The latest news on my Mom isn't good. She's suffering from kidney failure. In the time I was gone she's deteriorated steadily and this past week her system just crashed. She's in the hospital now and we're sorting out next steps. Her time is short (one to two weeks at best) and it's painful to see. It's fortunate that I've been back and able to deal with this. I wrote the article below and put on LinkedIn back around Mother's Day after I had been trying to get her to go agree to move into assisted living. It was clear that after 92 years; she was unable to live on her own. That's right...at 92 she was still fixing three squares for herself and trying to take care of the home place. It took me two months for me and my brother to convince her. She wasn't able to get the medical help she needed in my old home town...and unfortunately when we got her to Nashville it was obvious that there were many issues looming. Fortunately, only the last month has been really difficult for her. I'd like you to see my Mom the way I see her.....
https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/my-mom-set-standard-phil-bryant/?trackingId=An9qVFxpSFiflpC%2FvErk7Q%3D%3DMay 5, 2022I spent time with Mom this week. Ninety-two years old and still going strong. In the list of major influences on my life, with Mom and Dad at the top, Mom was the one that "set the standard". When I would say this about Mom during my work career, most of the discussion always centered on her insistence on a standard of behavior and effort required in everything we did growing up. And that was certainly true; but it really didn't do her justice.
Mom was delivered by her father in the old family home on 3rd Street in Stevenson, Alabama. She was and remains a Daddies girl. When Dr. Prince died of a stroke when she was 7, the Depression was in full misery. Eight years later, after a long illness, her Mom (Edna Lovelady Prince) also passed. The Depression still on and the added misery of WWII at 15, she was alone. A good student, responsible, a cheerleader, she worked after schools in the local Pharmacy.
In her Sr. year in '46, she was introduced to my Dad on a blind date the week he returned to the States after the War. He was set to go into the State Trooper Academy and was going to be sequestered for 6 months. He asked Mom if she would wait on him. She said she would…and that was that (isn't real history always better than the movies). One year later they were married; the next 12 years were filled with having babies, law enforcement, another war, domestic and foreign military relocations and eventually settling back down in Stevenson into a new home when I was less than a year old.
My earliest memories are of her running the household. Dad worked long hours 6 days a week. Let's just say that under Mom's leadership, the trains ran on-time around the Bryant house. Every morning, breakfast was there and our lunch sacks were filled by the kitchen door. Supper was made after we got home from school or whatever practice (sport or theater) or game we had that prevented us being there at normal supper time. The only time those meals were not made was the one week she was in the hospital when she had surgery when I was in the 1st grade. I can remember how unsettled I was that week. I wasn't old enough to really understand the gravity of the potential scare. I just knew nothing was right. I even had to get my lunch in the cafeteria at school. When she got home, she gave me a very self-satisfied look when I told her the school lunches were awful and I couldn't wait to get back to her PB&Js. It was also true. You could taste the love in those brown paper lunch sacks. Her attention to feeding us was just an example of the millions of things she did for us; every day, without exception. Other than that surgery and week in the hospital, there were no "days off" for Mom. That's right, not a single day off, ever...the trains had to run.
Much like the Eye of Providence, there was no getting anything by Mom. Not that I ever tried mind you. However, if I were inclined to do something a respectable Southern boy shouldn't be inclined to do, she would know about it. If not from her own deductions, the local Kudzu Telegraph was infallible. Here are words I never heard: "wait until your father gets home". Punishment, if necessary, like in the hymn, was certain and swift.
There was a clear code of behavior and standard of achievement that we were all expected to live by or attain. She was determined we would go to college. Whether it be academic or extra-curricular, she expected the effort required to succeed. There were no exceptions. The work was to be put in prior to leisure time. Homework and assignments were overseen by her until it we had demonstrated it was no longer necessary. When work was below "the standard", "challenges" were issued and I'd like to say "and cheerfully accepted". I'd like to say it…but... She was a force of nature when convinced you were capable of the work. That was the only way I ever received an "A" in cursive penmanship . When I got that A (the only one Madge Caperton ever gave for penmanship, he said humbly), I rushed home from school and started yelling a block from the house waving my report card. Mom came outside to see what the noise was all about. I received another self-satisfied look that afternoon. That 3rd Grade, "coaching" experience might have had more to do with me not accepting that something couldn't be done in my work life than anything else in my lifetime; and I stack that up against my time in the Marines.
After I started to school, Mom became a substitute school teacher and was a Sunday school teacher. I enjoyed it when she would substitute in my class. Her Sunday school lesson plans were reinforced at home. My cousins lived next door to us and called her Aunt Carolyn; so many of the neighborhood and school kids followed suit. My Dad liked to tell the story that the doorbell rang one afternoon and he looked out to see one of our neighborhood kids; he was only five. Dad opened the door and asked him what he needed. He said, "can Aunt Carolyn come out and play?".
The last few years of Dad's life were pretty difficult. Mom had transitioned from devoted wife of over 50 years to full time care giver. For the last two years, she did everything for him; everything. She was all that was keeping him with us. We were set to come back to the States for Christmas in a couple weeks when the call came. I was in Australia on business; it was 3:00 am. I had to scramble to get a flight back to Tokyo to get the family and then go to Stevenson. When I was in the car heading to the airport I was talking to Mom. Dad just didn't wake up that morning. His lungs just finally played out. But Mom was sure "if only she had…" she could have defied the inevitable outcome. Fifty-seven years of marriage. She had done everything…she was beating herself up over something she had delayed but could never stop. It broke my heart.
Eleven years-ago Mom stayed with us for about a year while she was treated for cancer. In addition to the cancer, a broken hip and Chemo almost got her a couple of times. Thankfully she recovered. Every discussion on her recovery ended with her talking about when she would come back home. I never contradicted her, but aged 82, I certainly never considered that an option given her overall condition and health uncertainties. Recovery complete; she let me know it was time to go home. I didn't see it working out, but her independence was paramount; that was that. Ten years later she's still taking care of herself. The best part of this is I got to see that same self-satisfied smile come my way this past week when she reminded me of how wrong I was.
For 92 years, Mom has set "the standard". There is a standard of conduct and morality. There is a standard of effort. There is a standard of responsibility. There is a standard of perseverance. There is a standard of service. There is a standard of loyalty. There is a standard of love. One day, I hope to be able to live up to the standard. Happy Mother's Day Mom.
“It was miraculous. It was almost no trick at all, he saw, to turn vice into virtue and slander into truth, impotence into abstinence, arrogance into humility, plunder into philanthropy, thievery into honor, blasphemy into wisdom, brutality into patriotism, and sadism into justice. Anybody could do it; it required no brains at all. It merely required no character.”
Joseph Heller, Catch 22