What first comes to YOUR mind when you hear the word “Mama?” I’m sure the thoughts and memories it evokes vary in many ways.

For me, my Mama was and still is a good old Southern girl. She was raised in the rural back woods of South Alabama. The very tiny and extremely rural Arguta community. Look it up. The sign is still there even if the people have all gone on or gone away. Her family was laterally DIRT POOR. They had to scrape and toil to eke a life out of the back woods of SE Alabama. She, along with at least twelve siblings (apparently, my maternal Grandpa was a “rolling stone”), a host of cousins, aunts, uncles, and assorted relations, toiled to be able to do what everyone in that part of the country hoped to do, just survive. Mama tells few stories of happiness and good times and any opportunity she may have experienced in her younger years. She does not reminisce about the “Good Old Days.” As an adult, I now understand a little about why this is. It simply was not a happy time for her. More on that to come. In fact, my Mama seems to have done everything she knew to overcome her rural, meager, dirt-poor (not to be confused with dirty and disreputable) upbringing. I can see now that her goal was to overcome her upbringing, on some level, to try to be a better and hopefully happier person. So, to action…

How did that look. To be fair, her life once she took control was vastly different. Goodbye naive farm girl. Hello to the independent woman. She, in effect, became the mistress of her own destiny and did her best to overcome adversity. Overcome she did, at least, from the perspective of the poor farm girl. In an era and deeply rooted culture when most young girls were expected to live the farm life, with little to no formal education or training, and with no hint of a possible way out of that life, my Mama decided to step away from those rigid stereotypes that could have bound her tightly to the community she was reared in. She went out into the world to find (or make) a better future. I took me many years to see this. I am ashamed to say so. Life and the ability to grow a little wiser in one’s thoughts and understandings has a way of changing one’s perspective. Today, I choose to celebrate the strength of my Mama and the undoubtably difficult path she forged to help make a better life for herself, her husband, and eventually her own children.

To be honest, my Mama did not forge this path alone. She and the handsome Gentleman she would eventually marry were side by side on this journey. I will share more about him, my Dad, in a future post. But for now, Let’s talk about Mama. Straight out of high school my Mama chose to learn a trade. College was a dream she had but would not realize for many years. It simply was not in the cards she was dealt at that time. In the deep south in the 1950’s and 1960’s, opportunity for a young woman barely existed. Remember, these were the days when a woman had to have her husband, father, or brother sign ANY legal document for her. She could not rent an apartment, buy a car, sign a contract to buy a house, or even open a banking account without a man helping her. She was expected to be silent and often suffered a consequence if she bucked against the cultural norm. For Mama, if you wanted off the farm then the trade of choice in her community was working in the sewing factory. Despite the challenges, women were flocking to the hot and often dangerous sewing factories in great numbers. Many saw this as an opportunity to make their own money and take control of their lives. As a young woman, my Mama started work at a local sewing factory and never seemed to look back. After all, she had to take care of her family. It was not only what she did, but it became a part of her. She did it for nearly 50 years. Her own Mama, Carrie V., had instilled into her a strong work ethic and a great level of proficiency as a seamstress. Mama could sew anything. I believe that, in another life, my Mama could have been a world class fashion designer.

Mama worked for all her adult life in various sewing factories and did so with great strength and presence. She mentored others and made many friends that still come to see her now. Mama is 80 years old and speaks fondly of the decades she worked as a seamstress. It was demanding work and long hours, but she did it and did it well. I suppose many of us might be willing to say we would make a similar sacrifice for the betterment of those we love, but would we truly and eagerly work 14+ hour days up to six days a week in a 100+ degree, in the Summer, and 40 or less degree, in the Winter sewing factory? AND would you be willing to risk life or limb to pay the bills? Mama got her hand pulled into a commercial sewing machine at least once. Broken bones and stitches to hold her flesh together could not keep her from going back to work. On more than one occasion it was my Mama that had to disassemble a commercial sewing machine to free the hand of one of her co-workers that had suffered a similar fate. The work was tough, and a simple mistake could cost you more than you might ever know. She knew what to do and she did it. They were a family. She always took care of family.

Now, back to her story. It was because of her decision to work off the farm, that she was able to earn a living wage. Her own father died suddenly, leaving behind a bereft widow and a young son, yet to learn his own way in life. Mama says she practically raised her little Brother after their Dad died. Mama helped pay the bills and did what every dutiful daughter was expected to do. She took care of her family. AND… Her family grew. It was in the years between high school and her first job as a seamstress that she met and married my Dad. He and my Mama made a life. For certain, there were challenges. What marriage does not have them? But they stuck it out, and well, the rest is history… Mama and Dad did not have the perfect marriage that many couples dream of. They fought, a lot. But they loved one another, and they were married for fifty-three years. They sacrificed to make sure my sister and I had what we needed. Often, they did not agree on how to parent a child. They did agree, however, that they wanted my sister and I to have a good life. They made sure we got an education and seemed even more focused on making certain we had all the tools we needed to be successful. Together, they did this.

So, as I reflect on where I am at this moment, I feel a deep sense of gratitude for all the things my Mama did for me. I love my Mama, just as I loved my Dad. Mama had the courage to go against the expectations of DECADES of generational standards by which her “people” had survived for many generations. She could have taken the easy way out and married a farm boy with no ambition. Her life story would have almost written itself. Instead, she married my Dad. A naive city boy that married a little farm girl for LOVE. They did life for a lifetime. Mama preserved and still seems to have that strength and courage, even today. While she does not sew anymore, she still has a way of imparting her knowledge into anyone that has a desire to listen. She does her best to take care of her family, even if she is not able to get about as she once did. Her mind is sharp, even if her body is frail. Next Spring, God willing, Mama will be 81 years old. My prayer for Mama is that she continues to live the life she desires, surrounded by those she loves, doing what she wants to do, to the best of her ability. Perseverance. Commitment to family. Unyielding strength. Mama. All things she imprinted onto me.

If you have memories of your own Mama, please feel free to share them. Mamas come in all sorts and styles. I believe each one of them is unique and has a story worthy of sharing. I would love to hear about your Mama. Thank you for spending a little time with me today. Happy Sunday, Ya’ll.