The Importance of moms! Growing up there are a lot of things I recall about my mother, some good, some not so good, but all educational wile filled with love. I remember for some reason more about my early years, age nine to be precise, then just about any other time of my life. As I grow older, and my mind is not as sharp, if it ever was, as it used to be, the story of this old veteran, that is embedded in my mind revolves around the life of a nine year old boy who lived in Fort Worth Texas. Oh, those were years that will never leave my mind for some reason, probably will get there when they close the coffin lid on me as my life comes to a close.
What struck me most during those young years was how much my mother influenced my life, more than any other age I am certain. As a catholic, I was schooled at St. Alice Catholic School. I know it is an old cliche but I really did walk to school, and it really was about three miles from where we lived. We only had one car, and my dad drove that to work, he was then a young Air Force Captain who was gone more than he was there, so guess who did most of the child care those days. At that time, there was only my older sister, Judy, and my younger brother Michael, and myself, a bit of a loaner, even with Judy and Mike to try and destroy any sense of self that I would love to have had. Too overcome my being entrapped playing only with my family, I developed my first real friendship that I would have, Dan Capers, another nine year old who only wanted adventure.
Well There are far to many stories I could tell about Dan and I, but this is not really a story about us, it is about my mother, and mothers like her during the 50's. While Dan and I thought the world revolved around us, it did not take long to learn that actually it was our mothers who made our world what it would become, and no one else. Caring for three fairly wild, but decent children was not an easy thing for a mother who's husband spent most of his career, all 33 years plus, being the good officer who's mistress was the Air Force, his whole life was the military as he started out early in life in the Army.
My Dad ran away from home at 16 and lied about his age and enlisted into the Army, becoming one of the youngest First Sergeants in Army at the time. His motto was "If the army wanted you to have a wife, they would have issued you one". Well, then he met Mom, Ruth Della Beggs, who at an equally young age when they met, (she would never tell any of us how old she was when she married my father, but from pictures we saw, she was in there late teens).
Again, I am off subject, It's OK, I'm getting old and on a lot of medications, so I have an excuse. The point I really am trying desperately trying to get to is how my mother sacrificed her early years having babies, and raising them. She never complained about not having a life outside raising us young "military brats" as we were more known as by the general public, yet somehow, I feel that we were the lucky ones, as being in a military family, the one thing we kids learned very fast, was discipline.
You would think that it would be our dad that was the disciplinarian, but it was not, it was "Mom"! Yep, when it came to ensuring that we grew up saying yes sir and no sir, and yes mam and no mam, it was our mom who dictated the rules of life, and the backbone of our family. Oh, Dad was not someone you wanted to have angry at you, but when he was home, he wanted to spend all his time giving us good memories, like camping and hiking, just being with us was enough for him. As structured as he was once he put on that uniform and marched proudly out to the 1955 Plymouth station wagon as he went off to Carswell Air Force Base to be the good soldier that he was, and remained to be all 33 plus years of service. His whole endeavor at home was to prepare his sons and if he could his daughters, yes, we would later have another sister named Gina, for military service.
At it was, only the four sons would enlist, three of us in the Army Security Agency (a branch of Intelligence) and one would stray and join the Navy. Only the U.S. Marines would not be represented by one of the Gregory family, who knows, if we had just one more brother, he would probably have been a Marine, who knows.
Again, I digress! I am trying desperately to tell you about the strengths of a marries single mother, who without complaint, that I can recall, did her "duty" as a mother, and give us more than she will ever know, especially since she is now sharing a burial spot at Arlington National Cemetery. My Mom passed away in 1995, and my Father passed away in 2007, My younger brother Mike (all three of my brothers were younger than I, which is important as I go on) passed away, not long after 9/11, to be exact, 4:25 PM, Arizona time, October 25th, 2001. He was still involved with the intelligence community, actively as a civilian, contracted to them in the equipment test field, and that is about all I will say about that.
