Often, I will look at my phone, or a clock or a watch and the time will be 1:11, now this may not have any signifigance , but it does to me. This is a story about an amazing, strong, fragile, beautiful inside and out woman. In Elizabeth, New Jersey in 1928 a baby was born on 1/11; Barbara Ann Kerr, her parents were Lillian Curtain, and George Kerr. As she grew up, she realized her dreams and with the help of her mother she knew her worth. Her father whom she loved was a kind gentle man , until he had two drinks, then he became belligerent and verbally abusive, so when he had his first drink, Barbara would make herself scarce. At 18, with the war just ending, she attended Duke University, joined the modern dance team, majored in Sociology. Somewhere along that 4 year timeline, she met and fell in love with Manley Stillwell Stockton. After college, they married in her parents house in NJ, set off on a life adventure, Manley’s career took them to Washington, DC and then off to a posting in Panama, Central America. The year was 1955, on the way to Houston, nine months pregnant, they stopped in Louisville, KY long enough to bring me into the world. Then it was back on the road to Panama. Once there, they settled in to a magical life. Manley travelled the region, Barbara raised her son, life was idyllic. Then sometime in 1957, Manley, her true love woke up one night with pain in his legs, by the time they got to the hospital, he was paralyzed from the lungs down, stricken with Polio. The vaccine was only available to pregnant women and children under 5. He spent the next year in an iron lung, clinging to life and learning how to breathe. Many spouses of polio victims left or collapsed under the weight of the responsibility of caregiver and now breadwinner. Barbara did not. She and her family moved to Atlanta, Ga where Manley’s family lived (and there was an iron lung center at Crawford Long Hospital)B and she began teaching school. The career options for a woman in the south in the late 50’s were limited at best. She took care of her husband in a wheelchair, raised her son, worked full time and counted her blessings. Every New Years Eve she would bang pots and pans together and scream out “thank you and Happy New Year” A victim she would never be. In 1961, on a family vacation on Jekyll Island, her true love died. And a piece of her with him. She tried life with another man in 1963, it ended when she and her new baby and son Manley took a flight from Connecticut to Atlanta one morning after she discovered his mental illness led to the physical abuse of her son. Back in Atlanta, she resumed her teaching, and eventually bought a house( although she couldn’t get a loan unless a man co-signed with her). She settled into her life, raising two boys, working full time and for the next ten years she put me back together, setting me on the course that would lead me to this very moment. Her love, her confidence, her reassurance no matter the circumstance, her love of life and her optimism, all that was the medicine I needed to learn to love who I am. She paid a steep price in our raising. A single woman who was a widower and a divorcee was not welcome in most social circles, in fact, she was a threat to other women of weak character. So she danced with lonliness, giving her boys the best upbringing possible. She never sought her own personal life so she could be the best parent possible. She taught me to drive, to drink bourbon responsibly, to know who my father was and is in me. She was the one person that could make it all right no matter how wrong it was. She taught me that taking care of the women in my life is the greatest thing a man can do. Sadly, In 1980, she died of lonliness, having raised her sons to 25 and 17 years. The year she died, she had been teaching for 17 years straight, her salary that year was $20,000 dollars. Anyone that tells you women are equal citizens with men is lying to you. Women are twice the citizens men will ever be.
There is so much more I can tell you about my incredible mother, my best friend, my salvation when I was so lost and confused and how she got me back together and on the right track. That is another story in and of itself. This story is about her strength, sense of humor, resilience, kindness, moral compass, infectious perseverence in the face of overwhelming odds. She loved and was love. Any of my friends that ever met her, loved her and she them. In 1979, she asked me , “what ever happened to that girl Elizabeth you dated?” Well , ten years later , we would answer her question. I guess she knew true love when she saw it. She was more than a mother , she is my spirit guide. Happy Birthday Mom.
Whenever I see 1:11 , I know she is with me , always has been , always will be.
Beautiful tribute to your amazing mom! Love it!
Strength comes in all shapes and sizes. She was strong and so are you!