My mother was born in 1923 in a small farming community in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. She was the last of nine children. Her mother passed from this earth ten months later. Grandad did the best he could, but the older sisters were the main care givers. Of course, since they were already of marring age, by the time Mom was seven, Grandad married one of the local widows, Fannie Miller Hoak.

Fannie had no children of her own. Mom spent as much time as she could with her older sisters, since in those days, girls were not allow to run with older brothers. Most of her time was spent alone, tiring to be invisible. She was her own best friend. Home making and child rearing came very natural for her, but communications never were a strong point. Since she has out lived two husbands and all her siblings, perhaps it was destiny that she not depend on others. After her stroke numerous grandchildren tried to reside with her, but it never worked out. Now, when the grandchildren complain that she's not huggy and kissy like their other grandmothers, all I can tell them is that we are a victim of victims. The only crime she ever committed was learning to be content with herself. Maybe it would serve them well to learn a little of the same.