If you want to learn about this wonderful human being, Google him by typing in his name "LTC Michael James Gregory," read what is said about him, at the Arlington National Cemetery site. It was I, although our whole family was present, that had to make the decision to take him off life support, a task only made a little more digestible by the fact we had discussed this on more than one occasion (My brother and I), and we both agreed, should the time come, "Pull the Plug"! (Obama would just love us for that!) It now only angers me more as the realness of that task became even more real for me when the doctor came in and said, "Mr Gregory, you really should make a decision, there is no brain activity and five days have passed now. My who family turned to me and all said, you make it, we can't do it. Well, it was only the strength that my mother gave me during her life that gave me that ability to do what I thought would be the most difficult thing I would ever have to do. How wrong I would be, I found that out when my son, Wayne Michael Gregory, a School teacher who was gifted in so many ways, blessed by God, and loved by all who knew him. Again, it was my mother's strength, even though she had long been buried at Arlington National Cemetery, that would allow me to give courage to be with his wife, Stacey, while he passed. I never wanted my children, or their spouses, see me shed tears, or cry like a baby, as together we held hands over his heart as he left this world and passed into one where God would provide him the peace, as a gifted child growing up, would never really know, as he was always in conflict with his own emotions trying to determine where he fit in, in this world. Before he passed, I sent his mother (my wonderful and loving wife) and his older brother, who returned from Iraq or somewhere over there, to be with him, home, as I knew what was coming and what I did not want them to have as their last memories of this very special and wonderful Christian and human being. I was glad I did as it is something that continues to haunt me every day. It was my mother's strength, even in her death that gave me strength to be with my son at his passing. It was the strength of my wife, my loving, caring and beautiful wife, who finished the job of giving me courage to do what I dreaded and feared more than I will ever let on with my wife, as she is still alive and is my strength in just about everything I do now.
Mom's, how do they do it? How do they give birth, in turn giving life (only though the grace of God) to a small living, breathing, beautiful child, a child that will grow into whoever my wife, and with little help from me, would grow into the special person he did. Like my father, I had a mistress, the Untied States Army Security Agency, would spend more time doing my job, than giving my wonderful wife the time and/or attention, that she needed. She followed me all over the world. I met and married her in England, she was only 17 years old, and I was only 21. Because of my security clearance I could not stay in England and Val and I went to my next assignment, Ellefisis Greece, not far from Athens, so naturally we thought it was going to be the assignment of a life time. Before I even got started I was volunteering to go to Viet Nam, to be with my fellow soldiers, who I felt could help in some way, with my skills of the Intelligence background. How wrong I would be when I eventually went to my father, who by now was working with the Air Force IG team out of Washington DC. Well, that feeling of what a wonderful assignment soon ended with the overthrow of HM King Constantine, I was held at Ellefisis, as I watched the Greek Army chase the Greek Air Force back and forth over the mountain where we were protecting very sensitive "things". Only after my five requests to be assigned to a combat unit in Viet Nam, with a little help from my father, I finally got my long awaited assignment to Viet Nam. I never thought about what my young wife, now 19 years old, would have to go through to obtain a visa to enter the Untied States of America, and how she would be treated boy our government officials, as she went through the process, with us only having days to obtain the necessary paperwork to get the visa. The medical examinations, the questioning by the U.S. Embassy consulates who badgered her, and I think now about how our government wants to legalize the Illegal's now in our country, and give them citizenship, just like that, nothing to go through but some politician knowing that they might get their vote by doing this!
I can't even begin to tell you the anger I feel when I know that this young English girl who left her home to follow me, with out ever once questioning me what I wanted her to do, just did what she felt a good wife should do. I never even thought to ask my mom or dad if she could stay at their home, which to all of us siblings considered home as a matter of fact. I just brought her home, left her there with our young son, Milton III, only a month old and poor Val not knowing what she was getting into, just following my request to be there. She lived at our home in Hayward California, and while I was in Viet Nam, moved with our family to Fremont California. My mom asked Val to go to citizenship school at Hayward Junior college to prepare for her citizenship once I returned. Well, after returning, we moved to Augusta Georgia and she went to the court house where a judge questioned her for over an hour, before granting her citizenship. Well, my poor wife, again following my request to join me in the wilds of East Africa, my next assignment would be Asmara Ethiopia, where she would be chased by the ELF, "Ethiopian Liberation Front", shot at, had spears tossed at her by very wild Ethiopians, who in some villages were not fans of we Americans.
