Send me a postcard, won't you?

I spent an hour or two last night sorting through some more of Mom's things she had me put in storage.  The task may very well take me 6 months at the rate I'm going.  

The box I sorted through last night had old church bulletins dating as far back as 1982 and from places as near as Lodi, where Mom lived for about 40 years and from as far away as St. Joseph, Missouri where she traveled to a Rabideau family reunion in 1989.  Most of the bulletins were just ordinary Sunday bulletins she picked up after mass.  Two were bulletins she kept because they mentioned a grandchild or two who were being baptized.  I will give those to the (now grown) kids that were mentioned when I see them next.

There were also programs for graduations (I think they were 8th grade "graduations") for a couple of her grandkids.  

One of more interesting items I found was a letter she wrote to no one in particular about her trip with Aunts Barbara and Theresa and Uncle Bob to the aforementioned Rabideau reunion by train.  What made it interesting is that it was in a plastic bag and that there were several copies as if she was going to distribute them to different members of her family.  I will be transposing that letter here, on Mom's blog sometime this week when I get more time.  It shows what a good writer Mom was when she was in good health and spirits.  

But the most interesting things I found in the box were postcards she had kept.  Not just postcards she had sent to different members of her family over the years, but also those that were sent to Grandma Batty by some of her children that Mom felt compelled to keep when Grandma passed away.  There are a couple dated in the 1930's with 1 cent stamps on them, and many others that are dated as long ago as 40 years!  I will be bringing those to the Lodi remembrance and anyone who wants them can have them as a memory of Mom or Grandma.

Looking through these things are really helping me cope with the loss of Mom.  

Thanks, Mom.  I love you.

Can't sleep

Steve, here!

I woke up at 2:45 this morning, thinking that the day for Mom's 1st family memorial rosary is here!   I've been through several of these services over the years and I'm sure they all take a couple of weeks to complete, but I'm surprised it's been 10 days since Mom left us, and two weeks since I kissed her goodbye and told her I would be back to see her in a couple of weeks.

Grieving is tough.  It's easier with family and friends around, but I still am having trouble coping when I'm alone in my thoughts.  Oh, well.  I'm sure she is happier now in the sweet embrace of our Holy Savior and His mother.  

Oops! I missed a day!

Here's the last of the unsent stories Mom had written.  It's pretty funny.  Enjoy!

Steve

I started to tell you how Cappy, (your Dad, Grandpa, Uncle, friend, etc., etc.And my husband!) got into the Mexican "Bracero" program.
He went to work from the shipyards to work for a friend of the family on a big dairy, and fruit farm. They had Mexicans on this "new" program the Govt. was starting and so we went to work up in Wheatland for the aforesaid guy! While there we lived in a brand new furnished house, etc. We were not too far from Beale Air Force Base and when the Mexicans would get off work at night we would take them up to a "Tavern" Roadhouse actually, and they could get a meal there and dance with some of the customers, have a drink or two and come home! Mainly the trade was from the Base and what tourists would come down the road! The guys, some of them had girl friends, etc.so it gave the workers a little recreation! After a couple of hours we would take the boys back home, singing but happy (most of the time drunk! They didn't have to work on Saturdays and Sundays there at Sandercock Farms! These guys were pretty nice and the folks who owned the roadhouse made them feel at home! Of course, Cappy and I had a ball too because we loved to dance! After a season of this the Farm Security Administration came into being or at least into the bracero program and so Cappy was hired then by the government! Rationing had come into being and we were given little ration books of stamps for groceries, that is some things, like meat, sugar, flout, etc. and we had ration stamps for shoes, and gasoline for our cars! When we first went to work for F.S.A. we were still sent to farms and had our housing furnished, if we wished their housing, or we could rent a place on our own., which we did when we first started to work for these people!

I remember the first paycheck they got at this one place near Healdsburg, Ca. they wanted to treat their "boss" I had a houseful of kids in town to take care of! Namely, Cappy's son Les, and two of my brothers and my sister Teresa had come to "visit" us for the summer and the boys got jobs picking hops, which was what the Mexicans were doing!

