Debora, mom’s superstar caregiver on weekends, took mom to Family Dollar on Saturday for a special late afternoon outing.
Mom likes to ride in the car and there’s never an argument when she gets a chance to get out of the house and go see the world. She is ready to rock and roll!
And, when I say see the world, I mean see the world. Just a few blocks from home she will ask what state or country she is in, and if you don’t tell her, she will tell you, so seeing the world is truly what it’s all about.
Family Dollar was in Canada and mom would have to navigate through Egypt, China and New Jersey to get there.
After giving the store a good going over, Debora focused on gathering her purchases. Then she and mom rolled their shopping cart filled with bargains to the checkout counter.
Just before cashing out, Debora remembered one more thing she needed (there is always one more thing), so she told mom to stand right there, with both hands on the cart and she would be back in no time.
Mom said, “Don’t you worry, I won’t move from here no matter what. Even if you don’t come back forever, I will be right here.”
When Debora came back, she tapped mom on the back and said, “We can go now, Helen.”
Mom didn’t see Debora come up behind her and growled, “That lady told me to stay right here. And, that’s what I am going to do! I am not going anywhere with anybody. And that’s that.”
It literally took another shopper to join forces with Debora to explain to mom that it was OK to go now.
Finally, mom gave in and headed for the door, arm in arm with Debora. After all, they had quite a journey ahead of them in order to retrace their trip through Canada, New Jersey, China and Egypt in order to get back to Richmond before dinner.
It is my sister, Nel’s, birthday, the second one since her death, March 28, 2011.
She would be 65.
Birthdays followed by would-be-ages are bitter sweet.
My dad’s birthday was in April, and it was a heck of a day to get through for me, even though he passed away in 2002.
Today, I searched my blog posts for the following video. It was taken on Thanksgiving Day, 2008.
My sister was showing signs of what would later be diagnosed as early onset Alzheimer’s, but you sure can’t tell it here. As you can see, her joy was still as contagious as her voice was strong.
I have clicked on this video again and again, today.
I sing along. I laugh. I cry. I whisper how much I love her and how much I miss her.
The words and the simple melody of the song give me the strength and courage to continue down this crooked path of life.
Our harmonies are as familiar as they are comforting.
There we are, Nel, mom and me and somehow it seems like only yesterday, although I am fully aware that it is today.
Nel is dedicating the song to my daughters, Tovi and Lissi. My sister adored “her girls”. And, “her girls” adored their Nel.
My mom bleeds red, white and blue. She always has.
She was born and raised in historic Richmond, Virginia, and her family tree has First Families of Virginia (FFV) names carved in its branches.
Mom’s aunts (her mom’s sisters), who lived in Charlottesville, were not only FFV, but members of the Daughters of the American Revolution, and as such, early volunteers in helping to restore Monticello … yep, Thomas Jefferson’s little 5000 acre estate. This would have been in the 1920s.
As a kid, mom spent many a summer day running free on the grounds, picnicking under the shade of Jefferson’s “pet trees”, including his famous mulberry’s, and climbing up and down the steep and very narrow flight of stairs that led to the dome room. There she would play with the other children, while their relatives helped breathe new life in the old plantation.
My sister, Nel, and I were both born in Richmond and history was as much a part of our growing up as catching lightning bugs or playing hide-and-seek. Mom was our teacher, guide and head cheerleader for the good old USA!
We didn’t learn history from history books as much as we absorbed it. We five sensed it. We could see, smell, taste, hear and touch it at every turn and it was organic and wonderful.
When we moved from Virginia to South Carolina and then Florida, mom made sure Nel and I didn’t lose our connection with the state we were born in, our heritage or our history.
Dad would pack up our bikes in the back of our Chevy nine-seater station wagon and head for Williamsburg where we spent many a summer vacation. And, those vacations would last a month or more and yet it never seemed like nearly enough.
Nel and I felt like we were colonist and residents of the town. We wore our tricorn hats, bought rock candy at the Apothecary Shop with our own money, drank apple cider from salt glazed mugs at Chowning’s Tavern, took turns locking each other in the pillory and stocks and rode our bikes, unrestricted, all over the town, from the College of William and Mary, to the Governors Palace, to the Capitol and everywhere in between.
Nel and I would ride our bikes to the Williamsburg Visitors Center and watch the free orientation film, “The Story of a Patriot,” two or three times a day almost every day of our stay. One of my favorite scenes in the movie took place at St. John’s Episcopal Church in Richmond where the famous orator, Patrick Henry, gave his famous “Give me liberty or give me death” speech.
That was the line every school kid was familiar with, but there was a fragment of a sentence in Patrick Henry’s speech that I found even more meaningful and useful (once I found out what it meant).
When the fiery, Mr. Henry challenged his fellow countrymen, who were still resistant battle the British and fight for their independence, he minced no words. The sentence fragment was, “Are we so meek and pusillanimous … ? “
I honestly never tried to learn or remember the rest of the sentence … I had all I needed.
