A Tribute To My Mother

Introduction  

On this Mother’s Day, 2015, I am reminded of my mother, and of a tribute I wrote to her when she died on January 4^th , 2000.

Today, in her honor, I will post the tribute, and think back on her life.

I hope it will stimulate you to think of your mother, and of great mothers everywhere who have given all they had to raise their children and prepare them for their place in the world.

Ruby Gray Odaffer Atteberry (April 1, 1902- January 4, 2000)

My Mother, Ruby Odaffer Atteberry

Ruby – mother, mother-in-law, grandmother, relative, neighbor, and good friend.   She was so special to many of us- a unique lady who we greatly enjoyed, and who will always have a strong, positive influence on our lives.

Maybe, somehow, we will find a way to tell her story to future generations, and impart some of her character and values to them.

A common comment from people of all ages who visited Ruby, was “I really enjoyed talking to her.”

What was there about this lady, who was born near Lane, Illinois, grew up in Weldon, Illinois, and lived near her home territory all of her life, that caused people to make this comment?

Ruby, always true to the lack of material possessions in her early life, never had very many extra wants or needs. She always had great respect for her family heritage, and continued to remember them through her poems, her interest in her ancestors, and her untiring support of the annual Gray Reunion.

As a woman who was valedictorian of her high school class, clerk in her uncle’s store, a country school teacher, a hard working farmer’s wife and mother, a superb cook, and an egg candler and chicken dresser, Ruby believed in working hard and doing a quality job.

Her memory was phenomenal… She could remember extraordinary details of what happened from when she was 2 or 3 years old on, as well as almost anything she had ever read. On nights when she couldn’t sleep, she would recite poetry or famous speeches she had memorized. She once said that she had recited for over two and one half hours.

She also loved to write poetry. When there was a plan to remove the statue of Abe Lincoln from the Clinton, Illinois square, it was Ruby’s letter to the editor with a poem that helped save the statue for posterity.

Her poems were always positive- and gave simple affirmation of family and spiritual values. We will never be able to read the poems the way Ruby did, but we will always read them with her special way in our memory.

Ruby was a very special mother. Her children vividly remember the love and teaching she gave, and her support through their growing years.

I remember, as a first grader having trouble learning to read, her sitting me on her lap and teaching me phonics in one evening. I never had trouble with reading again!

She taught her daughters and daughter-in-law the techniques of taking care of babies, and her simple, but effective, principles for raising children.

Ruby was always deeply interested in what her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren were doing, and dearly loved them all. To them, she was the “world’s greatest grandmother.”

She was loved not only by her grandchildren, but by the many neighbor children who also stopped by to talk with her, play Chinese checkers, Dominoes, or Aggravation, and sample some cookies. She had a special way with children, and they loved being around her.

Current affairs and “the state of the world and its people” always were of great interest to Ruby. She loved to talk about how things are, and compare them with how they used to be.

Her simple, straightforward approach to life was inspiring and contagious.

In her later years at Meadows Home, Ruby was always mentally alert. She adapted admirably to her many physical problems, and when asked how she was feeling, she either said “tolerable” or “with my fingers.” Her sense of humor was always in evidence.

When I fixed her clock and told her “That will be $10, please,” She came back with “Charge it!” Or when I cut her hair and said “You look like a million dollars!,” her quick response was “Without the zeros.”

Not long before she died, I told her that her situation was Y2K incompatible because her gravestone read 19 – – , and that if she lived to the year 2000, she would have a problem.   Ruby gave that little smile, and told me “I’ve got worse problems than that, and anyway, I think that is more your problem than mine.”

As a young child, Ruby had perfect attendance for a long period of time in Sunday School and Church.   In later years, she had a perception that her simplicity didn’t fit in, and didn’t attend Church much, but seemed to always live according to Christian principles, and approached life with a deep faith that just seemed to be a part of her.

To the end of her life, she seemed to always be thinking of others, and was amazingly generous with her caregivers. She rarely complained when we went to see her, and when we would leave for a week or two on vacation, she never gave us a guilt trip, but always simply said “you have a good time.”

Ruby once said that an uncle had told her as a child that she was made out of “rags, tags, and old paper bags,” and, in a very real sense, she never pretended to be made of anything much more fancy. She never put on airs. What you saw was what you got. She was Ruby.

But she had a special way, a depth of character, a simplicity, a way of relating to us that we will never forget.

We all know that she was made from very high quality stuff, and we love her very much.

Phares Glyn O’Daffer, January 4, 2000