What a job! These hops are used in making beer among other things and they grew up on tall poles. They were sticky, smelly and when they worked in them they really earned their money!!!But this first "payday". I couldn't figure out what happened to Cappy because he was there for dinner at night but he didn't show up! Teresa had had her tonsils out that day in the hospital and even tho she had had that they sent here home that day! So, I told her,"Why don't you just sleep here in bed with me tonight" When Cappy comes home, we'll have him go up in the loft with the boys!" So she agreed and about 11"P.M. we hear this bam! I jumped up out of bed and looked out the back door. Cappy, who was never a heavy drinker, had run right into the garage door with his car! I went in and told Teresa, poor thing and I told her, I'm coming back to bed now and I'll just tell hime to go up stairs to the loft! Well, he comes stumbling in the back door and over to the bedroom door and stands there as drunk as could be! "Hello Honey!" I yelled at him, "don't come in here we'll get a cot down out of the loft for you!" I got the boys up and instructed them to bring a cot down stairs! Cappy says "I'll do it and the boys are coming down stairs with the cat and can't get by him" I pulled him out of the way and told him to sit down!!! In no uncertain terms!!! Teresa came out of the bedroom and told me to just let her sleep out there! I did, and I'm telling you once Cappy hit our bed, he was out like a light!! Good thing! I probably would have killed him!!!

Any way when that season of picking hops was over, some guy talked Cappy into going to Bakersfield to work with him, weighing cotton! But that's another story, and I'm tired! I did my watering today outside and decided to do some trimming of my roses and a few other gardening jobs, and then I had to rake everything up! By this time, (almost 10:00 A.M.) I decided to let the gardener who mows our lawns, etc., to pick up the yard and garden trash!!

Cars...

OK, So I was cleaning up the blog files under Mom's account and I found this entry.  I didn't look to see if she ever published this one. After reading it, it looks like she never finished the story, but I think we can pretty much guess the outcome. So I'll post it today in the hopes that it will interest you enough to read the rest of her entries!

Steve

What would you younger people think (and maybe some of the older ones) if I told you that we never had a "Brand-new" car?  I'll bet some of you are thinking, "Wow"!

 Well, it's true!  I started looking at some of these neighbors around here, poor as they seem to be, yet have two or more cars!  One fellow actually has three cars, a van, a truck and a motorcycle and today drove in pulling a motorboat!!  I asked him, "Hey, all these cars and a motorcycle aren't enough?'  He says, “Well, I've had this boat quite a while and had it out at a friend’s house but he wanted me to move it!" So, I asked him, "What are you going to do with it?  Put it in the backyard with your motorcycle?"  He told me he would but it wouldn't fit and besides "if" they ever build our gate back up, he could never get it in and out!  I wonder what he'll do with the motorcycle.

Anyway, Cappy bought the first car that we had just before we were married! Seemed like a good idea! That was the main reason he kept breaking our first dates! He had to borrow his brother's car!  I can't remember what brand it was but it had one seat in the front and a "rumble" seat!  Do you know what that is?  The trunk opened up from the top and a seat popped up!!!  It was a good car and we had it for a good long time!!! 

Finally though, it just absolutely conked out on us while driving to Mother and Dad's for Christmas!  We had no children yet and this trip gave us nothing but trouble for all the miles that we were able to travel in it!  We spent an hour here in a garage, and then would go a little farther and have to pull into another garage.

By six O'clock after one garage up by Livingston, Ca. stayed open for a couple of hours to get us on the road again, the car finally gave up the ghost again, not too far from Stockton, Ca. Here we sat! The car loaded with presents, and we didn't have cell phones or anything like that.  

Cappy recalled seeing a Motel back about a mile and said he would see if they had a room and at least we could call the folks and let them know what had happened!! He left me sitting in the car and I was crying my eyes out!!  I started to pray, first of all that I would be alright and then, that he could get a room! 

Before long I saw two people coming down the highway! One was Cappy and the other guy said that if we wanted to get to Stockton, he was heading that way and we could just load everything into his car and leave our car sit there till the day after Christmas when we could make some arrangements to get home and get the car back to Fowler, where we were living at the time!  We got to Sockton and he let us off at the Bus station. We called a cousin who lived in Stockton, and she and her husband came over and got us! They said we could spend the night with them and they would go up with us to Mother and Dad's! 

We didn't let the folks know anything about it after we had called them in Livingston!    

The Parable of the Persistent Widow

The Parable of the Persistent Widow

 The Gospel of Luke Chapter 18, verses 1-8

Then Jesus told them a parable about the necessity for them to pray always without becoming weary. He said, “There was a judge in a certain town who neither feared God nor respected any human being. And a widow in that town used to come to him and say, ‘Render a just decision for me against my adversary.’

