Babe

Posted by Gerry Di Gesu in HandPrints Stories & Videos | 0 comments

© Gerry Rita Di Gesu

When I first met my mother-in-law, I disliked almost everything about her. She smoked too much, talked too much, spent her money foolishly, murdered the English language, and didn’t take life seriously. But slowly, over the years, without my realizing it, this lovely woman taught me how to laugh; and most of all, how to truly enjoy life.

Babe bounced through life, blond curls swinging and blue eyes dancing. Widowed in her early thirties with three small children to raise, she survived on Social Security payments and guts: working at any job she could find, and never complaining. Too often, her rent was raised, forcing a series of moves in order to make a decent home for her children.

Over the years, Babe suffered the ravages of two mastectomies. “If you’ve got it, you’ve got it, and there’s nothing you can do about it. I guess that’s what the Lord has planned for me,” she said in her accepting way. And then, with her characteristic zest and determination, she set out to put her life back in order. She worked long, difficult hours for meager pay as a cashier in the neighborhood supermarket. But any extra penny she had was shared with family and stranger alike.

Babe often returned home upset over the misfortunes her customers had suffered. Secretly determined to help, she never mentioned her good deeds. But people would often tell me how generous she had been with them. One woman who had been ill and had no money received Babe’s brand new winter coat. “It was too small for me anyway,” Babe explained sheepishly. The free turkey she received each year from her employer was passed on to a more needy family’s Thanksgiving table. Household furnishings often found their way into the home of a struggling young couple.

On her days off from work, Babe worked diligently to make her small apartment shine. Most of her furnishings were second-hand, but her gift for brightening her home was evident in colorful pictures or knickknacks gleaned from garage sales.

When she moved to a dank and dark first floor apartment behind an upholstery shop, I was devastated. Yet Babe took the move in stride, and in a few weeks fresh paint, starched curtains and her happy smile brought a glow to her new home. The back yard was comprised of a broken cement driveway and a row of sagging wooden garages which formed a buffer between the yard and the railroad tracks behind them. But by summer she had transformed the soot-covered expanse into an oasis of wooden baskets crowded with prized tomato plants, glorious geraniums and mounds of brilliant petunias.

All were welcome in Babe’s home. She accepted people exactly as she found them, without trying to change them. Seldom did she miss in sizing up a new acquaintance or situation, and her astute perceptions and observations about human behavior amazed me. She just watched and listened. Most holidays were spent around a table covered with special treats she could ill afford. “I want to take good care of my stomach,” she would laugh, patting her ample tummy. It didn’t matter that she had used her week’s salary for this holiday feast; only that she could share it.

We got to know each other better when she stayed with us for a month when our daughter was born. Before that, I had suspected she was ignorant because she didn’t know much about world events or politics, but such subjects simply didn’t interest her. “Can’t do anything about what all those silly people want anyway,” she’d grin, “so why get excited,” as we sat together on the front porch in the warm fall sunshine. But I realized, after hours of shared conversation, how wonderful she truly was, and how blessed I was to have her.

After her retirement, Babe moved to senior citizen housing and enjoyed some of the happiest times of her life. Always ready for fun, she joined in the activities with her usual gusto, showing off the new dance steps learned at weekly dancing lessons. Once, with a grin she splashed on perfume, fluffed her blonde curls and charged out the door in a red, white and blue gown; ready to dance in a Busby Berkeley patriotic review.

Though she died more than twenty years ago, Babe’s legacy is with me every day. A kind and beautiful lady, she taught me never to give up, and to make the most of whatever life offers. With a positive attitude, there is a brighter side to every difficult situation. She knew that life is meant to be lived fully, with love and joy.

It’s up to me to make the most of each and every day!

Window Photo
Garage Sale Photo
Porch Chairs Photo