Typing on a Manual Typewriter

Mom went to secretarial school a few years after she graduated high school. Since she graduated in 1945, school was probably sometime in the late 1940s, or possibly early 1950s.

Even in the 1970s and 1980s she could type 80-90 words a minute.

On a manual typewriter.

I can still "hear" the sound of her typing some committee report or whatever, sitting at the dining room table after supper.

Honestly, it sounded like a machine gun going off.

Church Volunteering

Definition of the 20%: Marion E. Boyce

Something Old and Something Blue

It was the morning of November 25th, 1995. My wedding day.

I still lived at home, and as I was finishing up getting ready in my bedroom in the late morning, Mom came in and asked me to sit down on my bed with her so she could show me something.

In her hand was a GORGEOUS bracelet, made of silver and tiny blue sapphires. She told me that it was my grandmother Amelia Moger's bracelet, given to her by her soon-to-be husband as a courting gift, circa early 1920s.

Then Mom fastened it on my wrist, and told me that it was her wedding gift to me:

Something old and something new,

Something borrowed and something blue.

The Last to Leave

I wrote before about Mom's philosophy, "Early = On Time."

It didn't extend to leaving places early. Especially church.
We were almost always early, like I wrote previously. Well, she knew everyone (or so it seemed). And everyone knew her. So she would talk to them. And they would talk to her.

In the process of all this talking people would meander (slooooowly) toward the exits. Meanwhile us kids (or maybe just me) would be shifting from foot to foot, getting more impatient by the minute, waiting and waiting and WAITING for her to be done.

I would think to myself, "If I ever have children I'm NOT gonna do this to them!"

Riiiiiiiight. Ask my almost-9-year-old how often we leave immediately after the church service, and she'd probably say, "Never!"

Mirror, mirror, on the wall - I've become my mother after all!
(Don't worry; this is a good thing if true. Actually, a great thing.)

On Time = Early

As far back as I remember, Mom's idea of arriving on time meant that we were 15 minutes early almost everywhere we went. 
I specifically remember lots of times during Sunday School especially that we kids arrived before the teacher did. Talk about awkward!

On the other hand, it's been a valuable lesson throughout my life about allowing more than enough time to get to a destination, building in time for unscheduled/unexpected/unavoidable delays.

Thanks, Mom!

Christmas Wrapping Paper

I'm sure many of you have parents or grandparents who re-use wrapping paper.
Both my parents grew up during the Great Depression (yes, they both are that old), and the word "save" to them was LAW. (Who am I kidding; it still is! <<grin>>)

So we could count on getting at least one present wrapped in paper re-used from the year before. And the year before that. Aaaaaaand the year before that. I seem to recall one particularly garish piece of wrapping paper that lasted at LEAST 4 years before it finally got too dilapidated to use again (accidentally, of course).

This year there won't be any presents from Mom. But the fact that I won't be receiving any presents from her doesn't make me as sad as the knowledge that I won't be laughing (or groaning) about re-cycled wrapping paper from her either.

Of Choirs and a Mother's Love

I just finished a 3-choir-concert weekend with one of the choirs I sing in, Cantus Novus.
Whew! Singing may look easy, but it's actually a LOTTA work - at least, singing correctly is.

I've been singing most, if not all of my life. Up until age 19 I sang alto until a friendly voice teacher and choral director in college clued me in to the fact that I was actually a soprano. Go figure!

And during this loooong singing "career," my mother has been to almost every concert and/or event I've been in. During my college years I wasn't even a soloist, but she would still make the trip to hear me sing in concerts, at least once a year.

And the college I went to was 4.5 hours away. Now THAT's motherly love.

This same mother was at one of this weekend's concerts, same as always. And she enjoyed it, same as always. But afterwards...she listened to me bragging while introducing her to someone at the reception, saying, "This is the my mom, who used to come all the way to Mansfield University in upstate PA to hear me sing, and I wasn't even a soloist then!"  Hearing this, she looked at me and said, "No, I did NOT!"

Yes, Mom, you did. And each trip you made caused me to adore you more, and thank God for you more.

As the song goes, I'm everything I am because you loved me.