Yesterday was my mother's 93rd birthday. I took her to the doctor Friday and came home, so I wasn't there. My sister was though. Sometimes I think that Mom has more fun with us one on one anyway. At 93 she gets tired easily. Still, she got a good report from her doctor. She passed her driver's test and has a license for another year. She still lives in her own apartment and cooks for herself. She is a remarkable 93 year old.
Mom was born in 1921. She was a first born child. Maybe she got all the strength because her two youngest siblings have preceded her in death and her closest sister has had several strokes and is said not to be able to communicate anymore. Since she lives half a continent away, we have to take her son's word for that. Mom was born at home on a farm in central Illinois.
She grew up pumping water outside to carry in for home use and finding cobs for the cookstove. Her family had no electricity until after she was out of high school. My grandma drove to the village in a horse and buggy. Mom remembers riding to Indiana in a Model T Ford when she was 6 years old and her grandmother died.
Mom went to college and became a teacher. She started teaching in one room school houses with students from first through eighth grades. After the War she married my dad and eventually was able to have children, I being the first, 5 years after she was married. Mom remains a Methodist and my dad was the Catholic.
Mom has been a widow for over 30 years. She has made a good life for herself traveling and visiting relatives. I suppose we are both a little worried about where the next step will be taking us. Old age has been creeping up on us, and I believe it has arrived.
But yesterday, her 93rd birthday was still a day she could enjoy. A day to celebrate a long and productive life.