Val accepted the many challenges of living outside an American compound, and lived amongst the native population of Ethiopians, who actually treated us with great respect and as part of their community family. The droughts that they endured were incredible and we, as a family, (My brother Mike, who I was with when he passed later on in life) managed to live off of five gallons of drinking water a week, and 200 gallons of dirty water put in a tank on the roof of our house, once a month, was to provide water to wash, do the dishes and flush the toilet we had. Val, still relatively young, endured what ever I put her in, never complaining, only doing what a mom does best, raise her family, which increased by another son, Wayne, our little genius who entered this world at 10 Lbs.
I think this made us a very international family. My wife of 43 years, born in Harrogate England, Milt III, born in Ankara Turkey (While we were stationed in Greece), he was born during a little thing called the 7 day war in the middle East, and I was born in California, none of us born on the same continent. Amazing, at least it is to me. Do ya think my poor wife might have a real case to have stayed in England and not go through all what she did, not Val, she never complained, never made me feel anything but loved. As a mom, she raised her two boys with values, values that she just knew, she had a natural goodness about her, a goodness that set the bar for my two sons, and even me to try and too equal, never could be reached by any of us then, and the remainder of us to this day. She was and is a mom, as my mom, one who believed in the good in America, something she took very serious, her citizenship. After all, she gave up her's to become an American, and she is more American than many I have observed while I have lived in the Untied States.
I would have to write a book to tell you all that my mom, and my wife, also a mom, have meant to me, my children, and all my mom's grandchildren, and now our grandchildren. Val has now left me, as I did her for years, to spend time with Wayne's widow, Stacey, who had two daughters of her own, and we see as our own. Then came Sarah, who is at this moment, spending the weekend with Val and I. She is five years old and my son, her daddy, Wayne, passed when she was only two years old, and yet she knew, she understood, and the sadness was only able to be consoled by her Grandma, Val, a mom who instinctively knew how to generate the kind of love my little Sarah needed at that time in her life. After all, isn't that what mom's do best, console husbands, children, family, and friends. You have to ask, "How do they do it"? I doubt anyone really knows the answer, accept God in heaven, after all, it is God who mad moms so special.
Now I have shard with you some ramblings and a small glimpse into my mom's and my wife's, also a mom, life and what they sacrificed as moms, to make sure that my Dad and I, were loved, felt loved, and knew that we were loved. That we always came first, and they always were willing to be second, as long as they know that their husbands loved them back, and worked to provide a life for them and our children.
It was mostly women who showed up in Washington, mostly women who organize and attend the town and local tea parties, and tea parties state wide. We husbands have a tendency to allow them to be involved, even encourage them to get out there and let the world hear their voices, and God knows they do have a voice, collectively they have a very loud voice. So, after watching Glenn Beck discuss the "Moms" and encouraging them to have a million mom march on Washington, to demonstrate just how angry they are at what our elected officials are doing and/or not doing to solve problems.
It appears our elected officials are corrupting our sacred halls of Congress. Their power is already being felt, having an affect on votes in Washington. Did you ever in you life think that your voice is having a voice as loud as what you have collectively! I, as a 100% disabled Vet, can only sit here in my bed, or power chair, and watch you go, as they say on the wide screen HD TV's today, "Go Girl!" and I echo that thought, Go Girls, we guys will do what we can, but if you really want to know where the power is girls (or ladies) just look in the mirror and you will see the real and very powerful image of where the power is.
