Honoring the Unofficial Rosie Riveters

I just finished watching a Today Show segment honoring Rosie the Riveters.  It started me thinking about what my mother and grandmother did during those years.  I’ll start first with my mother.  My father had basically kicked her and their 3 year old daughter (me), out of the home so he could continue his affair with our married landlady.  (Another story for another time.)  Mother, an only child, and I moved in with her parents. 

My grandfather was one of the first automotive mechanics sent by their Car Dealer employers to be trained in Detroit by the automotive pioneers, teaching them the how to take care of and repair the motors and other working parts.  Until about 20 years ago, I thought my grandmother was simply “a homemaker.”  But more about that later.

(I realize this next part seems very hostile, but I need to include it to explain the rest of this history.  It is the truth, even though it is ugly.)  My other grandparents never helped us.  It was the other way around, with my mother and me supporting them the rest of their lives even though my dad’s mother openly and publicly blamed me (remember my age?) for the breakup of the marriage.  Even though, he was also an only child, he disappeared from all of our lives a couple of years following their divorce.  He reappeared 35 years later after both his parents were dead.  He told me he never got in touch with them because he had overheard them talking when he was young; they were discussing the possibility of giving him away.  They were in their late 30s when he was born.  They never owned any property and my grandfather never held a full-time job.  He would do house painting on occasions when someone asked him to help them.  His mother occasionally did quilting for others.   In other words, they did not have sufficient income to live on or take care of him, but he thought they did not want him.  (Sadly, he may have been partially right because they never exhibited much concern for others.  They rarely lived in the same place more than six months because one or the other of them would get into a quarrel with a neighbor.) 
 
Since my father had no intention of supporting us (he paid a total of $20.00 child support over the next 15 years and no alimony), Mother had to go to work.  She found a job in the Merit Clothing Company, starting at an elevated pay of $0.50 an hour.  The other factory employees were only making about half that, but Mother had experience in all areas as a seamstress.  Since it was wartime, their main product was uniforms for the soldiers.  Most times she worked six days a week and ten hours a day.  Now, I’m sure you are thinking “How in the world did she take care of a home and child?”  Well, she couldn’t.  My grandmother quit her job as a “repair lady” in an alterations shop so she could stay home and care for me and the home.  I did not know about her career until many, many years later and only then because when her former boss died, the employer’s family talked about how sad she was that she had failed in her efforts to keep my grandmother as an employee - even to the point of offering her the position of Manager of the business.  They said my grandmother’s response was “My daughter needs to work worse than I do, and for her to be able to do that my granddaughter needs me to be at home with her.”

During those early years, and until the after the end of World War II, there were many weeks when I did not see my mother from Sunday to Sunday.  Of course, my grandmother was always there.  She continued to work as a seamstress and do alterations, but did it in the home.   I knew in my head who was the parent and who were the grandparents, but my heart did not agree with my head knowledge.  Mother knew this, always accepted that fact, and explained it to others.

Both of these ladies took up the call to help the war effort by what they did.  They may not have been official “Rosie the Riveters,” but they qualify in my eyes. 

Women today are blessed, or cursed, however you view it, by what the women in the early 1940s were willing to do when the “boys and men” left their families and jobs behind.  Life for them, and the women following them,  was never the same.  The world learned what women are capable and willing to do, and it isn’t just cooking, cleaning, and raising families! 

Feeling Things Just Aren't Right

I awoke this morning with that “sense of things not being right” and began reviewing events from yesterday.  The previous 24 hour period was loaded with unwanted and unpleasant news.

First, my friend’s cousin had fallen for the umpteenth time and was having trouble breathing so she was taken to the ER.  Her falls are a result of MS and Parkinsons.  Her condition is getting more aggressive.  After X-rays, and determination of more cracked ribs, she was sent back home.

Second, my pastor, who has been experiencing severe back pain and had gotten less than good blood work,  was waiting for a diagnosis from the doctor when he received word one of his sisters had been taken to the hospital in Memphis and was “at the point of death” from kidney failure and a massive heart attack.  (Next day - Got the information his sister died last night about 8:00.)   He was only a couple of hours away from his doctor appointment in Paducah.  When he and his wife met with the doctor, the news was anything but what we all wanted to hear - Stage 3 Multiple Myeloma.  His treatment will be in Little Rock, Arkansas, in a hospital that is rated the best in the country for this disease.  We are all scrambling to help him as he awaits for arrangements to be made.

