Someday, when I learn how to scan and post pictures, I want to post this picture my dad used to carry in his wallet. My mother is in some kind of dark red suit with a long pencil skirt and tight jacket with big covered buttons. She's wearing an amazing hat and high heels and smiling into the camera. I can't remember what's in the background because the force of my mother's personality and her sense of style make it impossible to notice anything other than her. Her beauty and style draw the eye in any crowd at any place. That and her height. I think she's probably 4'8" tall, but she'll disagree with that. She believes she's taller. When I was growing up she would say she was, "four foot 10 and three-quarter inches" tall. And she was the biggest thing in my world.
Growing up was a whirlwind of homemade dresses with layers and layers of slips, magical birthday cakes, and food, food, and more food. Somehow she had three c-sections in four years and still kept on cooking, cleaning, sewing and loving. Three daughters, two wonderful sisters for me.
I remember 1959 when she was pregnant with my first brother. We were getting a house of our own and we'd drive out to watch them build it. She was so excited to pick out carpet and counters and to create the home we would live in.
My brother was born in February of 1960. I was 8 years old and I think it was that year or the next that she went out to work to help support our growing family. She worked at a meat market/deli, cutting lunch meat and cheese and making sub sandwiches and pizza. Later she worked at a bread store where customers became friends.
My dad always said that my mother was the most giving person he had ever met. She made beautiful crocheted gifts for friends and family, friends of friends, and sometimes complete strangers. She still crochets hats for new babies in the hospital. She makes crafts with a group of girls that are sold at a nunnery even though she's not Catholic. She remembers everyone's birthday, anniversary, and other special occasions. She is a fantastic friend and still lunches with the Grand Trunk girls she worked with in the 1940s!
The best time I ever had with my mother was when she came up to care for us when my twins were born. At that time I had 5 other kids at home. I was 36 years old. I had just returned to college hoping to get my education degree. And I was exhausted. My mother did laundry, fed babies, washed dishes, and made me fried egg sandwiches (my favorite) when I thought I was too tired to eat. Sometimes we would be so exhausted we'd start laughing for no reason at all and other times we'd laugh because mom kept calling the twins by some other names. They were named Natasha and Maya. Sometimes she'd call them Amy and Jennifer, or Jessica and Megan. We'd look at each other and crack up.
We spent hours on the phone calling places all over the country looking for premie diapers (something I hadn't thought of ahead of time). We'd laugh about how little me knew about geography. One day she was in the laundry room and I answered the phone. A friend asked how we were doing and I said, "A little rocky..." Mom hollered out, "I know that one, that's in Arkansas." Maybe you had to be there, but we laughed until tears flowed and our faces hurt.
Mom has made sure that family traditions continue. One of the things I'm most grateful to her for doing is making sure that we always have Wigilia - Polish Christmas Eve (even though she's not Polish). The extended Woznicki family get together at a hall and eat and laugh and cry. Each year, as the older generation diminishes, the youngest generation increases.
My mother has taught me what it means to be a beautiful woman and I am grateful.
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