When I asked, Dad told me pusillanimous meant lacking courage and resolution. I translated and condensed that into my own language which was “Chicken”!
So, anytime my sister wouldn’t do what I wanted her to do, I would repeat the question, “Are you so meek and pusillanimous?” with such passion and conviction that it was guaranteed to make Nel run to mom and dad, with tears in her eyes, to tell them I used those bad words again. I just smiled and repeated to myself, “Chicken”!
When I was called on the carpet for this, which was often, I would have to remind mom and dad, that it was exactly what Patrick Henry said and that Nel was just way too sensitive. I was just trying to practice a little history I had learned from a great Virginian!
As you might imagine, my logic didn’t hold water with mom and dad … but, it was worth it. That sentence fragment, that I turned into a stand alone sentence, started a revolution with my sister and me each and every time I used it, just like it had done for Patrick Henry.
Jamestown and Yorktown were just down the road from Williamsburg, and when you put them together, what more did you need to get a grip on American history. They don’t call it the Historic Triangle for nothing! Who needed Virginia Beach, theme parks or anywhere else on this planet for that matter. We were history in the making and, thanks to mom and dad, we made it over and over and over!
After Nel and I were able to understand the birth of our nation, our family ventured out to see what that baby had grown to be. With dad or mom behind the wheel, that same nine-seater station wagon took our family to every state in the US except for Alaska and Hawaii (for obvious reasons) before my sister and I graduated from high school.
And our family journey didn’t stop there. Mom’s big audacious goal was for us to not only see the USA in our Chevrolet, but to see what was out there beyond our shoreline, and before we had graduated from college. And … she made it happen. No matter what country, city or town we visited, she made sure we were not only learning and broadening our perspective, but honoring our country by not being what she called “Ugly Americans.”
” When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” was our family mantra. Added to this were other Mom-isms. “Never be disrespectful. Never put yourself on a pedestal. Appreciate and honor diversity. Don’t ask for a McDonald’s. Stand tall, be proud, and always represent your country well.”
I’ll tell you how embarrassingly literal that last commandment was as interpreted by mom.
There is a old photograph, that I hope will stay hidden forever, that was taken not far from Cairo, Egypt. It is of the four of us on the backs of camels in front of the Sphinx. Mom and Nel are wearing dress skirts and blouses. Dad and I are wearing blue blazers, button down collar long sleeved shirts, gray slacks and (expletive deleted here) club ties.
This was the desert, for heaven’s sake! People out here were wearing robes. Even our camels looked at us and snickered.
We were Americans alright, and whenever I look at that creepy photo now, I would say we definitely fit the picture of what I would call, not just Ugly Americans, but Damn Ugly Americans. But, to mom, this was a once in a lifetime special occasion, and we were honoring that special occasion by dressing … you’ve got it … special.
Looking back on it now, I wish we had all worn faded blue jeans, and red t-shirts with white letters proclaiming “Made in America”. I believe mom would have approved. After all, she looks really good in red, white and blue.
When mom sings God Bless America, she still shows the colors even though some of the words escape her. But, since she’s never been at a loss for words, she just throws in a few of her own and keeps on going without ever missing a beat.
She has been a dyed in the wool American for 92 years. That’s almost 40% of our nation’s entire 236 years of independence which was gained 236 years ago in 1776 … in where else but Virginia!
Mom bleeds red, white and blue … always has … and always will.
In my eyes, she is a genuine, one-of-a-kind, national treasure.
Hers is one of the happiest worlds you could ever imagine. And, when I visit it, it makes me happy, too.
She rarely visits mine, or at least I am unaware of it if/when she does, but last night, out of the blue, she did and it caught me totally off guard.
I had tucked her in bed, kissed and hugged her and was dimming her lamp on the bedside table when she spoke in a voice that was strong, sure, and calm … a voice I have not heard from my mom for too many years now.
“I just want you to know, if you ever have to leave me, always know you have been the nicest person to be with me and help me.
You have given me the most wonderful times of my life.
No matter what happens, I will always love you for it.”
I stood by her bedside, watched her as she closed her eyes, watched the steady rhythm of her breathing … and then, without making a sound, I cried.
My tears were a warm, salty mix of sadness and joy.
The tears of sadness were for the challenges and choices that lie ahead.
The tears of joy were for the feelings you experience when someone you have loved your whole life, and yet haven’t seen in what seems like forever, returns home.
The miracle is that you are so caught up in the moment, it doesn’t even occur to you to ask, “So, how long are you here for?”
The oaks and the pines, and their brethren of the wood, have seen so many suns rise and set, so many seasons come and go, and so many generations pass into silence, that we may well wonder what ‘the story of the trees’ would be to us if they had tongues to tell it, or we ears fine enough to understand.- Anonymous
One thing’s for sure mom, like the brethren of the wood, has seen so many suns rise and set, so many seasons come and go …
She has witnessed ninety-one, going on ninety-two, winters (mom was born Christmas Day, 1919), springs, summers, and falls.
And, yes, her world still has seasons.
