Each of us have our own private thoughts of Mom – those memories that rest comfortably in a special place between our heart and our memory. I am now finding that moments now trigger happy memories I’ve filed away of Mom:

I’ll see a proud young mother with her baby daughter, and it reminds me of when Mom was a girl in her early twenties and how happy when you came along, Millie.

It was Depression time, 1936, and she would dress you up and play with you just like you were a doll and her most prized possession. Mom would put you in an old black baby buggy and with Dad and me and our dog, Sunny, we would stroll the tar-ribbed concrete streets of Venice. People would look in the buggy and comment on how beautiful you were, Millie, which only verified what Mom already knew.

Speaking of births, Gary, Millie, and I knew without a doubt on that hot day in July of 1940 that we would have a brother. Mom would often call you “Goober” and she knew you were going to be someone special from the very beginning. Millie and I got to take turns holding you, and Mom was pleased.

And Joyce, when you were born, we all sneaked to the hospital window to see Mom and you. We were all so excited because we had a perfect family. We took turns holding you at home, and commenting on how beautiful you were. Millie, Gary, and I also took care of you – Mom was happy.

Then mom was expecting again – Millie and Joyce wanted a sister. Gary and I wanted a brother, but when you were born, Phyllis, and you not only were as beautiful as Millie and Joyce, but had spunk too, we were all glad which pleased mom.

Looking back, Mom imprinted each of us with a love for each other even before you were born. That thread of love mom wove into our character is a living memorial to her.

We were pleased when Mom was happy because dad would take her to a party or a dance, or the movie. Mom would fix herself up, put on special make-up, a special dress and perfume. She would have a twinkle in her eye, a smile on her face, and would look so very beautiful. She would always make sure we had the dinner of our choice before she’d leave. It was a special time knowing she was happy.

And there were times it wasn’t so happy. but Millie and I never realized it. Standing in bread lines during the Depression to get free day-old bread, standing in lines to get free milk, gleaning lima bean fields after the pickers had gone through so we could have dinner that night, and the next, and the next of only lima beans.

As long as we were with mom, we knew everything was all right and we were safe.

Early in our life we never had vacations – but Mom would try to have special days for us – taking us to the Ocean Park fun house on our birthdays – or taking us to Clifton’s Cafeteria and the Los Angeles Theatre in Downtown. Later with Aunt Lydia and Eleanor and Joey, she would see to it we had a vacation at Huntington Beach. She really wanted the best for us. I am sure we have many personal memories of the love Mom showed to us.

Clay Hadsell