of champagne. I remember girl friends (and my wife) telling me how "neat" my mother was after they met her for the first time (and often many times after that). She was loved by all her daughters-in-law. She shared a lot of her knowledge with them and her grandchildren. Over the last few years, her life became an ever increasing struggle with the effects and complications of diabetes. She knew this was coming and how her life would end. She had no wish to linger or struggle; to be consigned to some less-than-real quasi-life. She is blessed now with a release from her pain and suffering. We, her family and friends, constitute part of an awesome legacy she bequeathed to this world and we are thankful for that. Let's not forget that she had a blast living her life -- she would want us to remember THAT part -- all the many good parts. We'll miss you, Mom. Trivia about my mom: Her great grandmother (or great-great - I always get this confused) was Cherokee and one of a lucky few children to survive the Trail of Tears tragedy in 1838. [see: http://rosecity.net/tears/trail/tearsnht.html for information on that tragedy of early US history.] *** "By the use of the language of sorrow, I had for the time being obliterated my sorrow--so powerful is the charm of words, which for us reduces to manageable entities all the passions that would otherwise madden and destroy us." - Gene Wolfe in The Shadow of the Torturer.