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COLUMN: Writer recalls his mother's care

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By David Harrison

April 23, 2014, is a date of no real significance to most people, but it is to me. It is the first April 23 in 94 years my mom has not been here to celebrate her birthday. She died on Dec. 20.

Born in Dukedom, Tenn., she was the youngest of four children, and the only one to graduate high school. She remembered the Great Depression vividly because her family lost two farms. The experience affected her whole life.

She and Dad had six children. We were raised in a four room house with the convenience of running water to the kitchen sink, but no indoor bathroom. I still remember the baths in the #10 washtub, the jaunts to the outhouse, sharing a bedroom with three siblings, our first telephone, first television etc.

She raised each of us to be hardworking and independent as she was. She worked for 20 years as a salesperson at a retail furniture store in nearby Mayfield.

With six kids around, our house was always the center of activity for the neighborhood's kids - many were relatives of some sort, but not all. She was a mom for all of them, even feeding whoever was still around at supper time.

She was a wonderful lady, a very caring person and a faithful Christian. She was loving, patient, compassionate, kind, with just the right amount of discipline as I look back it now.

She was proud that all her children received college degrees and were successful in their chosen careers.

As one friend said at her visitation we were blessed, not lucky, to have her for a mother. As another alluded to, you could look up Mother in a dictionary and her picture would be there.

Moms are special. Mine certainly was. She is greatly missed by all who loved and knew her. April 23 will never again be quite the same.