If I could describe my mother Gwen, in a word, it would be wise. She had a love for literature from a young age and was never without a book. Her interests were vast and she loved the writings of philosophers, in fact she was indeed one. She loved design and had built two houses with unique details, years ahead of the times. She handled all my Dad’s finances and taught me how to write checks and make deposits at 11 or 12 years old. I can remember late at night she would be reading and writing notations in the margins or dog-earing pages in books that were of special interest to her. She was an avid article clipper….. Quotes, quips, advice, and hints (i.e. Ann Landers and Heloise) poems (Shelly and Browning) and thinkers (Theroux and Gibran)
I feel that she had three purposes in life. 1.) Make a comfortable home for family 2.) Teach her children to survive 3.) And seek out the path to happiness. Once we moved to Evansville she never worked again except for her family. My grandfather stayed every summer with us and my cousin stayed after getting out of the Navy to complete his first two years at Evansville College before graduating from Roosevelt University in Chicago
I was born when she was 25 and because of the depression they decided to postpone any more children since supporting a family in these times was so uncertain. In 1946, my Dad was doing well and they decide to have another child. Back then Evansville had segregated hospitals so my dad, being a physician, did her prenatal care and arranged for her delivery at St Mary’s Infirmary, a private Catholic hospital in St. Louis by a friend and respected Ob specialist of the day. They went over to St. Louis days before and a baby girl was delivered uneventfully. Her name was Brenda. In those days the hospital stay post partum was about a week. My dad had returned home to await her discharge.
Early one morning the phone rang, I answered and it was my Uncle Red calling for my Dad. There was something in his voice that I sensed was not right…so I listened in on the extension. He said, “I’ve some bad news Robbie, the baby died suddenly of no apparent reason and an autopsy was of no help”, (it probably would be consider SID’s in today’s world) and my mother was overwhelmed. I silently hung up and little later he told me the news and although I knew already, I never let that on to anyone, I was 14 years old and was deeply upset. My mother was distraught and blamed everyone especially the hospital, doctors and nurses, I have speculated that in the 14 years of marriage she may have had a couple of miscarriages but saw them as acts of God and attached less significance to those losses.
About a year later, she became pregnant and decided to deliver in Evansville. A prominent Obstetrician took care of her and delivered my brother Bruce. I always have believed if racism in Evansville had not existed the loss of my sister may not have happened and my mother would at least have had family support around her. Even with the happiness surrounding Bruce’s birth a pall hung over her in the following years.
I know she focused on Bruce and seemed to lose interest in her personal goals.
She became more interested in people like what was the purpose of life and how to achieve happiness. When Bruce was about 2 years old, I was leaving for college and she had begun to think on happiness again. She was friendly with two couples who got together on weekends and had deep discussions on life and happiness. And on one of my visits home from college she showed me some writings that she condensed from their talks and she called them “The Four Pieces for Happiness” I have written them as I remember. These are words of a wise woman
“Four Pieces for Happiness “
1.) Peace of Body……. . keep yourself physically healthy
2.) Peace of Mind……... be mentally content with your existence
3.) Peace of Soul………. be in tune with what ever spirituality you believe
3.) Piece of Money……..be financially comfortable
I feel that she had three purposes in life. 1.) Make a comfortable home for family 2.) Teach her children to survive 3.) And seek out the path to happiness. Once we moved to Evansville she never worked again except for her family. My grandfather stayed every summer with us and my cousin stayed after getting out of the Navy to complete his first two years at Evansville College before graduating from Roosevelt University in Chicago
I was born when she was 25 and because of the depression they decided to postpone any more children since supporting a family in these times was so uncertain. In 1946, my Dad was doing well and they decide to have another child. Back then Evansville had segregated hospitals so my dad, being a physician, did her prenatal care and arranged for her delivery at St Mary’s Infirmary, a private Catholic hospital in St. Louis by a friend and respected Ob specialist of the day. They went over to St. Louis days before and a baby girl was delivered uneventfully. Her name was Brenda. In those days the hospital stay post partum was about a week. My dad had returned home to await her discharge.
Early one morning the phone rang, I answered and it was my Uncle Red calling for my Dad. There was something in his voice that I sensed was not right…so I listened in on the extension. He said, “I’ve some bad news Robbie, the baby died suddenly of no apparent reason and an autopsy was of no help”, (it probably would be consider SID’s in today’s world) and my mother was overwhelmed. I silently hung up and little later he told me the news and although I knew already, I never let that on to anyone, I was 14 years old and was deeply upset. My mother was distraught and blamed everyone especially the hospital, doctors and nurses, I have speculated that in the 14 years of marriage she may have had a couple of miscarriages but saw them as acts of God and attached less significance to those losses.
About a year later, she became pregnant and decided to deliver in Evansville. A prominent Obstetrician took care of her and delivered my brother Bruce. I always have believed if racism in Evansville had not existed the loss of my sister may not have happened and my mother would at least have had family support around her. Even with the happiness surrounding Bruce’s birth a pall hung over her in the following years.
I know she focused on Bruce and seemed to lose interest in her personal goals.
She became more interested in people like what was the purpose of life and how to achieve happiness. When Bruce was about 2 years old, I was leaving for college and she had begun to think on happiness again. She was friendly with two couples who got together on weekends and had deep discussions on life and happiness. And on one of my visits home from college she showed me some writings that she condensed from their talks and she called them “The Four Pieces for Happiness” I have written them as I remember. These are words of a wise woman
“Four Pieces for Happiness “
1.) Peace of Body……. . keep yourself physically healthy
2.) Peace of Mind……... be mentally content with your existence
3.) Peace of Soul………. be in tune with what ever spirituality you believe
3.) Piece of Money……..be financially comfortable
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