Sunday, May 12, 2013


In a day and age when morality has taken a backseat to political correctness (which of course, in the case of homosexuality, has to be an oxymoron), to write "A Tribute to my Mothers," could be an indication that I have gone over to the dark side.  Please read the whole post before getting firewood to burn me at the stake. 

My birth mother, Pauline Cory, loved me very much.  When I was six years old, she, with the help of my dad's brother, "ran away" to Denver, Colorado.  We stayed with Uncle Bill for a short time, and then, Mom and I moved to Cheyenne, Wyoming.  We were living in Cheyenne for about a month, when my dad showed up.  He had a friend in the Post Office watch my grandfather's mail, and got our return address off of my mom's letter.  I did not see my mom again until I was twenty-six years old.  I had been told that she wanted nothing to do with me, so I made no effort to contact her.  At twenty-six, I had the opportunity to play in a football tournament near St. Louis where she was living.  On a whim, a friend and I visited her.  I am so glad I did!  My mother loved me!

Not long after my dad had "retrieved me" from my mother, he met a widow named Eloise McArthur.  Eloise had two sons, Mac who was three years older than me, now seven, and Newell who was a year older.  They married, and I became the youngest of three.  Eloise was very welcoming to me, and would sit on the side of my bed and teach me to pray the "Now I lay me down to sleep" prayer; she would read me to sleep; she made sure my new brothers were as welcoming as she.  But, things went down hill from there.  At sixteen, my parents made the decision to remove me from school and I was to join the Navy.  At the time, I was devastated, but now, at the age of seventy, I have to say they made a really good decision.  I was a troubled youth, arrested by the F.B.I. at twelve, and destined to end up in prison had things continued as they were.  My stepmother loved me!

Not long after entering the Navy, I met a sweet, young, sixteen year old Hoosier girl named Judy.  A year and a half later, we were married.  At nineteen, I had a new mother, a mother-in-law.  Dorothy was nice to me, and even though I was an alcoholic atheist, she never once showed what had to be great concern for me, and fear for her daughter.  Judy and I have been married for fifty years, and what was true of Dorothy then, is still true today.  I do not know if I am her favorite son-in-law or not, but by the way she treats me, I have to say that I am sure I am!  My mother-in-law loves me!

My hope is that my mother and my stepmother are young again, walking heaven's streets of gold.  I do not know for sure, but I suspect that they are.  My mother-in-law is here with us, and very much a part of our lives today.  At ninety, she still goes square dancing on occasion, and mows her own yard (due to health problems, I cannot even do that)!  And today, Lord willing, she will attend church, as she always does, and since it is Mother's Day, she will probably win a flower basket for being the oldest mother present, or for having the most "offspring" present.  My prayer for her is that she will live long enough to be in the Rapture, the rising in the air to meet Jesus!  I don't think I could stand it if I had to lose Dorothy.  I love her very, very much!
Happy Mother's Day to Dorothy, Judy, Laurie, Dawn, Cheryl, Hope, Bethany, and Jenna!   

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