(ROCKWALL, TX – May 11, 2015) My dad has always got the press. Having served on the Tennessee Governor’s cabinet, as well as 20 years in the State House of Representatives, he was a giant in our community, and a hero in my life. Yet, as they say, “the hand that rocks the cradle is the one that rules the world,” and although mom never had the public accolades, she’s every bit as powerful—the difference being, she’s notoriously subtle.
For years as Dad campaigned, Mom was his top vote-getter. She’d go door-to-door, passing out literature, and no matter who answered or how they acted, Mom remained kind and stalwart, meeting every response with smiles and dignity. She’s always been that way in public, calm and collected, being ladylike regardless of the moment. Once, a man answered the door in nothing but a towel and as mom went through her spiel, he decided to drop it—went “full Monty” right there in the doorway. She never flinched, never blinked, but kept talking about how my dad had represented the community and would need the fellow’s vote on election day. After she finished, she turned and walked to the van like nothing had happened until she got inside and recounted the nudist. It took a minute to calm my dad and grandfather down, but she was confident she got his support.
You’d never know it with her hair and nails always done, but mom was the daughter of a Mississippi cotton farmer, and as a child, picked cotton till her fingers bled. When I was a teenager, a family friend once chided her about her “prim and properness” and how she’d never make it goose hunting. Goose hunting in Tennessee is not for the faint of heart. With winter temperatures hovering in the teens and twenties, sitting in a blind by frozen lakes and ponds can wear on a person, especially in the wind. I just knew mom would laugh off the challenge and never hear of it again. Yet, to my surprise she accepted and I found myself flying through mud on my four-wheeler with Mom in tow, threatening my teenage future if I bounced her off in the muck. She toughed it out, and we had one of the greatest family outings of all time.
As diamonds are displayed on black velvet, greatness is revealed in the midst of tragedy, and Mom shined all the brighter after Dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. The two have cared for my special needs sister, but now the entire burden fell on Mom. For nearly a decade she tended to the “Everyman” as he deteriorated to an empty shell. She cooked his meals, cared for my sister, kept the house, drove him to the doctor and nearly wrestled him as the disease took its worst toll. Yet, she hardly complained, but just kept plugging to the point of utter exhaustion. Most would’ve tapped out years earlier, but heroes like my mom, they aren’t quitters, they keep doing their great acts, and often so quietly that we nearly miss it.
By Blue Ribbon News guest columnist Scott Gill of Rockwall, a teacher, coach and author of Goliath Catfish. Follow Scott’s blog at scotttgill.tumblr.com and read all of his “Front Porch Ramblings” at BlueRibbonNews.com.
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