Thursday, October 29, 2009
We tend to remember our parents as they were when they left us.
We forget that they led a full life. They were babies and children and young parents and middle aged and everything all the way up.
Here is my mother as a flapper. She's 16 and knows all the dances, the styles, and behaviors of the time. It is 1926 and in three years she will be living through the Oklahoma Dust Bowl while living on farm on the Red River.
Four years earlier she spent almost a year living at a hostel in Oklahoma City so she could be near her brother who was hospitalized with polio. Later in this sophomore year of high school she will have to leave school to stay home and help her mother with her four younger siblings. She will never finish school. But eight miles down the road lived a boy, who also had to drop out of school after the eighth grade who has had his eye on her for years. I can not quite wrap my mind around my mother and father doing the Charleston at a dance in their school gym.
Next year it will be 100 years since she was born. My mom was a flapper, wow!