On this day in 1943, my mother Marcy was born. She would have been 62 today; hard to imagine. She died on November 11, 1980, from Leukemia. Peter turned 41 that day, Jed was 12, and I was 10.

Jed wrote a really nice entry on his blog about Marcy today, and I have a some things to say as well.

What different place the world was on August 17, 1943. The Allies had just taken Sicily that very day; the Germans had been evacuating for the prior week. And Marcia was born in Philadelphia, the only child of Ethel and Jack.

On March 9th this year, in Peter's house, we found this picture of Marcy on her wedding day. I had seen pictures of the wedding before, but had never seen this picture, it's my favorite of Marcy--young, optimistic, happy, and hopeful. I have wept just looking at it.

In the Spring before she died, Marcy wrote a poem for me. Jed read it on the day that Holly and I got married, so some of you may have heard it. The original is perhaps my most prized possession; it is one of the few material things I have that cannot be replaced. Here is a link to an image of the actual poem, but in case you can't read it, here is the text:

My heart longs for the green hills
for the high green foothills where we
flew our kites
Our dragon lords soared the skies, rode
the sea wind
Ruled our hearts, soaring and diving--
Was it a year ago?
Today the hills are green again
The wind calls out for a kite to caress
But Spring comes to the flatlands, too
Where I must remain, sedately viewing
The wisteria
While my dragon lord lies folded
in his wooden box.

This may seem hopelessly "Pollyanna-ish" to some, but I think I was fortunate to have Marcy in my life as long as I did--if she believed the doctors, she would have died years earlier. She was a great mother and an extraordinarily strong, generous, and devoted woman. I miss her every day.