As I go back in time, my thoughts always go towards my mother and father, who brought me into this world.
In my time, you were delivered by a doctor who made house calls, or a midwife who knew what she was doing because she had done so many of them.
The father usually would be out working or maybe in the next room, waiting to hear the cries of that new born child who would be loved by all. The mother was given nine-months seniority on dad, because she carried that child all those months while still doing just about all those things she did any other time.
It was the mother who worked right up to birthing time to keep her family fed and together. I saw my mother doing as much as she could to keep the home the same for all of us. Of course, she expected each of us older children to do our part, plus a little more in case she got tired enough to stop for a while.
Mother had a house full of children, and she did the best she could to ensure that, for each and every one of us, she was Johnny-on-the-spot when we got hurt, sick, and when we just wanted to sit around and listen to her tell some good old stories of life as she had it in her younger years.
Mom had it pretty rough, and Grandmother Sapp was a person of discipline. And her Great-Grandmother Leeds was strict, too. There was only one way to do things and that was their way, as law of the elders.
When Mom met our father, she fell in love right away and she was loyal to the end. Dad had a good woman he could count on to be there for him and all the family.