OK Mom, it's your turn

I haven't really written about my Mom before. I don't know why. Possibly because she doesn't intrude into my life very much. She rarely asks for anything. Well, before I get going my relationship with her, I'll tell you as much as I know about her as a person. She was born in 1930 in Pittsburgh PA. From what I can gather, her family was quite poor. That family consisted of her mother Ellen, her father Ralph Lindsay, two older brothers Russ and Don, a younger sister Lois and a younger brother Ralph. Ralph was way younger, born during WWII when the two older boys were off fighting. After the war, Russ got a job at Emerson Electric and he moved to south St. Louis. The began attending Kingshighway Methodist where he met my dad's family, the Hudsons. After some flirting and courting, Jim and Alice were married. Four kids would come along; three girls and one boy. If had to sum up my entire experience growing up with her I would say that it was peaceful. In that house there was no cursing, no yelling, no violence of any kind. Words like shut-up and stupid were in the same catagory as cuss words and were not tolerated by her. Any kind of racial slur was strictly forbidden. In fact, talking bad about anyone was not allowed. She always took care of herself and most evening would find her on the living room floor exercising with some sort of contraption bought off a TV commercial or maybe just stretching. That has paid off for her now as she's 74 years old and in great shape. She's basically free of sickness and disease of any kind. My daughter and I thank her for those good genes. Now as to her simple life. My dad and sometimes my sisters complain that she never "does anything." I can see their point sometimes. But I know that she really appreciates a simple life. The running joke is how long she seems to need to prepare to go out for the evening or something similar. Don't call her that day to make plans for that evening, it won't happen. Likewise, though I live just around the corner from her she never "stops by." Every now and then she'll come by and drop a bag of something for me or Emily in between the doors, but she won't knock or come in. I have no reason to complain about these things because I now see her at least once a week in Church. She started to again attend regularly a few years ago. We sit with her in worship, then Sunday school and now and then lunch afterwards. She's quite happy to go home after church though, having done enough for the day. She's lived in the same apartment since the divorce in 1983. She still drives the same car she's had since about 1990. Can she drive me crazy sometimes? Sure. But, with quiet confidence, she carries herself with a strong sense of moral certainty, stemming from the fact that she, like me, was taught to always do the right thing.