Today is my mother-in-law’s 90th birthday. We’re having a family “do” this afternoon at the nursing home where my father-in-law now resides. She still lives at home but I know she’d rather be with him. They’ve been married for over 60 years and this is the first time they’ve had to live apart. It’s a great grief. It seems so wrong that they should spend a lifetime together and now have to be separated because he’s too frail and confused to be at home with her.
I’ve been thinking about the slice of history her life has encompassed. The changes in technology have been extraordinary. When she was a young girl, owning a car was still mainly the prerogative of the rich, and most of the cars moved at such a cracking pace that any averagely fit person could easily outrun them. Most people in the city either caught a train, a bus, rode a bike or walked. The country folk rode a horse, a bike, or walked. There were no televisions, no computers and no personal telephones (only the party-line sort that the family shared, if they could afford one). The household washing was done once a week using a boiler and a large trough. Toilets were long-drops out in the back yard and the night-cart man would take the mess away, even if you were still seated on the pan at the time.
She lived through the era of the flapper, the Greatly Depressed thirties, the roaring forties, the rock and roll fifties, the groovy sixties, the psychedelic seventies, the mulletted eighties, the neon nighties, the techno twenty zeros and so far she’s still soldiering on.
I met her when I was just a young girl. One of my sisters (9 years older than me) had her nephew as a boyfriend and then husband. They’ve just celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary so that gives you some idea of the time-frame. (Yes, my sister and I married cousins. Is that banjo music I can hear?) I knew her when she still had dark hair, could stand up straight without a walker, and was full of energy.
She welcomed me into her home and life with love and generosity. When you see how tenderly her three children care for her and Dad Noble, you have the proof of their excellent parenting skills. It’s a beautiful thing to observe.
I don’t know that I will make it to 90. In fact, I’m pretty sure I won’t. That’s okay. It’s not the length of time that’s important, it’s the quality. My mother-in-law has led a life of love, faith and integrity. She seems to be going for both: quality and quantity.
Happy birthday, Lorace. You’re a pearl among women.
What a lovely tribute to your m-i-l! I can’t help but wonder what they’ll say about me when it’s my turn to go. If their sentiments are half as sweet as your tribute, I’ll feel I did well.
I’m sure they’ll speak lovingly, respectfully and joyfully about you, Groovy.
The era of the flapper really means that generation was born into the immediate aftermath of the First World War. Some of the generation went through the deprivation and turmoil to come out saintly. I did know one who let the entire process turn her mean and cramped in spirit.
Those of us born in the middle have a wider view of the changes than many born later. I remember my father being very pleased when he was able to get a telephone installed in the house. Recently my daughter was very pleased when she was able to get the “landline” telephone removed from her house.
I recall an episode of TAYG where Shaun Micalleff showed the panels a soap saver. No one had the faintest clue what it was, and all their guesses were wildly off the mark. Whole worlds have completely disappeared, but the people from them are still around carrying their secret knowledge. History dies every day.
It’s up to the storytellers to keep those memories alive.