Happy Birthday, Mom!

My mother would have been 107 years old today. The image above was taken on her wedding day, April 9, 1937. She was 21 then, dad was almost 26. Dad made $25 a month working at Armours. Mom was a clerk at Armours and made way less than that. Way less. But that’s how they met. The Depression forever changed their lives and I know I have some of those genes in my DNA, too.

I think they both look pretty good. I don’t know if dad was wearing spats or whether those were saddle shoes or what. The double breasted suit, the sharply pressed pants, right out of the Beatles generation! And mom. High heels with fashionable straps, mid-calf skirt, wide collar, modest neckline, mid-length gloves, flying sleeves…definitely the tall and lean look of the day!

Oh, and the hats. I love the hats. I miss hats.

My dad was a widower. I didn’t know that, they never said a word. One day when I was a teenager, my aunt Alberta mentioned my dad’s first wife…what?! She’d died shortly after their marriage. Who knew? Would they ever have told me? Probably not.

Anyway, Mom, Happy Birthday. If there’s a bridge table where you are, I know you’re helping others learn to play. Something you tried desperately to do for me…some of it stuck. Most of it is sadly gone; even though I play once a week, I’ve never been able to channel your skill.