A Line of Mothers

On a day to honor mothers, here are some photos of maternal ancestors. I can trace my line back to the 1500's in Scotland/England, but I only have photos back to my great-grandmother, Georgia Ann. Here she is with her husband (my great-grandfather Alexander):

-this photo was given to me by my cousin Jack

Next in line is the last Southern Belle, Verna Claire, in whose honor this blog is titled. You can see her photo as a young woman at the beginning of the blog, but here she is as she looked about the time I was born. Young or old, she was always pretty.

And, here's my mother, a strong, intelligent , pretty, and larger than life woman - Maureen Claire (you can see photos of her at 13 and at 89 on the first page of my blog). This is a photo of her that was published in a Chicago newspaper.

-this image is from an old and yellowed newspaper article; I scanned the photo on my sister's computer and emailed it to myself and tried to remedy the damage by smoothing it with a photo editor

My mother has always been an eager and excellent storyteller. She could read a poem or story with such feeling that the characters came to life and filled the room. I can remember neighbor children pressing their faces against our screen door to listen when she was reading. This was one of my favorites (so here it is for you, Mother, with much love, on your day):

LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIEby: James Whitcomb Riley (1849-1916)

INSCRIBED WITH ALL FAITH AND AFFECTION

To all the little children: -- The happy ones; and sad ones;The sober and the silent ones; the boisterous and glad ones;The good ones -- Yes, the good ones, too; and all the lovely bad ones.

LITTLE Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay,
An' wash the cups an' saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away,
An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep,
An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'-keep;
An' all us other childern, when the supper-things is done,
We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun
A-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about,
An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you
Ef you
Don't
Watch
Out!

Wunst they wuz a little boy wouldn't say his prayers,--
An' when he went to bed at night, away up-stairs,
His Mammy heerd him holler, an' his Daddy heerd him bawl,
An' when they turn't the kivvers down, he wuzn't there at all!
An' they seeked him in the rafter-room, an' cubby-hole, an' press,
An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' ever'-wheres, I guess;
But all they ever found wuz thist his pants an' roundabout:--
An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you
Ef you
Don't
Watch
Out!

An' one time a little girl 'ud allus laugh an' grin,
An' make fun of ever' one, an' all her blood-an'-kin;
An' wunst, when they was "company," an' ole folks wuz there,
She mocked 'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she didn't care!
An' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an' hide,
They wuz two great big Black Things a-standin' by her side,
An' they snatched her through the ceilin' 'fore she knowed what she's about!
An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you
Ef you
Don't
Watch
Out!

An' little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue,
An' the lamp-wick sputters, an' the wind goes woo-oo!
An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray,
An' the lightnin'-bugs in dew is all squenched away,--
You better mind yer parunts, an' yer teachurs fond an' dear,
An' churish them 'at loves you, an' dry the orphant's tear,
An' he'p the pore an' needy ones 'at clusters all about,
Er the Gobble-uns 'll git you
Ef you
Don't
Watch
Out!