My mother was an unforgettable person. She deserves this tribute.

She had many friends, and not a small amount of enemies. Many of those who argued with her about anything but especially politics, were from a distance and had never even met her. She could evoke strong, intense emotions from pure strangers, friends found her energy contagious. She was actively engaged in life, loving country with a strong sense of right and wrong. Gifted in communication, she was not afraid to use it. Her saving grace was her respect for differences. Of all the gifts I like to think I inherited from her, that is one most cherished.

She saw things. Felt things. Understood the unexplained. Things deeply connected but often hard to spot were in plain sight to her, which made her quite popular in some circles, and hated in others. She was free. Embracing thought, she did not rely on proof or logic alone, but added her special ability to tie up loose ends with an intellect that left many scholars stuttering. She pal'd around with statesmen; Senators, Congressman, and a few FBI, incognito, of course. Her top secret clearance with the government forced her to pause when she might want to run. Occasionally, she threw caution to the wind and expressed her political views, sending the FBI into a sobering tailspin. They did not like it when a person with a clearance called attention to themselves even with freedom of speech. It is a frequent topic in my writings of mother.

Mom learned with lightning speed. She was so quick to assimilate, it seemed magical and could be startling.

Mom's quick wit created hysterical laughter in most situations and was sure to bring deep chuckles in all. I have great memories of mom and dad dancing in the evenings at home, putting on a spectacular show. Dad bounced in double time and mom in an off beat, 2 to his 4 or 2 to his 8. It was unbelievable. After her death, no one could dance with dad like she did. I came close, but it was not the same.

A deeply religious woman, she refused to wear it on her shoulder as if daring others to knock it off. Instead, she preferred to speak it on occasion, but live it daily. She would tell me "...if you have to say you're a Christian frequently, then you are not living it as you might." Yet, she would not hesitate to bear her testimony of faith, if she was so inspired and believed it would enlighten others. Sometimes it does not, you know. It is wisdom to know the difference. Often, a message is lost because of its frequency and volume. Witnessing in all places and in all things does not require that it must be verbal.

She taught me that it was impossible to feed a soul that is not hungry, nor was it possible to "give God" to someone who needed food. Create the desire to know, by example, and feed those who need to be physcially filled, first. Her approach was simple, and instinctive.

Mom walked with confidence. I admired her and imitated her whenever I could.

Her physcial beauty was not something she thought about much, having always possessed it. Growing up with good looks during the depression had turned out to be a good thing. I don't mean that the way you might think. Her outward charm took a back seat to work and survival. Long black hair pulled back from her face, she tackled jobs with gusto. She married my dad when she was 16, did not have children until she was 21, and used all the years in-between to dance, play house, and work like the devil.

18 years into her marriage, and 9 years in to her job in the Space Program where she acquired her top secret clearance, she lost her eyesight.

Mom, for a time, was consumed with grief and despair. Her deep sadness pains me still.

But, oh, the places we traveled. I write a lot about her journey as she struggled with darkness. I was 12 when I was assigned the role of "talking eyes," and I became her partner. We climbed mountains, sliding down a few painfully. My father's sacrifices for her, for us were endless. He never gave up, lending her the will to live, to fight for life, to learn to see in the dark.

Motherhood, I have discovered, is so much more than birthing a child. I have given birth to one, and parented 3 and there is no difference in the love. Love is in the nurturing. not dependent on the blood relationship. Oh, I know some will debate that. But, it is so.

I was privileged to see my mother both as my mom, and as her own person. Standing up for her beliefs, I saw her bring educated elected officials to their political knees, always with respect and intellect. Mom would have made "Breakfast Palin Crunchies" out of Ms. Sarah Palin. I witnessed the exercise of honor and character as she fought for the rights of miniorities in our state and neighborhoods when it would have been easier to lose her dignity to temper fits and agony of defeat and ridicule from the more powerful.

When she lost her eyesight and was forced to depend on me for things she wanted to do alone, our partnership of mutual need took us beyond the normal mother-child issues. We became a sarcastic comedy show, fighting against the sighted world and we were its victims. We were explorers conquering new ground, and we were prisoners of the familiar. We were scared, we were fearless. We were together.

For all sons and daughters, our stories are the same, yet unique. Our mothers gave us our beginning. The rest of our life is up to us. If the childhood we had was less than it should be, how long can we blame another? When do we own our choices, our actions?

If I don't speak about the parents I had, then what value is their life? Your parents, any parents? There is no way to accurately summarize her life, for her influence is un-ending, providing a thread of strength to which generations to come, will cling.

Not all women want to be mothers. But all had a mother of some kind. If she is not able to be remembered with love and admiration, what can you carry forward that is of value, passing lessons learned to the next generation of your neighbors, your relatives, your friends? As human beings on the planet, we have an ability, an opportunity and a responsibility to demonstrate our love and respect for each other.

If you're "not the mama" you, in my view, still have a requirement to give of your skills and wisdom to others. We are teachers, unaware. What will be your tribute? What will be your contribution?

Somehow, call it honor bound or a total accident of fate, I was able to pass through being a teen in the 60's without the use of drugs, alcohol, or tobacco. The hippies and yippies were everywhere. While we were in California, I witnessed love-ins, sit-ins, and free love on the beach. I was not envious, content with thinking they were crazy, not needing to know.

No saint, I just couldn't see being a source of pain to my parents who faced enormous difficulties everyday without neglecting me. They stayed committed to raising me and my brother and going to work everyday, answering their challenges with dignity and preserverance. I would not alter my chemistry, sear my brain, nor fill my lungs with a substance I could not control. That choice seemed wise, and I could not be convinced to experiment and "be free." My plate was full of as much freedom as I could handle everyday, and in my young mind, I was content with surviving with the known and familiar. Even now, I like to know what happened on any given day, sprinkling the events liberally with self-control.

I mention character not to brag, but to share what contributed to the absence of drug abuse and experimentation. If we could somehow instill in our kids, in this next generation even, the sense of loyalty to family and history; the high value of self-worth; the ability to see beyond the moment; the knowledge that we are good enough just as we are, perhaps our behavior will become less risky, our violence non-existant. Or maybe I just expect and hope for too much.

The alternative of settling for low expectations is to live with the absence of optimism, and that, I cannot do.

Optimism is the cornerstone of achievement; it is it's very foundation and achievement's first step.

That belief in vision, is one of the many lessons my mother taught me. A woman with no loss of sight. .

I am, and always will be, your loving daughter.