For a long time the judge was unwilling, but eventually he thought, ‘While it is true that I neither fear God nor respect any human being, because this widow keeps bothering me I shall deliver a just decision for her lest she finally come and strike me.’”  The Lord said, “Pay attention to what the dishonest judge says. Will not God then secure the rights of his chosen ones who call out to him day and night? Will he be slow to answer them?  I tell you, he will see to it that justice is done for them speedily. But when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”

We should all be grateful Angela was such a warrior when it came to prayers.  How many of us drag ourselves back home after work each night wanting to say prayers finding that the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak as we try to get our prayers said? How many of us have fallen asleep while saying the rosary?

Angela, on the other hand, had a regular regimen. She prayed the Liturgy of the Hours every day for as long as most of us can remember. She said a minimum of 3-6 rosaries a day, and at 3 PM every day she would drop everything to recite the Divine Mercy prayers. Steve says that many discussions with Grandma revolved around one Novena or the other that she was praying on behalf of her children or grandchildren. At her age she considered it her “job”, and she rarely “called in sick”. When she had problems keeping her schedule, she worked twice as hard in the next few days to “catch up.”

When you think of Grandma's prayers, you come to realize what an example she was for all of us. Think of her prayer regimen this way: When on a commercial airliner, usually while taxiing to the runway, the flight attendants will explain the safety features of the aircraft. In case of the loss of cabin pressure, the oxygen masks will drop from the ceiling above you. You are supposed to put your own mask on first, then turn to help the others around you, especially the small children and elderly. Angie’s rosaries and novenas were not for HER sake, but for those of us who haven’t put our own masks on yet and expressed our love of God and neighbor through the prayers our Blessed Mother has asked us to pray. Grandma felt it was her duty to “breathe” for us until we learned to do it for ourselves.

And our Prayer Warrior was very busy! Let's run the numbers. Consider just the rosaries she has said. She usually said between 3 to 6 rosaries a day. Let’s be conservative and say 5. That’s 35 rosaries a week, 140 a month or 1,680 per year. Steve said this was her regimen for at least the last 10 years (probably 20, but we’re being conservative), so that’s 16,800 rosaries said on the behalf of her family in just the last 10 years! If you break that down to individual petitions—after all, a prayer is a petition for intercession—there are 53 Hail Marys, 6 Our Fathers, and 6 Glory Bes to every rosary, in addition to the Hail Holy Queen(1). That’s a total of 66 individual prayers during each rosary. Are you ready for the total number of prayers she has said on our behalf in the last 10 years? Drum roll, please…….. 1,108,800. That’s over ONE MILLION prayers, boys and girls! Not counting Masses and weddings and funerals and Liturgy of the hours. And that’s just 10 years! And no one that knew Angela thinks she has prayed this hard only in the last 10 years. If you speak to anyone who really knew her over the last 70 years or so, the testimony you will hear is how she was such a prayer warrior, and how we were all helped at one time or another by her prayers.

And when the Son of Man comes, will He find faith on earth? 

He will if Grandma had anything to say about it! And I’m quite sure He found it in His servant Angela.

       

R.I.P lodimama82, your MEmories will continue on

Dear Family and Friends,

Lodimama82, or as I call her---Mom---passed away almost a week ago on Ascension Thursday (May 29, 2014) at noon.

One of her legacies--this blog--will live on at least for as long as I can continue to contribute to it.  To start, I want to post one of two eulogies I wrote for her.  This is the longer of the two and is meant for those closest to Mom.   Future posts will be entries from the many different attempts at keeping a diary that Mom had that we found in different locations in her room and in other storage places she had.  I may post new memories of Mom that come to me, as well.  I might even copy and paste some of my own former blog posts as they related to Mom.  I hope to keep her MEmories alive this way.  Thanks for remembering Mom. It means a lot to me, personally.  Please leave a comment if you like what you are reading or--if you have a different version of the events or if you wish to add something to her MEmories so her children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren can learn to know and love her as I do.  Occasionally, I will editorialize her journals for a variety of reasons not the least of which is because I am one of the few who can decipher her handwriting, and even I have trouble sometimes.  Thanks to all for the outpouring of sympathy and well-wishes.  On behalf of Mom, and the rest of us, I love you all.