Her ninety-one years on this planet have sharpened all five of her senses that are indelibly linked to the changes the four seasons bring.
She does not mince words when describing seasons or the weather.
Summer is too hot and too bright. Winter is too cold and too dark. Fall and spring are not too hot, not too bright, not too cold and not too dark. Fall and spring are “just right” … mom’s words for perfect.
Mom’s heating and air conditioning bills attest to my commitment to try and make all the seasons “just right” for her.
As for mom’s take on the weather, when it rains or snows, it’s too wet. When it’s not raining or snowing, it’s too dry. Thunder is too loud and shaky, and lightning blinks and is way too bright.
And that’s it … except for spring and fall. Rain, even if it comes equipped with thunder and lightning, is encouraged and applauded.
For mom, springtime is for rejuvenation, jubilation and celebration. She instinctively knows everything and everyone made it through the too cold and too dark winter season and that she is ready to rejoice and embrace the “just right” new season with open arms and warm heart. It is the season of Resurrection, rebirth and promise.
I believe spring is mom’s happiest season … springtime in Virginia that is!
For the last couple of weeks, mom has talked non-stop about what she sees on our drive to and from adult day care.
“Look at that, Tom! Look at that tree! It is putting its clothes back on! And so are all those others! Can you believe it?!”
“What color are their clothes, mom?”
“Green! A wonderful green! All of those trees were so sticky when they were cold … just sticks (in the winter). Now they look great!” Do you see those trees? Don’t they look great?!”
“Yes, mam!”
“They should be in a magazine, don’t you think so? They were nothing but naked and out in the cold. Now they are putting all of their clothes back on. Look at that … they are all wearing green. Just look at that!”
“I love it, mom! Everything is right with the world.”
“I love it, too! I just really love it! Look at that one and that one, Tom (pointing to trees on both sides of the road) … they are so big now! Have you ever seen trees so big in your life?!”
“No mam, never have. I’ll say it again, everything is right with the world … just right … that’s what it is, mom. Just right!”
Out of nowhere, mom starts singing one of her favorite songs of late, Bringing in the Sheaves, but this time she substitutes leaves for sheaves.
She is singing at the top of her voice and I am singing right along with her, “Bringing in the leaves, bringing in the leaves, we will come rejoicing, bringing in the leaves.”
And, I believed that if I only had ears fine enough to understand, the trees were singing in perfect harmony with us.
There was not a doubt in my mind that mom was hearing them loud and clear.
My daddy says, sugar, you are the smartest person I have ever known. And, that is true.
I can listen, I can speak, I can sing and I can find things.
So when the president of the United States of America needs something done or needs something found, I am one he comes to see.
And, when he says to me, Helen Douglas Martin, I need you to go fix what needs to be fixed or find what needs to be found, I get up from this table and go do it, because that is what I do … always have.
That’s why presidents love me.
I know them all.
I am strong. I am an American.
I love the United States of America.
I am smart. Everything I have ever done, I have done it in half the time of anybody I have ever known.
Every president of the United States of America has said to me, Helen Douglas Martin, you do the best things that have ever been done in the history of America.
Me on Mom:
The truth is, mom and my sister, Nel, were commissioned by the Smithsonian Institution’s National Portrait Gallery to do the silhouettes of Nixon, Ford, Bush Sr. and his wife, Barbara. I believe they also did other presidents, but I can’t recall who, so I will have to do a little research before sharing more with you.
Mom and Nel have a portfolio of many notable leaders of our country, as well as visiting dignitaries and celebrities.
I can recall offhand, silhouettes of Andy Warhol, Martha Stewart, Sandra Day O’Connor and all of the Supreme Court Justices that served with her, and Strom Thurman, and his daughter, Essie Mae Washington-Williams.
All of the above, including the presidents, were done in person. Mom always has said she and Nel had about and hour with each dignitary and that they were able to have real conversations with them all.
I know for a fact that Sandra Day O’Conner and Gerald Ford stayed in touch with both my mom and sister long after having had their profiles done.
So, mom really did know presidents. And, for all I know, she might have worked for the CIA.
After all, she can listen, speak, sing and find things. And, she is one of the smartest people I have ever known.
What else do you need … to be a spy?
Secret Agent Mom, Secret Agent Mom,
They’ve given you a number and taken away your name.
"I was normal once. I didn't like it." - Tom Laughon
Tom Laughon, President of Catch Your Limit Consulting (catchyourlimit.com) and a leading expert on creativity and strategic thinking, has proven that a consultant doesn't need "big boy shoes" and a tie to be a trusted advisor.
His journey from lead singer in a rock-n-roll band, to a successful career in marketing & advertising to consultant, strategist, keynote speaker, facilitator, professor and writer is a fascinating one.
Tom is also the proud caregiver and son of a 91 year old mom whose name is Helen!
He sums up their relationship this way, “I guess you could say my mom taught me the values, mindsets and skill sets to get where I am, and now I am using all I have learned and am continuing to learn to show my gratitude and love for her at this stage in her life.”
