Happy Birthday, Mommy

The lady in the middle turns 99 years young today.  She is more with it than you would probably expect for someone beginning her 100th year.  When she was born her family didn't own an automobile, have inside running water, or electricity.  This was not because her family was poor, but rather because in rural Illinois, farm families didn't enjoy those things yet. She both went to and taught in one room schools.

I have heard many times the story of that little chair sitting in front of my grandson.  There are two of those chairs.  They came from southern Indiana.  An uncle sent them to my mom and her sister through the mail.  They were hanging over the fence post because they didn't fit in the mailbox with an address tag.  That was before we had Amazon and FedEx and all that jazz.

With any luck I will get to see Mom for her birthday.  The plan is to move her out of assisted living.  The virus is making it too dangerous for her to stay there.  In her last years of life she needs to be somewhere with her family.  She doesn't really need nursing care.  My sister is stepping up to take her.

Happy Birthday, Mom.  Someone surely hoped that you would live in interesting times.  Because you have seen depressions, wars, and plagues, and you are still here.