Beautifully written, Diane. We also were very poor when I was in seventh-grade, and I still remember those junior-high years as a sort of hell on earth. My mom was 30 years old with four kids, and moments of maternal insight were understandably rare. Thanks for sharing this sweet memory with us.
Indeed, you were, Diane. As the first child, I was the only one who had stories read to me as a toddler by Mom. Having 4 kids in 5 years left her no time for such "luxuries." The flip side, of course. was that I was expected from an early age to be the responsible role model.
I love your mom-to-the-rescue memory! What a wonderful way to sooth your concern, teaching lessons to you and hopefully your friend! Thank you for this... just the pictures of brown boxes touched my heart. ❤️
Thank you, Joan. You’re very kin! If you subscribe to my Substack and go back several posts, you’ll get even a better picture of how he survived my father’s suicide. He was a WWII Navy vet laid off in 1955 from a local company.
I read both parts and just wow! Your mom didn’t know how to handle anything then…no one does.
My heart hurts for young you crying and sad but not getting the family support like you’d get in today’s world. I’m so sorry you list both parents so young… but the happy early memories you have sustain you. Sharing such a personal, raw story helped a bit, do you think? Your sweet mom did her best and it shows in the sweet, caring person you’ve become..always cheering on others. Thank you for pointing me to these precious stories. Hugs.
❤️Thanks, Joan, for reading the stories. What I may not have said was that I had a happy childhood outdoors and my mother was a great actress keeping the brutal facts of what happened until I was old enough to understand it. We stayed with my grandparents for 3 months after my father died before returning to our house. So, I was blessed to be protected.
Yes, I see that now; also needing herself to heal before telling and giving you comfort! I pictured you left on your own to be outside...not given support. But they did support and protect till time was right. Thanks for clarifying.
I can feel the love...you miss her so! 🥰 Love that you gardened together! 🌺🌷🌻🌳🌿🌱🪴BTW... check out the 1000 hours outside challenge (FB and IG) for next year...I’ve been doing it this year... barely gonna make 500. 😂 If you love nature/being outdoors, it’s great fun to keep the chart, take the pics! 😊❤️
Thanks so much for sharing! My mom thought poverty was shameful, in itself - but I somehow always felt that, rich or poor, the most important thing in a family was love, kindness, heart - I actually wish she had been able to really feel that, too :)
Thanks for your comment. Every family is different. My grandparents lived through the depression, and they were pretty dour. My mother went the opposite way and I thank God she got me off to the right start not feeling sorry for myself. Today I think many people who help the poor with food and clothing are pretty special saints.
The gifts of time and love outweigh all other gifts. I believe that statement with all my heart, but functioning there was impossible until I accepted it is not my responsibility to have others see that as true. However, living with that centrality brings joy.
We're not rich, we're not poor. We can enjoy some of life's little things. My son though is exposed to the world of the rich because his friends are wealthy. I noticed that he lost some of that grateful heart he had as a child when he entered his friends' world. Sometimes, I see that he is quite ashamed of what we have, compared to what he sees outside our home. I keep reminding him of the power of gratitude but I guess I just have to let him be? I have to be understanding like your mom?He'll figure it out on his own? I hope so.
Diane - I was in a very similar situation- my Daddy passed away when I was 12. The difference between us? Mother was not loving and understanding. The way I felt embarrassed was when I was at my maternal grandmother’s house. She lived in a very small house, with chickens & rabbits in the back. Not vets but food. If any of the 7th grade grade boys were riding bikes on that street, I always snuck next door to my Uncle’s house which was a new brick home with an attached carport and a large fenced in yard. After I was older I was embarrassed because I had not appreciated all the things my “Mamaw” taught me. Quilting being of of my favorites. She had such a hard life and at 11-12 years old I had been embarrassed. I love how your Mom understood and did what she could to help you feel better. That had to have been far richer than some of those with all they wanted, and maybe not what they needed.
Pamela, I think we turned out pretty healthy and perhaps more compassionate too. I had students’ whose homes were appalling, but when I had to visit—I understood them and they accepted me. Some of my wealthiest students’ parents were never there for home visits. I think growing up in a rural area was a blessing to me.
This serves as a reminder to appreciate the genuine connections and love that surround us during the holiday season. The simple Christmases, marked by creativity, warmth, and shared moments, are the ones that leave a lasting imprint on our hearts. Thank you for sharing such a poignant and touching piece, Diane.
Beautifully written, Diane. We also were very poor when I was in seventh-grade, and I still remember those junior-high years as a sort of hell on earth. My mom was 30 years old with four kids, and moments of maternal insight were understandably rare. Thanks for sharing this sweet memory with us.
Oh, my—4 children! I guess I was lucky in a weird way that my mother only had me to teach and feed!
Indeed, you were, Diane. As the first child, I was the only one who had stories read to me as a toddler by Mom. Having 4 kids in 5 years left her no time for such "luxuries." The flip side, of course. was that I was expected from an early age to be the responsible role model.
I understand. It’s good you were there for them, but tough on fun activities with friends?