Steve

Now, here is my eulogy:
A priest was preaching one Sunday on the theme of “Love your enemies.” After a long sermon, he asked how many parishioners were willing to forgive their enemies. About half held up their hands. Not satisfied with this response, he preached for another 20 minutes and repeated his question. This time he received a response of about 80%. Still unsatisfied, he went on for another 15 minutes and repeated his question. With all thoughts now on Sunday dinner, everyone raised their hand except one elderly lady in the front row. “Mrs. Jones, are you not willing to forgive your enemies?” the priest asked. “I don't have any,” she said. Surprised, the priest said, “Ma’am, that is very unusual. How old are you?” “Ninety-two,” she responded. “Mrs. Jones, please tell me, how can you have lived to be 92 years old, and not have an enemy in the world.” The sweet little lady, smiled, and said simply. “Oh, Father, I’ve had plenty of enemies. It’s just that, at 92, I’ve outlived them all!”  Sounds a little like Mom, doesn’t it?

”What a special gift Jesus gave us when from the cross He said to John, “Behold your Mother.”! (Jn 19:26-27).

Mothers always seem to know what you need and when you need it. I have a lot of very fond memories of times spent in my childhood when it was just Mom and me, which you would think would be difficult in a house with 4 brothers. I can’t begin to write down all of those memories, because A) There are too many, and B) I don’t have enough words in my vocabulary to express what those moments have meant to me. But I will share a few that I think about a lot.

When I was about 8 or 9 years old, I got caught stealing a candy bar from Dale’s market, across the street from our house (I should probably be on that television show, “America’s Dumbest Criminals!) The manager called Mom and she came over to get me. She pulled me home by my ear, really angry that I would betray her trust in me and embarrass her to the neighbors. She kept saying, “You’re going to confession! Today!” and “Your father’s going to punish you when he gets home!” When we got home, Mom sent me to my room and said, “Wait right here! When your father gets home, we’ll decide what to do with you!” All kinds of thoughts were running around in my head, not the least of which was “Man, this spanking is going to hurt!” Anyway, Dad came home and I got really scared. He was all for spanking me, but just as he was about to let loose on my behind, the phone rang, Dad said “Saved by the bell for the moment!” and he went out with Mom to see who it was, forgetting about me for the time being. It was Aunt Jenny. Mom told her what was going on and Aunt Jenny offered to come by and take the both of us to confession right then—me for stealing and Mom for losing her temper with me. By this time, Mom had pretty much cooled down anyway and was having second thoughts about spanking me. She could see that I was sorry. And I was. Truly sorry. Not because of the punishment I might and ought to receive, but because I had offended her and Dad, by not obeying them and staying out of trouble. I said as much to them and evidently Mom was satisfied enough with my contrition to talk Dad out of spanking me. But our trip to the confessional was still made—it was the occasion for me to learn yet another lesson. Sin is sin. Mom spent as much time in the “box” confessing her anger that day as I did for stealing a candy bar!

Mom loved Lawrence Welk! She watched his old shows almost as much as she watched EWTN. I think there were two reason for this. She and Dad watched it together back when the shows were first broadcast and it was often that Dad would take Mom by the hand and lead her to the middle of the living room floor and they would dance. Imagine that! In front of the kids and everything! Eww! Watching Lawrence Welk kept that memory of Dad's loving spontaneity alive for Mom. It also provided another excuse for her to share (yet again) that she was taught piano by Lawrence Welk's niece, Hildegard Braun. As many times as I heard that story—and Mom told it each time as if it were the first time I heard it—I only listened to her actually play on our old organ once. From what I remember of that recital, either Mom forgot most of what she was taught, or Lawrence Welk's niece was not much of a teacher!

Speaking of her stories; in her final weeks in the hospital, all of the doctors and nurses and therapists and care-givers remarked how keen and sharp-witted Mom was at 95. She certainly was gifted that way. One thing you could count on with Mom was that she would tell the same stories over and over and over again, but the facts of the stories never changed.

Mom once told me "I wish I could have made you all millionaires or something”. That reminds me of a story I once read:

There was a very rich man who had everything he had ever wanted and was so proud of himself he went riding on his horse one morning out to the countryside to survey his lands and congratulate himself for being so rich and successful.

