Family, personal

Happy Birthday Mama

Mama would have been 87 years old today. I miss her each and every day. The jonquils are blooming in my yard as are the hyacinths (dug from bulbs that bloomed in Octagon for years). I’m sure the blooms in Octagon are a sea of golden yellow!

I find myself regularly turning to a box of old letters Mama wrote to me through the years. I’m sure that I discarded some letters in my youth, but I think I did a pretty good job of holding on to most of them–and Mama loved to write letters, so I have a bunch!

Here’s one, without the year:

Dear Joe,

Here I am in the middle of housecleaning–I just have to get it done today! I’ve procrastinated long enough!–and what do I remember? I wanted to get you an article on Books-A-Million so you’d know the real story behind it. It actually started in 1917 with the building of Wilson Dam in Florence. The grandfather of the current director of the business saw an opportunity to sell newspapers to workers on the dam. He was only 14 at the time and used discarded piano crates to build his newsstand. Can you imagine? It was Bookland then and not until ’66 did stores open outside Florence.

Hope you are doing fine. We’re at last getting some of the rain that has been everywhere. I called Suzanne yesterday and they are all right, but marooned as is everybody in that area unless they had to be evacuated. Today I’m worried again, I guess, to see if their well is surface water or deep well. Being out in the country you never can tell.

Wilford Hale died yesterday. It’s hard for the family, but he’s so much better off than to have to be totally dependent on others. His funeral will be tomorrow. Jan has not moved into her new house yet.

Papa and I took Mrs. Hill to the area of Dannelly Field in Montgomery Tuesday. She wanted to visit her brother and family–he’s too old to drive this far–he came last year and they spent the night to build up enough strength to get back.

The rain certainly doesn’t slow down your Papa. It’s around ten and he just came in dripping wet. Oh well!

I think Madeline is planning to come to Wilfred’s funeral. I must prepare for the storm! When I called to tell her, both James and Abe played on the other phone, so it was difficult to get a message understood.

We’ve had a bumper crop of blueberries and are enjoying them. Wish you could have some.

I must get finished with my work and go for groceries–it’s been 2 weeks. Do let us hear and take care of yourself.

I love you,

July 8

I love her letters. They really are a conversation. I get the news, a couple of chuckles, and the latest on everything. I miss you Mama. Happy Birthday!


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