She Makes it Look Effortless
My mother is a saint. Period. I don’t think anyone on earth who knows her will debate that. She has always possessed an amazing grace, a practice of peace and gratitude, a pursuit of the quietly beautiful. She has mixed all that with a determination to excel, a commitment to what is right, and a fearless, egoless attitude to help others.
No, she didn’t forsake her family or worldly possessions for a Mother Teresaesque life of self-sacrifice to help others. She practices what she believes everyone can achieve – a life full of family, activity, adventure, and accomplishment while continually balancing it all with humility, service, and charity. She would never consider herself powerful or influential in a political sense, but she carries an influence over everyone she meets simply by the high standards she consistently keeps for herself.
The most remarkable thing is most of the time it has all appeared completely effortless. There’s rarely evidence of self-doubt, yet she is never self-righteous; there are no militant battle cries, yet she is always committed to the highest of humanitarian ideals. The consistency of her demeanor and the pursuit of her passions never seem to waver. That, I think, is probably the most remarkable of her secret abilities. She is strong and confident in her beliefs, her morals. She rarely dwells on regret or wrong decisions. She simply accepts we are not perfect and tries to be better despite having sometimes learned the hard way.
I have never known her to come to anything other than well-thought out conclusions; she doesn’t make rash decisions. She has always been thoughtful, with a sensible ideology bent towards helping the human condition. Consistency, confidence, humility, commitment; acceptance, forgiveness, grace; determination, service, belief in God – it is very, very hard to come up with a negative trait for her.
Growing up I was always amazed at her patience – with her children, with her husband, with her ability to curb any anger and turn it instead into a moment when she would either genuinely laugh or find a way to positively get her point across. My brother used to tease and goad her constantly with absurd reasons why he shouldn’t do something. She always laughed – and made him do whatever anyway. I will say typically if we did something really bad, it was Dad who got to dole out the punishment. She would utter those terrible words that left you in fear for the rest of the day: “Wait ’til your father gets home!” We knew then it was over. Life might end before the sun went down.
I never saw my parents have a fight or even a tiff until I was in my late twenties, and when it happened I was both shocked and amused. I suppose now that was not the greatest environment to set real expectations in children about marriage, but I think more than anything it speaks to Verona’s patience. It does, too, speak to the times in which we were raised – mother’s and children were second to the man of the house. I think that contributed to my mom often having to quietly and carefully make her point.
Verona had many interests over the years. Of course, there was always her music – vocalist, pianist, electric and pipe organist, accompanist. She was a music major at UPS before getting married at 20. She was a watercolorist, seamstress, cake and pastry decorator, stain glass artist, gardener, bird watcher, and much more. She learned how to water ski and snow ski, and exercised at former Mr. California’s Harold’s Gym until just a few months ago.
She was every bit as smart as my dad (who was something of a pioneer in Health Physics), maybe even smarter. After all, she skipped two grades in elementary school and graduated high school at 16. She may not have had the degrees to show for it, but she could mentally dance with anyone. She was a speed reader before I knew the term existed, easily finishing a book in a couple of hours and retaining all of it. And she was the queen of crossword puzzles, almost always completing the newspaper’s daily game.
She was, probably unintentionally, also a bit of a trailblazer. To my knowledge she was the first woman Chair of her Church Board of Directors, serving multiple terms in that capacity. For the mid-sixties I don’t believe that was a small feat. But it was probably a natural progression of her considerable capabilities and diplomatic demeanor.
Now that she’ll be turning 90 next week, she’s had to slow down. Biology is catching up to her. She doesn’t necessarily like it, but she knows her time is getting closer, and she is going gracefully. Once they put her on heart medication a few months ago, she decided she needed to give up driving. No one asked; she decided on her own. I asked her about it and she said quite simply, “I don’t want to hurt anyone.” It wasn’t about her, and I don’t think it ever has been. She has said the same thing about going to assisted living. She has said, “I don’t want to be a burden on anyone. When you think I need to go, you tell me and that’s what we will do.” I have never heard another older person needing care ever say that and really mean it.
So why do I go on ad-nauseum about my mother, Verona? Because she’s an incredible woman. People should know it’s possible to live a life well, be humble, charitable and still be recognized and appreciated for the contributions one can make, no matter how great or small. When she leaves us this world will be the lesser for it. I certainly will be. But then, I have been incredibly lucky to have such an amazing example of the human spirit to follow and attempt to emulate. If only there could be a few more like her. Thank you, Mom. I love you.
