In past writings I have mentioned that any great comedian has a soft heart. I gave as an example in one blog, the soliloquy performed on stage that I witnessed, brilliantly done by one of my all-time favorites, the late Arthur Walsh—in person—on the stage in Minneapolis.
I just finished a video that brought me to tears. It is one of the most touching tributes to a mother that I have ever read. (I am asking my two brothers, Robert and Fred, to contribute to this so there may be a Post Script.) These two guys alone are shining examples of a level of success that can, in a great part, be credited to our mother
Brother Robert earned his PhD from UCLA/Berkely, (he modestly tells people “I am the kind of Doctor who doesn’t do anybody any good!”), and taught Political Science for 40 Years at the university level.
Brother Fred was one of the youngest animators ever employed by Disney and gained fame on his own in Hollywood with his artistic talents. I will have trouble stopping either of them from editing these facts—both are frightfully modest! As a matter of fact, I will be the first to admit that either one of them has far surpassed any heights I may have reached so far as an author!
My Mom was a saint and it took a long time for me to realize it. Far too long! She passed on before I could bring myself to tell her.*
Mary Ruth Smallwood Calvert* was born in Marion, Ohio, the daughter of a Grocer/Professional Baseball Umpire (Minor Leagues) and his wife, a country girl. Mom was, I am very sure, a very good student since she went on to graduate from the Bethesda Hospital School of Nursing in Cincinnati, Ohio. Not only did she graduate from that institution, but she also became Head Nurse there as well as Head Nurse many years later at St. Joseph’s Hospital in Burbank, CA.
When I was in high school and my two kid brothers were still in grade school in Harrison, Ohio, our Dad simply left us and we had no idea where he was. Mom would arise at 4:00 a.m., catch the Greyhound bus at 5:00, transfer to a street car at the Cincinnati Greyhound Terminal for the 15 minute ride up Vine Street to the hospital and then put in two straight 8 hour shifts—then repeat the process, returning home to prepare our supper! Did I mention that she got up at 4a.m. to have our breakfast on the table for us before we went to school?
I remember several occasions when I heard the Greyhound bus driver honking the horn if Mom wasn’t right there waiting. As well as I remember she never missed a bus!
This scenario continued all the way through my graduation and Mom never missed one of my games, either. Harrison was a small school and I was good enough to play and Letter in four sports. I never once failed to spot Mom sitting on the sidelines on the football field, the basketball court, the track field, or the baseball diamond—for every home game!
As a post-script, we finally found our father in Atlanta. I was able to reconcile with him years later as did my brothers.
No one can ever tell me how much a mother loves her children. These memories will go to the grave with me and I look forward to being re-united with her soon . . . and Dad. That day will come soon for me, I know. (At the age of 93 I don’t even buy green bananas!) And I am happy that I have long forgiven my Dad as have my brothers, I’m sure.
“Forgive each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” Eph. 4:32
* At the age of just over 72, we lost Mother far too soon to cancer. 6/15/23-9/24/95
