I posted this on Facebook on April 15, 2016, about a month after Mom died.

Installment 4:

Mom had the time of her life when she was in her 20s. Her most vivid stories were from that time. She was dating and going to dances and hanging out with other young people. All of that was put in a certain relief because the world was also at war. Everything was geared toward the war effort, including social life. And her life then was large with possibility. She was a kind of bobby-soxer, loving big band music, people like Tommy Dorsey, Benny Goodman, and Glenn Miller. And she was captivated by movies. She must have gone to everything that came out. She told me that she used to sit in front of the mirror and watch herself smoke and imagine that she was a movie star.

And this one the following day:

Mom's personality was extremely striking. She was actually quite shy and insecure, but she never let anyone know, ever. When she entered a room, she drew all the attention to herself. That was partly because she was pretty and had red hair, but it was mostly because of the energy she projected—and the humor! She was an extraordinarily funny person. She loved to laugh and loved even more making other people laugh. And hers was an odd humor, one that I inherited and passed on to our three kids and they to their kids. (One day when he was a little boy, Stefen told us, "The kids at school don't laugh at the same things we laugh at.") Her mother, my Grandma Webb, wasn't like that, but her father was, at least when he was drunk, or so she said. And she told so many stories about hilarious situations he got himself into. (Like the time he was drunk and Mom's brother Kiel picked him up and threw him behind the couch. Mom was some time later with a boy on the couch [she never gave details about what they were doing there] and after a long time, Grandpa's pale hand appeared on the edge of the couch, as he tried to pull himself up. Kiel, incidentally, was a delightful man, and also hilarious, at times. One of their cousins came to visit one day. I think he'd just gotten back from the army or something. Kiel was there, grabbed him, threw him on the floor, and sat on his chest the whole time he was there, refusing to let him up, all just for a laugh. Mom would tell that story over and over and laugh and laugh.) Her laughter is what got her through a horrific childhood, one that she would never complain about, not directly, but one she certainly critiqued mightily with some of the funniest stories I've ever heard.

About Dad 04.24.2022

My "man of few words" father worked like a dog his whole life, about as close to from cradle to grave as anyone could get. He did that in part because he had to, or his single mother and siblings, and later Mom and I, wouldn't eat. But he did it also because he had a fire in his belly (if I might use that old phrase I love). None of that came easily, however. I always had the impression that he was pushing against something, whenever he took on a task, wrestling with an opponent, even if something he was especially good at. That's the context for his saying to me not a few times that "life is hard!"