I love your mom-to-the-rescue memory! What a wonderful way to sooth your concern, teaching lessons to you and hopefully your friend! Thank you for this... just the pictures of brown boxes touched my heart. ❤️
Thank you, Joan. You’re very kin! If you subscribe to my Substack and go back several posts, you’ll get even a better picture of how he survived my father’s suicide. He was a WWII Navy vet laid off in 1955 from a local company.
https://open.substack.com/pub/dianesbluenotes/p/an-april-fools-day-that-haunts-me?r=2sow8l&utm_medium=ios&utm_campaign=post
I read both parts and just wow! Your mom didn’t know how to handle anything then…no one does.
My heart hurts for young you crying and sad but not getting the family support like you’d get in today’s world. I’m so sorry you list both parents so young… but the happy early memories you have sustain you. Sharing such a personal, raw story helped a bit, do you think? Your sweet mom did her best and it shows in the sweet, caring person you’ve become..always cheering on others. Thank you for pointing me to these precious stories. Hugs.
❤️Thanks, Joan, for reading the stories. What I may not have said was that I had a happy childhood outdoors and my mother was a great actress keeping the brutal facts of what happened until I was old enough to understand it. We stayed with my grandparents for 3 months after my father died before returning to our house. So, I was blessed to be protected.
Yes, I see that now; also needing herself to heal before telling and giving you comfort! I pictured you left on your own to be outside...not given support. But they did support and protect till time was right. Thanks for clarifying.
She and I were the adventurers outdoors, and later gardeners.
I can feel the love...you miss her so! 🥰 Love that you gardened together! 🌺🌷🌻🌳🌿🌱🪴BTW... check out the 1000 hours outside challenge (FB and IG) for next year...I’ve been doing it this year... barely gonna make 500. 😂 If you love nature/being outdoors, it’s great fun to keep the chart, take the pics! 😊❤️
Thanks so much for sharing! My mom thought poverty was shameful, in itself - but I somehow always felt that, rich or poor, the most important thing in a family was love, kindness, heart - I actually wish she had been able to really feel that, too :)
Thanks for your comment. Every family is different. My grandparents lived through the depression, and they were pretty dour. My mother went the opposite way and I thank God she got me off to the right start not feeling sorry for myself. Today I think many people who help the poor with food and clothing are pretty special saints.
The gifts of time and love outweigh all other gifts. I believe that statement with all my heart, but functioning there was impossible until I accepted it is not my responsibility to have others see that as true. However, living with that centrality brings joy.
I understand and agree, Pamelajac! Have a Merty Christmas!
We're not rich, we're not poor. We can enjoy some of life's little things. My son though is exposed to the world of the rich because his friends are wealthy. I noticed that he lost some of that grateful heart he had as a child when he entered his friends' world. Sometimes, I see that he is quite ashamed of what we have, compared to what he sees outside our home. I keep reminding him of the power of gratitude but I guess I just have to let him be? I have to be understanding like your mom?He'll figure it out on his own? I hope so.
Merry Christmas to you! ☺️
Thank you! It’s hard t know how and why children turn out, but he will remember what you’ve taught him as he ages. Peace for Christmas!
Diane - I was in a very similar situation- my Daddy passed away when I was 12. The difference between us? Mother was not loving and understanding. The way I felt embarrassed was when I was at my maternal grandmother’s house. She lived in a very small house, with chickens & rabbits in the back. Not vets but food. If any of the 7th grade grade boys were riding bikes on that street, I always snuck next door to my Uncle’s house which was a new brick home with an attached carport and a large fenced in yard. After I was older I was embarrassed because I had not appreciated all the things my “Mamaw” taught me. Quilting being of of my favorites. She had such a hard life and at 11-12 years old I had been embarrassed. I love how your Mom understood and did what she could to help you feel better. That had to have been far richer than some of those with all they wanted, and maybe not what they needed.
Pamela, I think we turned out pretty healthy and perhaps more compassionate too. I had students’ whose homes were appalling, but when I had to visit—I understood them and they accepted me. Some of my wealthiest students’ parents were never there for home visits. I think growing up in a rural area was a blessing to me.
For me as well (rural areas)
Yes we turned out okay!
Thank you
☀️✌🏻🌹
This serves as a reminder to appreciate the genuine connections and love that surround us during the holiday season. The simple Christmases, marked by creativity, warmth, and shared moments, are the ones that leave a lasting imprint on our hearts. Thank you for sharing such a poignant and touching piece, Diane.
Thanks, Winston ☕️❤️
My Mother & Father always told us that there were always people who had more money that we did, but that didn't mean they were rich.
Yes, my mother said that too. Truthfully, I didn’t understand it fully until later when some of my wealthier classmates dropped out of school.
Our Mothers were wise
Beautiful story and important reminder.
Have you heard of Matthew Desmond and his work on why there's poverty in America?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nw5GoTq2vBE
Jen, I did watch the video--impressive. Good information.
Thanks, Jena. I’ll check him out.
A beautiful short story worth sharing with family and friends every Christmas!
Thanks, Jorge!
Thanks for keeping us focused on the gist of Christmas. Have a Merry Christmas!
Thank you so much, and to you as well, Manuel! 🌲
A touching & heartwarming story of love, thanks for sharing❣️
Thank you, Sandra!
De nada!