Mother

 The only way I know how to put this all is to tell the truth. And yes, I am extremely prejudiced when it comes to my Mother. I won't exaggerate though.
 Mother was an artist at heart. It showed through her many, many talents. I honestly don't believe there was anything she could not do.
First of all, Mother was very frugal. You had to be if you weren't born with a silver spoon in your mouth. Times were hard, everyone in her family worked and combined part of their earnings into a small 'stash' to make things easier. During the war, nothing was thrown away, 'just in case'. I'm talking, paper, cloth feed bags, glass bottles (there was no plastic), rubber bands, twine..anything that could possibly be used for something else. This standard of living carried through her entire life.
Mother made all of her own clothing, I still have an old shirtwaist (that's what they called a blouse) that she made when she was a young woman. It is so tattered now, but I saved it for the intricate, fine drawnwork done down the center. She could upholster furniture, make evening gowns, crochet, knit, embroider, whatever type of needlework there was, Mother could handle it, professionally. She could make something gorgeous out of whatever she had on hand. She upholstered the seats in my youngest brother's car one time, with leather. One year, she knitted sweaters for everyone for Christmas, another year ponchos for all the girls, she made us quilts, never throwing away the tiniest scraps of material.
  Mother could paint and draw beautifully; write wonderful poetry;(which is sometimes how she put her thoughts on paper), she was an excellent typist and an avid reader. The house was full of books when she & Daddy passed; some Reader's Digest dating back to 1940 something.
 A true artist doesn't have time to keep a pristine house. I've seen Mother sit and crochet & knit with dust on all the furniture, papers stacked on the floor, the dining room table crammed with stuff and a sink full of dirty dishes. These things didn't bother her in the least.
I have a charcoal portrait done by Mother when she was in high school; framed and hanging in my house. It's of a black woman with a scarf on her head; beautiful. She could make tiny, intricate flowers with beads and small gauge wire. She handcrafted pin cushions filled with the hair she had saved. My youngest daughter has one that she made that is stuffed with my braids, some of mother's hair and some of her own hair. The hair keeps the pin points nice and sharp.
 Mother made huge batches of homemade fruit cakes every November. She'd make them in different sizes, by the pound, to sell for extra money for Christmas. She'd bake them, then soak cheesecloth with sherry to wrap them in to keep them moist. Of course, she'd always save one or two for the family, make up some 'syllabub' (whipped cream with sherry), to put on top of a slice. Oh My Gosh! We all loved Mother's fruitcakes.
Her real Italian spaghetti was to die for and I think all the girls in her family have her recipe. Homemade lemon pies, her special macaroni and cheese....I could go on and on. She did all these things while working a full time job, after the boys were old enough for her to go back to work.
 Mother was easy going, fair, honest to a fault, caring, most loving, but occasionally stern,  She didn't put up with any 'foolishness'.
 Mother would come home from work each afternoon and rest for about thirty minutes. She'd lay down with a book and a bag of candy then get up and start supper. After supper it was solitaire or gin & cribbage with Daddy, they loved card games and often played Bridge with friends.

  When she died, it crushed my world. All the wonderful, glorious memories stay with me today. I have so much of  'her' here with me. I was so totally blessed to be born of this woman and I thank God that she was mine.
  Above: Mother and Daddy in later years. (I'm sure I will remember more and edit)