It is you, the moms, the Grand Moms, and all you women who have been silent, nervous, wanting to free yourself to get involved, and do it without allowing your children to suffer from your involvement. Just think of what you have handled up to now, and then you will know, you can, and from what I see, you will, be involved, get involved, and stay involved. And, doing all that without letting your children suffer. That is the great thing about all of you, your ability to do more than anyone expects, and still make time for your children and grandchildren. I do believe that the "Mom Movement" is about to explode, and I applaud you all for your attack on is devouring our country, the corruption that is eating the constitution and destroying the freedoms, that makes America so special. I just know that you mom's are taking charge and getting things don. So, again, Go Girls, Go! Mfgjr
What struck me most during those young years was how much my mother influenced my life, more than any other age I am certain. As a catholic, I was schooled at St. Alice Catholic School. I know it is an old cliche but I really did walk to school, and it really was about three miles from where we lived. We only had one car, and my dad drove that to work, he was then a young Air Force Captain who was gone more than he was there, so guess who did most of the child care those days. At that time, there was only my older sister, Judy, and my younger brother Michael, and myself, a bit of a loaner, even with Judy and Mike to try and destroy any sense of self that I would love to have had. Too overcome my being entrapped playing only with my family, I developed my first real friendship that I would have, Dan Capers, another nine year old who only wanted adventure.
Well There are far to many stories I could tell about Dan and I, but this is not really a story about us, it is about my mother, and mothers like her during the 50's. While Dan and I thought the world revolved around us, it did not take long to learn that actually it was our mothers who made our world what it would become, and no one else. Caring for three fairly wild, but decent children was not an easy thing for a mother who's husband spent most of his career, all 33 years plus, being the good officer who's mistress was the Air Force, his whole life was the military as he started out early in life in the Army.
My Dad ran away from home at 16 and lied about his age and enlisted into the Army, becoming one of the youngest First Sergeants in Army at the time. His motto was "If the army wanted you to have a wife, they would have issued you one". Well, then he met Mom, Ruth Della Beggs, who at an equally young age when they met, (she would never tell any of us how old she was when she married my father, but from pictures we saw, she was in there late teens).
Again, I am off subject, It's OK, I'm getting old and on a lot of medications, so I have an excuse. The point I really am trying desperately trying to get to is how my mother sacrificed her early years having babies, and raising them. She never complained about not having a life outside raising us young "military brats" as we were more known as by the general public, yet somehow, I feel that we were the lucky ones, as being in a military family, the one thing we kids learned very fast, was discipline.
You would think that it would be our dad that was the disciplinarian, but it was not, it was "Mom"! Yep, when it came to ensuring that we grew up saying yes sir and no sir, and yes mam and no mam, it was our mom who dictated the rules of life, and the backbone of our family. Oh, Dad was not someone you wanted to have angry at you, but when he was home, he wanted to spend all his time giving us good memories, like camping and hiking, just being with us was enough for him. As structured as he was once he put on that uniform and marched proudly out to the 1955 Plymouth station wagon as he went off to Carswell Air Force Base to be the good soldier that he was, and remained to be all 33 plus years of service. His whole endeavor at home was to prepare his sons and if he could his daughters, yes, we would later have another sister named Gina, for military service.
At it was, only the four sons would enlist, three of us in the Army Security Agency (a branch of Intelligence) and one would stray and join the Navy. Only the U.S. Marines would not be represented by one of the Gregory family, who knows, if we had just one more brother, he would probably have been a Marine, who knows.
Again, I digress! I am trying desperately to tell you about the strengths of a marries single mother, who without complaint, that I can recall, did her "duty" as a mother, and give us more than she will ever know, especially since she is now sharing a burial spot at Arlington National Cemetery. My Mom passed away in 1995, and my Father passed away in 2007, My younger brother Mike (all three of my brothers were younger than I, which is important as I go on) passed away, not long after 9/11, to be exact, 4:25 PM, Arizona time, October 25th, 2001. He was still involved with the intelligence community, actively as a civilian, contracted to them in the equipment test field, and that is about all I will say about that.