Third, my friend got another call, but this was about another one of her former co-workers and dear friend who has been dealing with serious heart trouble for years.  Her specialist is in Nashville and three of them take turns driving her for her frequent appointments.  This time, fortunately, her husband was the one to take her because during the appointment the doctor discovered her heart was not getting enough blood flow and she was immediately taken to ICU, where she remains this morning.  The outlook for her does not look positive.  Last night, the prognosis was very grim, saying she probably would not survive.  Thankfully, she is a very strong Christian, but none of us are ready to let her go yet.

Lastly, (and this is about me), while I was sitting thinking about all these things, plus another situation involving a friend of my son-in-love who was placed in harms way in his job and was forced to shoot and kill an attacker a few days ago, I was reading the posts on Facebook.  One of them was from a woman who still has most of her childhood friends living close by.  They get together often, take trips together, and have slumber parties, even though most of them are married.  I must admit - I am jealous. 

At least half of my childhood friends have died; the others do not live close and we rarely are in contact and that’s through Facebook.  Not having any siblings, experiencing the deaths of both parents, all grandparents, and my husband, I feel a lot of the time, completely all alone.  My son and daughter, and their children, have their own lives - as it should be.  I have made a few good friends the last few years, but it is just not the same as having someone who has known me most of my life.  There is no one to share memories with.  Being an only child of two people who were also an only child has made me very independent, and people have told me that admire that trait in me.  But - there are times when I wish I weren’t.  Sometimes I just need friends to lean on.  Sometimes -----

Some Old Person?

Have you seen the commercial where the woman says “That’s not for me.  That’s for some old person”?  Well, that was my first reaction when asked about doing something for another blog  - one for the population into their "third age".  But then I remembered, according to the calendar, I AM an old person. 

I don’t feel like an old person - at least most of the time.  When I look in the mirror or when I try to do something physical that years ago would have been a no-brainer, I am stunned that I am no longer part of the younger generation.

My generation has been blessed with medical science’s findings that our body can stay strong into the older years simply by being physically active, and our minds can stay sharp by doing puzzles.  In other words, to quote a saying we have heard for years - “use it or lose it.”   Because of their discovery, many people now remain active, vital, and useful well into their 80s and 90s. Willard Scott stays busy announcing birthdays for people who are in their 100s. 

For years I’ve heard the title “Sandwich Generation” applied to my age group.  I understand that, but I would like to change that to “Club Sandwich Generation.”   My 92½ year-old mother (isn’t it amazing that as we get up into those higher number years we return to the childlike behavior of adding fractions to our age?) is still up and going with very little help.   I do her shopping and drive her anywhere she needs to be (i.e. doctor appointments and church) plus some things she just wants to do.  I also want to be able to spend time with my children, grandchildren, and now a brand-new great-grandson.  The fact that I must divide my time between what I want to do and what I need to do, keeps me constantly on the move.  I honestly believe I am busier now than I was when I was younger.  Then I was stressed because I thought I was too busy. 

True, at times things seem overwhelming, but I am thankful that God has given me the stamina and ability to handle the responsibilities I have and also be able to include the things I enjoy in my daily routine.  For the most part I am still healthy, still interested in a lot of things, and have enough resources to not be dependent on someone else - yet.  One of these days I may be that “old person” who needs safety equipment to alert others when I need help.  For now - well, “That’s for some (other) old person.”

THANKFUL FOR ONE OF THOSE IRRITATING BLESSINGS

There is nothing quite like being startled out of your early morning slumber by the sound of the smoke alarm going off - three shrill beeps.  Don’t get me wrong; I”m thankful it works and alerted me to a possible danger.  The problem is, I could find nothing that caused the alert.

I should not have been surprised because a couple of weeks ago during a thunderstorm, it did a little “beep”.  I am convinced that was triggered by a lightening strike somewhere.  That has happened in the past.  It also does that when the filter for the furnace gets dirty, and I knew it was time to get the chair, climb up, and change that again.   I must admit it has been a too long since I have done that task. 

I got up, puttered around, and an hour later, the alarm went off again; this time it was a continual beeping.   I finally climbed up in a chair and removed the battery. 

Now - I must remember to get a new battery today when I’m at the store because this one was due to be replaced anyway.  In the meantime I’ll keep a vigilant watch and smell going, thankful for the blessing of being irritated and somewhat protected by the shrill sound of the smoke and carbon monoxide alarm.