Today is Momma's Birthday, and a Selfie.

 Today is my Momma's birthday. She was born on October 13, 1919. Yes, over a hundred years ago. She died in 2009, almost age 90 and I still miss her so much. I had to run errands today, the most important one, getting gas for the car. I always wait to the last minute, till I am literally running on fumes, and so there I am, getting gas, and I don't remember where the gas cap release is. I just stood there smiling, thinking I might have to google it and then I remembered it was on the door. I hate getting gas. It's the one thing I never had to do until after John died. I mean, it's so annoying and smells awful and it's just not something I like to do at all. Someone else always did it for me. I am old enough to remember when a guy at the "filling station" pumped your gas and washed your windshield. I am old enough to remember putting gas on my Daddy's tab, too. Laughing. God, I miss those days, when my Daddy paid for my gas. 

All this week I have been thinking of my Momma. How incredible a human being she was and I have been seriously reflecting on what she would think of society at present, of what advice she would give me if I came asking. And I always asked her opinion on something even if I knew I might not agree with it. She was the kind of person who discussed things thoroughly, exploring all angles and such. She was wise that way, also tolerant and patient if it was not something she desperately needed to do or want. Laughing. She would have also forgotten where the gas cap release was and she would have spilt gas, too, just like I did this morning.  Momma hated the automobile if she had to drive or be responsible. She liked to be a passenger.  I don't think she got her driver's license till she was 45, and never was a good driver. She was Queen of the fender bender. Once she even backed into a police car. Because she hated to drive, she often trained her children to do it, at ages that were not legal. I could drive a car at 13 and often drove it on our extended trips, pulling over to exchange seats with Momma if there was a roadblock where the police stopped and asked for driver's license and stuff. Those did happen back on the old days.  Ah, olden days!!

Someone told me today how much I looked like my mother. Oh, Momma. Yes, I do look like her. I think I am a pale reflection of a woman who was a force of nature, a fierce creature, but then again, I might be more like her than I am willing to admit. I think some of our arguments over the years were born out of our weaknesses which were also likenesses.  We could both be cold and cruel. Opinionated when pushed. We were also too blunt. We pushed back when pushed too far. These were also gifts as well as curses.  Cognitive objectiveness ran through our veins when we needed it. We were always willing to change our minds and look at things another way. We were also women who could remain coldly observant when situated in a very mixed environment or predicament. I have never forgotten that.  That is a gift and I learned it from watching her and how she lived.

Simple things I am grateful for, things my Momma insisted on:

Having chores as a child.

Watching little TV as possible.

Reading, doing homework, on my own.

Learning to be alone and not entertained all the time

Manners. 

Paying attention to what other people do instead of what they say.

Listening but not being afraid to talk.

Having the right to say no.

Never stop learning new things.

Loving as much as possible.

My mother's name was Pauline Church Harrington. She was born poor, lived a hard life, for most of her adult life was a working mother. She was flawed, as all people are, and had her weaknesses, but she was a force of nature, and I miss her. I miss her so much.