She was nearly a child bride,
\nMarried on her 17th birthday, he was not quite 18.
\nA city girl, raised in the heart of the depression years
\nLearning to “make do” in every area of her life.
\nBrave, feisty, stunningly beautiful – her daddy’s thorn.<\/p>\n
Two feet of snow on a February day could not deter
\nThat old car from delivering it’s precious cargo to her
\nHandsome lover waiting at the church,
\nTall, lean and eager, a survivor in the truest sense.
\nThis would be the start of a life filled with challenges and angst.<\/p>\n
Home from the war, husband now must find work \u2013
\nParenthood lay at their doorstep.
\nWith their firstborn struggling for life at three months,
\nLife in the city became too difficult and a return to
\nFarm life, much as he hated it, was a must to survive.<\/p>\n
Loving the country life, this young bride thrived in the
\nLove of sisters she never had. Brothers – not so much.
\nA woman of courage, with a fire in her eyes when
\nThe world around her put she and her child in danger.
\nShe’d do what was necessary to feed and warm them.<\/p>\n
That determination and fire became her hallmark
\nAs she and her somewhat wild man went on to build
\nA legacy and a family of six offspring.
\nMarriage that lasts fifty-three years isn’t always golden,
\nTheirs was no exception.<\/p>\n
There is so much more to tell, but there comes another day.
\nMy purpose on this page is merely to humbly say
\nI’m proud to be her daughter, and gratitude seems too little
\na word to honor this, my mother.
\nShe’s 87 now and he’s gone on ahead, but missing dad seems lesser now,
\nShe’s my hero yet.<\/p>\n
I love you Mom, thank you for the sacrifices you made along the way.<\/p>\n
Dedicated to Jeanette Ryan – a woman of true grit and substance.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
She was nearly a child bride, Married on her 17th birthday, he was not quite 18. A city girl, raised in the heart of the depression years Learning to “make do” in every area of her life. Brave, feisty, stunningly beautiful – her daddy’s thorn….<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":880,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[13],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-23776","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-miscellaneous"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/23776","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/880"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=23776"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/23776\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":80769,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/23776\/revisions\/80769"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=23776"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=23776"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=23776"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}