One of my favorite pictures of Mother.
It was taken in one of those little picture booths that used to be in all the stores...remember those?
It was taken in one of those little picture booths that used to be in all the stores...remember those?
Florence was born May 11, 1909, the second child of Robert and Mary Frank Perry. Mama Perry told me that when Mother was born there was a large gangrenous abscess on her left leg behind the knee. The doctor wanted to amputate her leg to keep the infection from spreading. Papa Perry got the shot gun and told the doctor if he touched that baby he would shoot him. I remember seeing the very large mottled scar on Mama's leg. Throughout her life she was subject to getting serious infections and had a couple of life threatening experiences. I have often wondered about that but, nothing kept her down. She was sweet, stern, creative, talented, thrifty, frugal, generous, ingenious in many ways and had that Perry "dry sense of humor." My mother is my hero. I wish I could be half the woman she was.
Mama worked at a root beer stand when she was a teenager. We have a lot of pictures from this time.
I don't remember how old I was, but when someone asked me my mother's name, I said her name was "sister." She laughed and told me her name was Florence. I suppose I gave her a strange look because I had only heard Daddy call her "hon." We kids called her "mama." The neighbors called her Mrs. Gilbert. However, Mama and Papa Perry called her Sister as did her brothers and sisters and their children...at least in the first wave of Perry grandkids. She is still referred to as "sister" in remembrance by those who are left.
Mother had a box of pictures that we loved browsing through. We had to ask permission before we got the box from the closet shelf. I'm so happy that my sister had it at her house when our house burned. I grew up looking at these pictures and still enjoy going through them and remembering things she told us. She had a Kodak box camera that took great pictures. This one, however, was made at a photography concession. It's a postcard and not in very good condition. I remember when I was a teenager and felt very bold as I looked at these pictures made during The Twenties, I would say look, "Flo was a flapper!" (on the left) She would immediately say "Oh, I was not! We were riding in a convertible!" I would giggle like crazy saying, yeah....
Another of my favorite pictures. Mama with her Spitz, Baby. I don't remember but maybe she still had this dog when Elaine was little. I'll have to ask her. Now, I have a black Schipperke (from the Spitz family) whose name is also Baby. Quite by accident on the name as my dog is a rescue and happened to answer to Baby when I exclaimed, "Baby, you are so cute" and she immediately jumped into my lap.Mother grew up in the city but had the heart of a pioneer who raised chickens and rabbits in our back yard and kept a vegetable garden. And could she sew! I remember crepe paper costumes duplicated from Carmen Miranda movies for our backyard productions, suits, evening dresses and in her later years ... actually at age 58 she opened an upholstery shop that was quite successful. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
During the winter of 1947 we moved into the country...into a two story log house, no electricity, not telephone, no in-door plumbing, no pump in the well, a log fireplace and a wood burning cook stove...kerosene lamps. The only "appliance" Mother brought with her that worked was her Singer treadle machine. I never heard her complain of the conveniences of the city that were left behind. She seemed to take to the country like a duck to water. I think we all did. I loved it. We cranked a windlass and "drew" water from the well, boiled water in a big black pot over a fire outside and washed clothes on a rubboard while a nice white washing machine sat on the side porch. I loved the house and have some great memories but time in the log house was short lived as it burned to the ground one February night. We barely got out. Daddy put a woolen blanket over himself and told Mother to wrap in one and stay close to him to go down the stairs to get us kids out. Mother was too scared and went out the window, walked across the roof and shimmied down the porch rail. She was standing outside waiting when Daddy came out with Perry and me. Very little was saved. What was gotten out of the house wasn't moved far enough away and that burned, except Mother's sewing machine which she dragged down the hill to the orchard. It took three men to haul it back up the hill!
Mary Frank, Florence and friend.
There are so many stories to tell and pictures to share, but I'll save those for another time. Florence was a wonderful parent who loved her family, siblings, children and extended family. She was a loyal person who kept many things just between herself and God. I still miss you Mama.There is much more to tell that I'll save for another time. She was a lady in every sense of the word...a wonderful friend, and parent with deep-seated faith and a heart for Jesus.
(Please click on Skippingstitchesintime in the side bar and read the story of Pal which stared when I was five.)
