My mother, Mary K. (G-75-4) loved a good laugh or a good time. Her sunny disposition netted her a wide field of admirers. Sometimes, when someone took pictures, she would mug for the camera. She might strike a pose or be caught in the midst of a little dance step. Her sense of fun was not confined to outsiders. We had plenty of fun at home, too. It was not at all unusual for her to enter a room by doing a high kick in the doorway, satisfying herself that she was still limber enough to kick the top of the doorway.

Sometimes when one of her children would tell her of some tribulation it was not out of character for her to suddenly bend over and touch her hands to the floor. We always wondered if this was to assure herself that she was indeed still limber or a signal to speed up the story. We also grew used to her singing in a loud voice (regrettably, off key) as she entered a room or stopping in front of a mirror and demanding “Who’s that old woman? This was said as she pulled an ugly face.

She livened up any party she attended and was always the center of attention. However, she saw to it that all were included in the fun. If she saw someone sitting off by oneself, she made it a point to draw that person into whatever was happening. I used to marvel that she could keep this level of energy up even through the dark days of World War II when she sometimes worked seven days a week at a nearby army camp.

Now she was not without one flaw. She could not tell a joke. My father was a raconteur of the highest order, who could tell a story that held his audience spellbound and wanting more. When Mother attempted to tell a story she got caught up in the telling and sometimes started laughing long before the punch line, or she would tell the punch line first and then make up some nonsense to cover her error, which of course made no sense at all and she would start laughing. Her audience was so taken with her laughter that they laughed heartily at all her jokes. Now I ask you, was that a flaw????