If you want to learn about this wonderful human being, Google him by typing in his name "LTC Michael James Gregory," read what is said about him, at the Arlington National Cemetery site. It was I, although our whole family was present, that had to make the decision to take him off life support, a task only made a little more digestible by the fact we had discussed this on more than one occasion (My brother and I), and we both agreed, should the time come, "Pull the Plug"! (Obama would just love us for that!) It now only angers me more as the realness of that task became even more real for me when the doctor came in and said, "Mr Gregory, you really should make a decision, there is no brain activity and five days have passed now. My who family turned to me and all said, you make it, we can't do it. Well, it was only the strength that my mother gave me during her life that gave me that ability to do what I thought would be the most difficult thing I would ever have to do. How wrong I would be, I found that out when my son, Wayne Michael Gregory, a School teacher who was gifted in so many ways, blessed by God, and loved by all who knew him. Again, it was my mother's strength, even though she had long been buried at Arlington National Cemetery, that would allow me to give courage to be with his wife, Stacey, while he passed. I never wanted my children, or their spouses, see me shed tears, or cry like a baby, as together we held hands over his heart as he left this world and passed into one where God would provide him the peace, as a gifted child growing up, would never really know, as he was always in conflict with his own emotions trying to determine where he fit in, in this world. Before he passed, I sent his mother (my wonderful and loving wife) and his older brother, who returned from Iraq or somewhere over there, to be with him, home, as I knew what was coming and what I did not want them to have as their last memories of this very special and wonderful Christian and human being. I was glad I did as it is something that continues to haunt me every day. It was my mother's strength, even in her death that gave me strength to be with my son at his passing. It was the strength of my wife, my loving, caring and beautiful wife, who finished the job of giving me courage to do what I dreaded and feared more than I will ever let on with my wife, as she is still alive and is my strength in just about everything I do now.
Mom's, how do they do it? How do they give birth, in turn giving life (only though the grace of God) to a small living, breathing, beautiful child, a child that will grow into whoever my wife, and with little help from me, would grow into the special person he did. Like my father, I had a mistress, the Untied States Army Security Agency, would spend more time doing my job, than giving my wonderful wife the time and/or attention, that she needed. She followed me all over the world. I met and married her in England, she was only 17 years old, and I was only 21. Because of my security clearance I could not stay in England and Val and I went to my next assignment, Ellefisis Greece, not far from Athens, so naturally we thought it was going to be the assignment of a life time. Before I even got started I was volunteering to go to Viet Nam, to be with my fellow soldiers, who I felt could help in some way, with my skills of the Intelligence background. How wrong I would be when I eventually went to my father, who by now was working with the Air Force IG team out of Washington DC. Well, that feeling of what a wonderful assignment soon ended with the overthrow of HM King Constantine, I was held at Ellefisis, as I watched the Greek Army chase the Greek Air Force back and forth over the mountain where we were protecting very sensitive "things". Only after my five requests to be assigned to a combat unit in Viet Nam, with a little help from my father, I finally got my long awaited assignment to Viet Nam. I never thought about what my young wife, now 19 years old, would have to go through to obtain a visa to enter the Untied States of America, and how she would be treated boy our government officials, as she went through the process, with us only having days to obtain the necessary paperwork to get the visa. The medical examinations, the questioning by the U.S. Embassy consulates who badgered her, and I think now about how our government wants to legalize the Illegal's now in our country, and give them citizenship, just like that, nothing to go through but some politician knowing that they might get their vote by doing this!
I can't even begin to tell you the anger I feel when I know that this young English girl who left her home to follow me, with out ever once questioning me what I wanted her to do, just did what she felt a good wife should do. I never even thought to ask my mom or dad if she could stay at their home, which to all of us siblings considered home as a matter of fact. I just brought her home, left her there with our young son, Milton III, only a month old and poor Val not knowing what she was getting into, just following my request to be there. She lived at our home in Hayward California, and while I was in Viet Nam, moved with our family to Fremont California. My mom asked Val to go to citizenship school at Hayward Junior college to prepare for her citizenship once I returned. Well, after returning, we moved to Augusta Georgia and she went to the court house where a judge questioned her for over an hour, before granting her citizenship. Well, my poor wife, again following my request to join me in the wilds of East Africa, my next assignment would be Asmara Ethiopia, where she would be chased by the ELF, "Ethiopian Liberation Front", shot at, had spears tossed at her by very wild Ethiopians, who in some villages were not fans of we Americans.
