Tribute To My Mom

Mother's Day is a special day for the vast majority of us, we typically gather round our mothers and shower them with gifts, flowers, dinner out and other ways of celebration. But today, I want to pay special tribute to one mother in particular, my Mom.

My mother, Shirley Melbert Roper was a unique woman, and I could tell you stories about her for a long, long time. Mom was a feminist before there was a word for it. She brooked no nonsense from anyone, even dad. In 1960 she voted for Kennedy (a staunch no-no in my dad's POV) and he didn't speak to her for a few days until she said he could fix his own meals... peace at last (Dad was never a stupid man...he married Mom didn't he).

Mom was born in 1920 in Houston, Texas where my grandfather was a Methodist Minister. She graduated from Texas Women's University where, during a Methodist gathering she met my Dad. They were married in the TWU Chapel in 1942 and she was absolutely beautiful in her wedding gown and dad looked pretty sharp in his uniform also.

Kids were soon on the horizon, my late sister Pam was born in 1943, I came along in '46 and my brother Bert in '47. Youngest brother Doug in '49 rounding out the family. Dad, being in the Army had many different posts, and Mom managed to move us all on a number of occasions to various homes. Columbus, Ga.; San Antonio, TX during the Korean War; back to Columbus and then to Budingen, Germany; Bad Neuheim, Germany; Stuttgart, Germany; Home to Arkansas, Virginia, then to Panama and finally to Dad's last post in San Antonio where they "retired."

Mom was famous for many things, but having a sense of direction was not one of them. On the move from Budingen to Bad Neuheim, she took a number of wrong turns and finally in exasperation said "Stick with me kids and we'll see Germany." Doug piped up with tears in his eyes and said "But I don't want to see Germany, I want to see Daddy."

I won't say Mom was vain, but she did care about how she looked. Mom had beautifully lusterous black, curley hair and she started showing gray when she was in her early thirties. When she would see a gray hair, she'd pull it out. Once, when I was in the 5th grade and Mom was my teacher, she was writing on the blackboard and one of the kids in class said: "Mrs. Roper, why is your hair black in front and black and white in the back?" She stopped plucking gray hairs then.

Mom also had a fine sense of value and the remarkable ability to make any new post a home for her, Dad and the 4 of us. One year, Dad was on maneuvers in Graffenwehr and she sent him a telegram announcing a "new baby." Since when he had left a few weeks before and he knew she wasn't pregnant, he anxiously inquired by phone what was up. Mom told him about our new baby... A Steinway Baby Grand Piano. Needless to say Dad was not thrilled, but boy was he relieved.

Once, while on a trip to get my brother a pair of shoes we walked by a small German antique store. Looking in the window, Mom noticed a small cup that she recognized as a valuable item. In we all went and she inquired about the price. Bargaining was in her blood and she got the price down to DM 40.00 (about $10.00 US) and that just about cleaned her out of cash. On the way out the door, one of my brothers inquired about getting shoes and wouldn't Dad be angry? Mom replied something to the effect, "Your dad will just have to learn what is important in life."

Mom loved pretty "things" and collected a variety of knick-knacks that she treasured. Including a fairly good set of Hummel’s. In Georgia, however, I almost had my life ended when I found out that the Hummel’s made a really nice "plonk" sound when you dropped them in the rapidly flowing water in the ditch in front of our house. Those 4 or 5 "plonks" could have cost me my life (well, maybe only an arm or leg).

When I was just a newborn, Dad was assigned to the Constabulary, an arm of the US Occupation Forces in Germany. One day a kindly old German fellow came to our house and offered to sell beautiful candelabra to Mom for a pound of Coffee. Delighted, Mom made the trade. Dad was somewhat put out when he came home that day explaining to Mom that part of his job was to eliminate the Black Market. Mom explained that this was not black marketing, it was a simple trade.

Mom was no dunce however, over a period of several summers in the late 50's and early 60's she earned a Master's degree from Arkansas State Teachers College in Conway, Ark. She used her degree in good stead teaching kids the fine art of Drama and Acting. Once, after I had graduated from High School, I dropped by her class to have lunch with her that day. Her class must have been fairly unruly because suddenly she put her head down on the desk and began sobbing and wailing. The class grew deadly silent. After a minute or so, Mom popped her head up and said "And that children is real acting." And Mom could act. She was involved in Little Theater in numerous places we lived and was always terrific. (Full disclosure: No, I'm not prejudiced - well, maybe a little.)

Mom, as I noted, didn't suffer fools lightly. Once, in a faculty meeting at the High School in Beebe, Arkansas, Mom listened to one of the Coaches expounding on the need to use stiff corporal punishment at the drop of a hat. This was in the late '50s when such things were common. Mom looked at the Coach and said "Mr. C, where did you get your teaching certificate, the Five and Dime?" The following year I had that coach for a civics class. Not a fun year to say the least, but having sat though the class, I'd have to say she was probably right.

Mom was active in civic and social organizations, taught school, taught Sunday school and frequently ran for offices in the various organizations. She was active in the Daughters of the American Revolution and was the Texas Regent for the DAR. She threw herself into every activity with grace, aplomb and a dedication I could never match. She was the finest of women.

In 1990 my sister grew ill and ultimately died from ovarian cancer. A parent should never bury their child. A friend of mine notes that when your spouse dies, you become a widow or widower. When your parent's die you become an orphan, but when your child dies we have no word for that. Except maybe devastated and crushed. For the remainder of her life she mourned the loss of my sister, as did we all, but for Mom I think it was especially difficult.

In 1997, Mom grew ill and began a rapid decline, passing away in November, 1998. When she died, a big part of me died with her. I've had many friends in my life, but she was always my biggest friend. I've never met anyone quite like her. Dad was also ill, living only an additional 21 months. Every night before falling asleep, he would pick up her picture and kiss her good night. Theirs was a love that always shined through all the trials, and tribulations of married life, as kids on any drive anywhere, when we got home and before we got out of the car, she and Dad kissed. Dad joined Mom at last in September 2000.

Mom, I know you are still looking down on us three boys and that you still try to take care of us. We're OK Mom, I love you, I miss you and I think of you often. God bless you Mom, God bless you!