Remembering my Mother
Sun, May 9, 2021 
This Mother’s Day what better time to remember and pay tribute to my own mother. Born in 1897 she was 39 years old when I was born in 1936.
I never knew her without grey hair, although I was told it had been black when she was younger. She had a tough life, smashed her kneecap as a 10-year-old child, when a pile of lumber fell on her while playing on a construction site.
As a result, her left leg was set straight, and she could not bend it. Her handicap never slowed her walking, although of course she had a severe limp, and even climbing and descending stairs did not seem a challenge.
However, whenever she sat, especially in a theater or other public place, people would run into her extended leg. They would expect her to move it, and of course she could not, and she would have to stand to let then pass.
My mother was widowed in the 1930s and left with two children, when her first husband died of a heart attack at age 40. She married my father in 1935, a year before my birth. My stepbrother was 7 years older than me and lived with us, my older stepsister moved away when she was 18-years-old to work in an Aircraft Factory as part of the war effort.
I was three and a half years old when WWII started in September 1939, and my father was one of the first to be called into the army. It was five years before I saw him again. I have only fleeting memories of my father before then, and my younger sister was born two weeks after my father left.
Once more my mother was left to raise small children on her own. She was an expert at sewing and made all our clothes as we grew up. She would take a man’s suit or overcoat, and painstakingly take it apart by cutting the stiches at the seams with a razorblade.
She would then measure us, make a paper pattern, from which she would cut the material salvaged from the old garments and make us a suit or overcoat. She had a small hand-cranked Singer sewing machine. She also made clothes for neighbors and was often compensated with old suits and coats to make even more clothes.
She also knitted and crocheted, made sweaters, scarves, hats and even gloves and socks. Mostly from wool unraveled from old sweaters. She also taught my stepbrother and me to sew, knit and crochet. Our mother always encouraged us to draw, paint, and engage in craft projects.
Above: 1943 at the height of WWII. (Left to Right.) My Mother aged 46, my sister aged 3 1/2. my stepsister aged 18, and me aged 7.
The greatest thing my mother ever did for me was to boast about my achievements to other people while I was present. She would always say things like, "David is so good at drawing," or "He is so good with his hands, he is always making things." She would show people my creative endeavors.
I would make her laugh by the silly little things I said, and she would repeat this to other people, which made me make more stuff up, or I would remember jokes I heard on the radio and tell her.
I don't think she was even conscious of what she was doing. I believe she was genuinely proud of what I could do, this turned out to be a tremendous boost to my self-esteem.
I remember starting school at aged five, full of confidence. In the years that followed much of my self-esteem had been eroded away, I hated book learning and teachers were always putting me down and telling me I was stupid.
But, when I left school at 16, and started and engineering apprenticeship, my education really started. No more book learning, this was hands-on learning, figuring stuff out with my mind, and making things with my hands, which I knew I could do. I was good at it; my mother had always told me so.
My Mother died peacefully in her sleep in 1982 a few months short of her 85th. birthday. I remember it well when my sister called me. I had just started my own business but was still working in the Masi shop.
She never got to see my later success, and I never thanked her for her part.
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Reader Comments (4)
Thanks !
That was a wonderful Mother’s Day post!
How fortunate you were to have a mother like that.
We often don’t realize the lasting impacts of giving children encouragement. Your mother’s expression of pride went farther than any “participation trophy.” With a few kind, supportive words (reinforced many times, no doubt, through her loving acts) she gave you a base of self-confidence that you drew upon throughout your life. What a gift! And so easily given! A lesson for us all.
Cheers to mothers who support our creations and encourage the creativity within us.