September 12, 2006
- Day 7 - Week 23 - 9/11 Part Two: A Tale of Two
Moms
Yesterday was a significant day, not just to
remember the events of 2001, but, in my case, to
recall the lives of two wonderful women it has been
my privilege to know and love. One died a year ago
on 9/11; the other was born on that day 87 years
ago. The first, Margaret Appenzeller Huyler, beloved
mom of my wife, Ruth; the second, Virginia Wingood
Glass, my own mom---passing her final days in one of
my other "homes", Albuquerque. Let me spend a little
time today remembering these remarkable women who
must not be overlooked on their day, September 11th.
I've learned a great deal from these women. Let me
share some of those lessons with you.
Margaret Appenzeller Huyler was born in Seoul Korea,
the daughter and granddaughter of the first
Methodist missionaries to Korea in the late 19th
century. From her own historic beginning, it was
clear: here was a unique woman with a powerful
legacy to pass on to her family and the communities
in which she lived. She departed from us a year ago
at her beloved classic log cabin ranch in Jackson
Hole, Wyoming after a prolonged struggle with
Parkinson's disease. Mom H. was a beautiful woman,
graced with elegance from her earliest days. One
glimpse of her and you knew-----this woman is a
"class act". She managed to retain that elegance and
class even through her final years when Parkinson's
disease was exacting its all too visible toll. To
the very end, there was a gleam in her sparkling
blue eyes which told you that she understood you,
even if no words were spoken. She was an
intelligent, hard working woman from the old school.
Family and husband came first, Margaret's turn came
only after others were taken care of. Some may
consider that choice a mistake; I believe it
expressed her deeply Christian nature. It was her
natural way.
She was by no means, however, a wallflower. My
mother in law was game for virtually any adventure.
Pictures in her memorial photo album capture her on
horseback, spearing rings with a spear; riding a
bucking barrel a la rodeo style; and exploring the
world with her life mate, my father in law, Jack
Huyler. In her younger days, she was quite an
athlete. One story goes that she took her shoes off
at the Jackson rodeo and won a footrace against all
comers.
Yesterday, I quoted my father in law who offers a
grace, saying, "Teach us to live while we are yet
alive." Margaret Appenzeller Huyler personified that
notion. Even in her final days, she agreed to any
suggestion to go and do. We family types often had
to intervene to make sure she didn't. Some exertions
were simply too risky or not worth it under her
condition. Her spirit was always willing, however,
and she would go and do all she could with an
elegant smile that warmed your heart.
I try to imagine what it would be like to be a
person like Margaret Appenzeller Huyler and learn
that you have Parkinson's disease----a disease
without cure-----a slow decline into the end. How
would I react to that news, I wonder? Without her
example before me, I'm afraid my response would be
less than noble. I can't imagine how difficult it
must be to hold your head up, keeping hoping for the
best, and moving forward. That's what she did
though, every day for the 8 years she was afflicted
by the disease. Where did her strength come from, I
wonder? Clearly, it came from the love which
surrounded her during her final years. That love,
however, had its very source in her. The love which
she so freely gave to others during her lifetime was
returned in full. The ultimate source of that love?
Seems to me it was in her nature, nurtured in her
own family, steeped in her Christian faith.
Many of us have struggled with how to respond to the
news of cancer or any debilitating disease. I
suspect that my own time will come soon enough. I
hope that I will retain Mom Huyler's inspiration in
my spirit when that time comes. If I can truly learn
a lesson from her, that would be among life's
greatest gifts.
I wish that I could say that my own mom's life was
as inspirational. It's not. It provides an equally
valid lesson, however, so let me tell a little of
her story too. Yesterday, mom celebrated her 87th
birthday in a small group assisted living facility
in Albuquerque. A lifelong smoker until recent
years, she suffers from emphysema every minute of
every day and night. Air is hard to come by in her
life and she is constantly afraid of losing oxygen.
In addition, she fell and broke her hip at Christmas
time this past year and has yet to fully
rehabilitate. I'm not sure she will. I'm not sure
she wants to. (It's a sad irony that a translucent
tube from her oxygen machine caused her to fall.)
Her hearing and eyesight have failed----life holds
few enjoyments for her these days.
I am happy and relieved, however, that mom is safe,
warm, comfortable, and cared for in her home. It
makes me very sad, however, to observe that life as
she knew it as a younger woman is over. Aside from
her role as mom and homemaker, mom was a
professional woman with her own career. She worked
for Sandia National Laboratory in Albuquerque for
more than 30 years and rose through the ranks from a
lowly clerk typist to the administrator in charge of
Sandia's global properties and assets. She was one
of the few women administrators at the laboratory,
and was among those women of the highest rank. She
worked very hard on the job and at home, and is very
proud of her career. I am too.
Somewhere in there, however, mom transformed from
her "go getter" persona to a sedentary woman filled
with anxiety and physical limitations. She gradually
lost her interest in the world around her and
neglected to pursue hobbies or develop skills that
could sustain her. My brother and sister and I have
tried countless ways to spark an interest in her or
to provide some source of enjoyment for her to fill
her time. Virtually all of our efforts have been in
vain. That frustrates me and makes me sad. I
wouldn't say that my mom is "unhappy"-----she is
safe and loved, and she knows that-----but I would
definitely say that she is "unfulfilled". Life
itself is her own burden and she sees it as such. I
have little hope that her attitude will change.
I can't help but compare the lives and attitudes of
these two remarkable women---connected ironically by
the date of September 11th. One has passed away, but
lives on. The other lives on, but in many ways has
passed away. I love them both very deeply, celebrate
them in life and in death, and have learned some of
life's most important lessons from both of them.
Perhaps these stories have rung a familiar bell with
you. Now that you're "all grown up", ask yourself
this simple, but vital question......"What have you
learned from your parents?" I think you'll find your
answers most interesting, complicated, and
provocative. Yesterday, September 11th, I did.
Back to Week
23 |
| |
|
|
|
