Sepia Saturday - Mother

I've posted my Father and miscellaneous other old photographs, but today I want to introduce you to my Mother.  She was a beautiful person who lived her entire life providing unconditional love to her children.  She married at the age of 16 to my Father who was 11 years older.  She gave birth to her first child, my Brother (pictured here).  I was born 4 years later.  To me she was always beautiful although she suffered from what was known as "nerves" back in the day.  Today there would be medical help for the suffering she experienced.  My Mother died unexpectedly on Mother's Day (May 12, 1985).  My grief is as raw today as the day I received the call.  So many things left unsaid and so many lessons I had yet to learn from her.  She deserves Heaven, but I miss her so.  So, today is my tribute to a Mother who was My Best Friend.  Her heritage was Welsh, English and American Indian.  She was dark and very beautiful.  Her black eyes have revisited us in our Granddaughter, Sophia.

Mother with my Brother and holding ME.  This is the only baby picture of me.  I was born at the end of WWII and money was scarce for my family.  I regret this photo is blurred, but it is very special to me.

My Mother and Me.  Nothing much to say here, except I didn't inherit her height (5'8") or her beauty.

During my growing up years there used to be a t.v. show starring Lorretta Young.  I always thought my Mother resembled Ms. Young.

I believe someone mentioned scarfs in a blog posting a while back.  My Mother never left home without one during the fall and winter months.  During winter when our home was far from warm, she might wear one inside as well.  On her it worked, I never much cared for them myself.

I inherited from my Father's gene pool and while I'm not unhappy with Me, I do sometimes long to be more like my Mother.  This year marks the 25th since I lost her.

Nostalgia, Old Photos & Memories...

Several of the blogs I follow have been posting old family photos and memorabilia.  I must admit I enjoy following the lives of those who came before us.  So, I thought I would share a bit of my family today.

The first is of my Mother and me.  She was of Welsh, English and American Indian descent, with very black eyes, dark complexion and dark hair.  I always thought of her as very beautiful.  This came not only from her appearance but also from her heart.  Of course, that's me with her.  In case you can't tell, my father was Austrian and both my brother and I were blessed with blonde hair, blue eyes and fair skin.  So much for the darker genes being dominant.

This one is of my Brother, Mother and me.  The broken leg was compliments of my green broke mare.  Did I mention I grew up in Sidney, Iowa?  At that time it was home of the third largest outdoor rodeo in the U.S.  Horses were a big part of my life.  The little black dog at our feet was my Cocoa.  She was such a faithful dog.  Our town was the county seat of Fremont County and the courthouse sat in the center of the town square.  The library was in the basement of the courthouse and there were doors at both ends of the building.  One day I walked uptown and went to the library.  Later that night we couldn't find Cocoa.  We searched the neighborhood and everyone was upset.  Finally my brother went up town and found her waiting at the courthouse door in the dark.  I had gone in one door and out the other.  She was not going to leave until I came out.  That's dedication!

This is my Father, John Sober Hummel.  He is a story for another time.  He was a kind, honest and decent man.  He worked hard, took care of his family and was someone people were honored to have as a friend.  Most of who I am was imparted by my Father and his simple lessons in life.  He taught me the Psalms although he didn't attend church.  He loved poetry, especially Robert Frost.  He insisted on responsibility in his children, 'If you make your bed, you will lie in it' is one of the many lessons that remain with me to this day.  He worked hard and complained very little.

Below is his christening photo.  He was born in 1912.

This is my Great Grandfather and Grandmother (no, I don't know their given names).  The younger man is one of my Grandfather's brothers with his wife and child.  I recall the story told by my Father about one of the babies being pricked by a needle that was tucked into its mother's lapel.  The baby contracted an infection from the prick and died.  I don't know if this is the baby he referred to or not.  A sad story.

Finally, this is my Mother's Mother, Sylvia Grey Pierson.  She was a wonderful person who was a big part of my growing up years.  The little lapel watch she has on I have.  It's the only thing I have to remember her by except for all the wonderful things she did for me as a child.

Well, that's it for today.  There are so many more, but I don't want to bore you.  I was blessed with a wonderful family that, I'm sure, by today's standards would be deemed to be flawed.  My Grandmother Pierson and my Great Grandmother Grey were both divorced.  Back then that wasn't something that happened too often.  Guess I come from a gene pool of strong-willed women.  My Grandmother raised eight children on her own without any assistance from their father.  And today, we females feel put upon because we have to work outside the home.  Just imagine, making a home for eight kids while you worked in cafes and took in laundry to put food on the table and to clothe them.  No public assistance back then!