Jeff—Saturday
It’s strange how these days of quarantine have us musing
over matters we once rarely thought of at all, and even then only in passing.
Tomorrow is Mother’s Day, and having been without a mother for nearly
twenty-five years, or married to one (until this year :)) for far longer, I’ve
largely forgotten all about the significance of the day—just ask my daughter or
daughter-in-law.
This year, though, as I sat down to write my blog for the
week, I found myself thinking of my mother, and all she’d been through as a
child of immigrant parents; born in the final year of the Spanish Flu Pandemic,
growing up through the Great Depression, and living through World War II. How very different her life experiences had
to have been from those of her three sons.
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| Spanish Flu Emergency Hospital in Pennsylvania |
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| Pittsburgh Unemployment Line |
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| Old time Pittsburgh Steel Mill |
With Covid-19 and Depression Era unemployment upon us, I’ve
been wondering how what we’re going through these days might re-shape the lives
of my grandchildren in the same manner as what my mother experienced in her
formative years altered her approach to life.
That’s when I remembered the thank you message I’d written
to the many who’d attended my mother’s funeral. I don’t know why I wrote it—I’d
no intention of becoming a writer back then—but I felt that I should as a
tribute to a glorious soul who’d weathered so much with grace, charm and a deep
love for all.
Reading it again gave me great comfort, for it reminded me
that, no matter how harsh the times, beautiful souls surrounded by love and
familial support shall prevail.
So, thank you, Mom, for all the sacrifices you endured to
make me the man I am today. I’ll leave
it to others to decide whether that was a good or bad achievement. J
I love you mom. We all do.
THELMA SIGER (1919‑1996)
My mother never knew how to be anything but nice to everyone
she ever met. She never thought it was
anything special to be that way, she figured it was just part of who she was ‑‑‑
much like flames at night along the river just seemed to be part of the mill‑town
skies of the Pittsburgh of her youth.
But she was special, extraordinarily special.
Mother wasn't much on words (except when delivered to one or
more of her sons on certain deserved occasions at equally appropriate decibel
levels), but boy was she ever big on deeds.
Mother was always there with an embracing heart, steel will and much
more for anyone who ever needed her; and heaven protect you if you said one
unkind word about any soul in her protection.
Mother's last years were not kind to her. Those of us who knew her and loved her didn't
really question God's hand in this, because she would not have wanted us
to. Rather, we prayed she would not be
in pain, and in our separate ways thought we were preparing ourselves to accept
her passing. But that was something we
could never do; no more than we could prepare ourselves for the ending of
warmth. As long as there remained one
sweet ember of her life we felt the warmth of her soul still with us. Now gone, I can no longer feel, only remember. That makes me very sad and I miss her very
much.
But life goes on, and armed with the knowledge that no one
could ever have had a better mother I'll just try to do what is necessary to
make her proud. After all, when I get to
see her and my dad again (assuming they'll be able to convince whoever is in
charge to let me in), I want her to know that I tried my best to live my life
following her teaching that unquestioning loyalty among family and friends is a
treasure beyond value. That's why this
thank you is for more than just your kindness in mother's memory, it is for
your friendship and love. Thanks.
—Jeff