He came upon an old man, Hans, who was known as a vagrant and prophet of God sitting under an old oak tree and eating his simple lunch of a piece of cheese and some stale water. "God bless you, sir!" the old man said to the rich man. "Harrumph!", said the rich man with a snort, "It was by my own hard work and diligence that I am the richest man in this country. Your God had nothing to do with it!"

"Nevertheless", said Hans, "I had a dream last night that the richest man in the country is going to die tonight, so I will continue to pray for you."

"Harrumph!" he replied again, saying under his breath "What a crazy old man!"

As the day wore on though, the rich man started to wonder if the old man could possibly be right so he sent for his doctor. After a thorough examination, he was given a clean bill of health and a chide from his doctor for believing in "fairy tales told by old men". He went to bed that night feeling as proud of himself as he always did.

The next morning, his neighbor visited and asked, "Did you hear the news? The old man, Hans, died last night!"

Mom, by sharing your faith with us, you have made us millionaires. God bless you.

The most spiritually profound memory I will keep of Mom and one that is shared by everyone here without question is her complete devotion to the rosary and the Divine Mercy chaplet.

I have often thought and I confess to everyone here and now that I know God exists because of Mom's unwavering faith and prayers. Faith is a gift given to us by God. But it is taught to us and nurtured by our parents. Mom’s example of uncompromising faith and prayers are the “insulin shot” I need at those times when my own faith grows weak. I can only aspire to be for my children and grandchildren the example of faith my Mom has been for me.

You could set your clocks to Mom’s prayers. At noon each day she would stop whatever else she was doing and recite one of her many daily rosaries. She said a different rosary for each intention (and for each one of us). Sometimes she would say it quietly to herself and sometimes she would use some form of media—television or radio or cassette or DVD to “help” her along. There were many times that Mom and I would recite several rosaries while traveling South from Lodi and then back North again. It sure made the time fly by, that's for sure.

Then at 3pm each day (the hour Christ died on the cross) she would recite the Divine Mercy. That devotion is a relatively new one that was promulgated by Pope (Saint) John Paul II when he canonized St. Faustina in 2000. But the rosary devotion was hers since she could speak. I never knew her to miss a rosary in my entire life. She truly was the epitome of what is known as a “prayer warrior”. How gracious was it that Jesus called her home on the feast of His Ascension at noon? Praised be Jesus Christ!

I also have memories about our discussions on faith, life, and yes—even death and the new life that our death on Earth brings us to. But those are pretty deep and I think Mom would like to keep her remembrance on the lighter side.

As a lot of the saints do, Mom had such a great sense of humor! Oftentimes I would tell a joke that would be so mangled I would screw up the punchline. Mom would laugh anyway and then say SHE heard the joke before with a different punchline then retell it to me the right way!

While in the car a few days ago, Janie related a funny story about Mom and her sisters. Aunt Barbara, Aunt Theresa and Mom were all traveling somewhere when one of them remarked “If we were to have an accident right now and die, I'm ready.” The other agreed and said “Me, too! I'm ready whenever the Lord wants me!” From the back seat Mom piped in, “Then pull over at the next corner and let me out!”

I wrote a prayer for Mom on her birthday about 3 years ago. I’d like to share that now:

Lord Jesus, You have known Your Mother’s love and tender care so please hear our prayer for our own mother, Your devoted daughter, on this day we remember her.

Just as she gave life to her children and has given her best to protect us these many years, please protect her now and let her feel safe in the Light of Life that flows through You.

Take from her all her anxieties and fears and fulfill all of her wishes. If Your will is to refuse her any of those wishes, let even the refusals bring her comfort, as she has comforted her children even in her occasional refusals for our own good.

Though we, her children, can never repay her for all she has given us we have confidence that You will repay her for us one day when she rests in the sweet embrace of Your own Mother. Amen.

I’m sure that each of my brothers and our wives has a “special” memory of Mom that shows what a powerful effect a mother’s love can have on any one of us, and how she can protect us from pain and suffering, just as I’m sure Jesus has similar stories to tell about His special moments with His mother that were never written down in the Bible. How great His love is to share His Mother with us, so we can build similar memories with her.

And just as Mom was able to intercede for me to Dad so that he stayed his hand on my bottom that day I stole the candy bar, so our Blessed Mother does for us with her Son.

I would like to conclude with Mom’s all-time favorite prayer:

Hail, Mary, full of grace! The Lord is with you. Blessed are you among women and Blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus.

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now, and at the hour of our death. Amen