stradasphere

Happy Birthday Betty Mae

69 years ago something magical happened. A baby girl was born. Oh there were many baby girls born on this particular day but one in particular shined brighter. Yes, I can say that. Yes, I am biased. I was told this happened in El Paso, Texas and I believe them. So many stories about her have surfaced over the years. Some say she had a tough time of it, that she was unloved or at the very least, misunderstood. One story tells the tale of the only little Irish girl amidst a lot of other little Mexican girls in a school in a convent. Fitting for her; since she married into a Mexican family and loved them all. She could not, however, master the art of making tortillas. But oh how she tried! As a teenager, she dreamed of being a model. She had a flashing smile and the right dresses. She loved the camera and the camera loved her. She just wasn’t “too skinny” enough. All who knew her say she was, always was, very bright. Not just smart, but bright…as in brilliance. I can personally attest to that.

Then she met a guy. A charming, handsome man with a big family. She loved that. They hugged each other a lot and cooked REALLY good food. This part of the story is very clouded (not shrouded) in mystery…or lack of information. But this much I know; she got pregnant! I still don’t know if they got married before or after their boy was conceived, but it matters not to this particular story. This much I know; she adored that little boy. I should know. There are pictures of her and her baby. She seems mesmerized. Oh you can say that every mother stares at her baby that way but again, I am biased. She loved being married. She loved being a mom. Being a model paled to her Donna Reed dream come true. Her man was everything to her. She had two more children. A daughter and another son. She loved them all in different ways but with the same intensity. Some say she was partial to the first and I would like to think that, but I am biased.

There are more stories with some unbelievable pain. As in “there is no freakin way that could happen to her” but I am leaving them out. Today’s story is not a tragedy per se. It is one of celebration and joy. All the pain she endured is outshined by what she brought to the dinner table. Joy. A big, bright smile. Music, lots of music. She was “that woman” who sang in the aisle of the grocery store. She sang in the car. She sang all the time. She listened to music constantly, maybe a little too much in another story but not this particular one. Maybe it is because she shares a birthday with John Lennon and John Entwhistle. Maybe she just had music in her heart. Her big, booming, blossoming heart that she shared with everyone. More than anyone was capable of reciprocating. Which is the note this story will end on. A sweet note of love. Everyone who knew her says they loved her. But no one loved her as much as she loved them. I am not sure she was even capable of hatred. She loved. I should know, she loved me more than anyone has ever loved me. She showered me with her love. At times I could not handle it and I still have never been able to understand it.

Yes, I am biased. I was lucky enough to be her son. To be loved so fiercely by her. To be inspired by her. And she bought me my first guitar. In 1980, she had to go. I think the world was too cold for her. Heaven suited her much better because she was an angel. I know no one who would deny that. Yet, she lives on in all the hearts that were touched by hers. Today is her birthday and I miss her. And with a loss for the right words at this particular part of this particular story I just want to say I love you mom. Happy Birthday.
Honeybee

posted by Unknown @ 11:40 AM