I was thinking about some of the things my family use to do when I was a little girl and some of the stories my mom told me from when she was a little girl and I look at my own children and wonder what they will remember. Following is an interview with my mother that I had as a class assignment about two years ago. The day of the interview is a special memory for me because it made her feel special and I remember that she even got dressed up even though it was just her and I:
Interview questions:
What is your name?
Betty ******
What is your birthdate?
March 17th, 1935.
Where were you born?
Paraguay, Arkansas.
What brought you to Modesto, California?
My folks heard about work out here and there were no jobs back east. Times were hard and we always heard about others moving and how good they had it, so we packed up everything we owned and moved here. I was 2 years old at the time.
What was your favorite subject in school?
Math. I was only able to officially complete the 7th grade, but I still did lessons at home, we were always required to work in the fields so school was secondary. I kept up with my studies until I was doing school work equivalent to 10th grade but finally working became priority.
What was your first job?
Working at a fountain making milkshakes, sundaes, etc. I made 75 cents per hour. After that I went to work in the cannery. I was supposed to be 18 but I lied about my age, I was actually only 15.
How did you meet your husband?
I was with friends and he got into a fight with someone and he was outnumbered and my friends jumped in to help. The police came and took the boys to jail and back then they didn’t take them in the police cars, they just instructed the boys to drive down to the police station. A bunch of us went down there, I waited in the car. After he got things cleared up, he came to the car and said, “Hey doll, you want to go out with me tomorrow night?” I said “sure” and the rest is history.
How many children do you have?
Three.
What advice would you give to young people today?
Stay in school and get an education and always remember you are only as good as your word.
What is one of your favorite memories?
The day I adopted my daughter and we brought her home. I truly felt I was being blessed by God.
What are some of the frustrations you feel about aging?
I’m not able to do what I used to do. My mind tells me I can and my body tells me I can’t. I can’t do a lot of the things I used to do.
What physical inability brought on by aging is most frustrating to you?
My memory isn’t what it used to be. It bothers me when I know I should remember something and don’t. My back bothers me a lot because I worked so hard when I was young and didn’t take good care of my body and it frustrates me when my husband can’t hear what I am saying. His loss of hearing frustrates me more than if I had lost it myself.
What are some of the rewards of aging?
I can’t tell you of any. I’d much rather be younger so I could get out and work and be with people. I guess one thing is seeing my children grow up and see their choices in play and knowing they came a long way from where I was.
If you could erase one event in your life what would it be?
My first divorce.
What today, makes you happiest?
When my children/grandchildren call or come see me.
Looking back at some of the goals you set for yourself and your family
when you were younger, were you successful?
I think so, my biggest goal was getting my kids raised and having them turn out to be good people.
What were some of the obstacles?
Having to work more than I wanted to, I couldn’t be home with the kids as much as I wanted to. I hated working and leaving the kids at home, but I had to.
What are some of your goals today?
Seeing my grandchildren accomplish their goals in life.
Do you feel you have any obstacles?
Yes, my age and my health.
What advice would you give to others your age?
Work on your personal relationship with God.
Realizing I am a blend of all I have seen and experienced, I draw a fair portion of my inner balance from my ability to realize things are meant to change…hopefully for the better…although I know that’s not always the case. I look back at my Grandmother and know she had a very hard life…and my own Mother didn’t have it so easy either. They were a family who moved where the work was, often employed in cotton fields and shipyards along the coast. My Mother attributes her many wrinkles to her days spent in the heat of the sun, working alongside the adults. She has a darker complexion than I do. My Mother was raised in an environment of prejudice against dark-skinned people and she detested her own features that she believed to be very similar to African-Americans. Her curly hair and sun-ripened skin were the very things she associated with being unattractive, because that is what she was taught. Growing up I was always embarrassed that there were such prejudices in my family. I remember bringing a friend home from school one day and because she had darker skin my mother made us play outside and then only for a few minutes before she collected me because we had “errands” to run. In the car I received the lecture of a lifetime about not mixing with “those kind of people.” My heart broke, but not for being denied a friendship, but that my own mother could be so ignorant and blind. I never could understand it. To me the “N” word was every bit as offensive as the “F” word. I just never could harbor such hate for anything, let alone another human being. Then about 15 years ago or so, God delivered an older African-American couple to the house next door to my parents. I still have visions of my mom peeking out the window saying she was going to have to sell her home.
It was a weekend spent inside looking out. I watched the rain fall and the wind blow. Now everything is soggy and there are tree branches everywhere. It was a good weekend for being still, getting organized, and getting ahead on some reading. I've had my little nephew Jacob on my mind non-stop. He is scheduled to receive his new pacemaker tomorrow morning at 7:00. Jacob is a character. He is very wise for only being six years old and I always appreciate how candid he is about most things. I know that he is in God's hands and my sister has done an amazing job being a pillar of strength for him. When I called her this afternoon I could tell she wanted to cry. The family had gone home and so it was just the two of them left at Stanford, Sharon and Jacob. I know that in spite of Jacob being the brave little boy he is, he is still only six years old and doesn't understand as much as he puts claim to...or does he? My adult mind knows fear and doubt and has questions that are confusing to ask, but Jacob believes and trusts that many people have been praying for him and so he remains steadfast in his brave outlook and meanwhile the lesson I am learning is not contained in one of these many books piled up before me. Y
I was thinking about some of the things my family use to do when I was a little girl and some of the stories my mom told me from when she was a little girl and I look at my own children and wonder what they will remember. Following is an interview with my mother that I had as a class assignment about two years ago. The day of the interview is a special memory for me because it made her feel special and I remember that she even got dressed up even though it was just her and I: 