Val accepted the many challenges of living outside an American compound, and lived amongst the native population of Ethiopians, who actually treated us with great respect and as part of their community family. The droughts that they endured were incredible and we, as a family, (My brother Mike, who I was with when he passed later on in life) managed to live off of five gallons of drinking water a week, and 200 gallons of dirty water put in a tank on the roof of our house, once a month, was to provide water to wash, do the dishes and flush the toilet we had. Val, still relatively young, endured what ever I put her in, never complaining, only doing what a mom does best, raise her family, which increased by another son, Wayne, our little genius who entered this world at 10 Lbs.
I think this made us a very international family. My wife of 43 years, born in Harrogate England, Milt III, born in Ankara Turkey (While we were stationed in Greece), he was born during a little thing called the 7 day war in the middle East, and I was born in California, none of us born on the same continent. Amazing, at least it is to me. Do ya think my poor wife might have a real case to have stayed in England and not go through all what she did, not Val, she never complained, never made me feel anything but loved. As a mom, she raised her two boys with values, values that she just knew, she had a natural goodness about her, a goodness that set the bar for my two sons, and even me to try and too equal, never could be reached by any of us then, and the remainder of us to this day. She was and is a mom, as my mom, one who believed in the good in America, something she took very serious, her citizenship. After all, she gave up her's to become an American, and she is more American than many I have observed while I have lived in the Untied States.
I would have to write a book to tell you all that my mom, and my wife, also a mom, have meant to me, my children, and all my mom's grandchildren, and now our grandchildren. Val has now left me, as I did her for years, to spend time with Wayne's widow, Stacey, who had two daughters of her own, and we see as our own. Then came Sarah, who is at this moment, spending the weekend with Val and I. She is five years old and my son, her daddy, Wayne, passed when she was only two years old, and yet she knew, she understood, and the sadness was only able to be consoled by her Grandma, Val, a mom who instinctively knew how to generate the kind of love my little Sarah needed at that time in her life. After all, isn't that what mom's do best, console husbands, children, family, and friends. You have to ask, "How do they do it"? I doubt anyone really knows the answer, accept God in heaven, after all, it is God who mad moms so special.
Now I have shard with you some ramblings and a small glimpse into my mom's and my wife's, also a mom, life and what they sacrificed as moms, to make sure that my Dad and I, were loved, felt loved, and knew that we were loved. That we always came first, and they always were willing to be second, as long as they know that their husbands loved them back, and worked to provide a life for them and our children.
It was mostly women who showed up in Washington, mostly women who organize and attend the town and local tea parties, and tea parties state wide. We husbands have a tendency to allow them to be involved, even encourage them to get out there and let the world hear their voices, and God knows they do have a voice, collectively they have a very loud voice. So, after watching Glenn Beck discuss the "Moms" and encouraging them to have a million mom march on Washington, to demonstrate just how angry they are at what our elected officials are doing and/or not doing to solve problems.
It appears our elected officials are corrupting our sacred halls of Congress. Their power is already being felt, having an affect on votes in Washington. Did you ever in you life think that your voice is having a voice as loud as what you have collectively! I, as a 100% disabled Vet, can only sit here in my bed, or power chair, and watch you go, as they say on the wide screen HD TV's today, "Go Girl!" and I echo that thought, Go Girls, we guys will do what we can, but if you really want to know where the power is girls (or ladies) just look in the mirror and you will see the real and very powerful image of where the power is.
It is you, the moms, the Grand Moms, and all you women who have been silent, nervous, wanting to free yourself to get involved, and do it without allowing your children to suffer from your involvement. Just think of what you have handled up to now, and then you will know, you can, and from what I see, you will, be involved, get involved, and stay involved. And, doing all that without letting your children suffer. That is the great thing about all of you, your ability to do more than anyone expects, and still make time for your children and grandchildren. I do believe that the "Mom Movement" is about to explode, and I applaud you all for your attack on is devouring our country, the corruption that is eating the constitution and destroying the freedoms, that makes America so special. I just know that you mom's are taking charge and getting things don. So, again, Go Girls, Go! Mfgjr
No comments:
Post a Comment