This is a short piece written by my mother about her sister, my Aunt Irene. They came from a very large sharecropping family. Mama Carr, my grandmother, had a total of 11 children, two of which died at a very young age, of the remaining nine, only one was a son, Paul Henry Carr. I have written of him before as he died in WWII, and he is remembered as one of the many heroes of that global conflict.
My sister Irene was fifteen years old when I was born. My mother was in her 40’s and had quite a rough time, both with the birth and for a few weeks afterward. As my two oldest sisters were already married and out of the home, it fell to Irene to assume primary responsibility for my care. I was the last of eleven children and the ninth daughter, so I guess my mother had run out of girls’ names or else was too ill to think about it. Anyway, Irene not only took care of me she also gave me my name. She has told me that I cried almost constantly the first two or three weeks of my life. I imagine that it was probably because I was not getting sufficient nourishment from Mama, but to a fifteen year old it was a heavy burden. She also said that there were a few times when she felt like throwing me out in the yard, but she restrained herself, and continued to rock me and do the best she could.
I remember visiting Irene in Tulsa several times when I was a child. For a little country girl that was a big deal. She bought me my first permanent and my first ‘store bought’ dress. Later, in my late teens, it was while visiting her in Corpus Christi, Texas, that I met a handsome sailor named David Rush, my husband to be. So you see, in a way, I got not only my first name, but also my last name because of her.
Years went by. I was married and living in Fredericksburg, Virginia. By then, I had three little boys and was expecting my fourth. My husband was on assignment in the South Pacific area. I thought that I had a sitter all lined up to stay with the three boys while I was in the hospital, but a few days before my due date, my sitter called to say that she was ill and could not come. In tears, I called Irene and told her my desperate situation. She had pity on me, and with Perry, her two year old in tow, took a train and came to my rescue. God in His infinite wisdom knew in advance that I would need family; because, while she was there, we received word that our mother was in the hospital seriously ill from a series of strokes. If Irene had not come, I would not have had any family with me during this very difficult time. With a brand new baby and three little ones under seven years of age, travel to see Mama was out of the question.
As time went by, my sisters and I lived in several different states and countries. We kept in touch with a ‘round-robin’ letter (this was long before the internet). My sister Peggy updated the address list (I will have to admit that ours changed most often) and kept it on a separate piece of paper. One time she cut a headline from a newspaper article and taped it across the top of the page of names and addresses. It read “NOT A WEAK SISTER IN THE BUNCH”.
I think our husbands would all agree with the headline but not always with admiration. They sometimes lump us all together with titles such as ‘you sisters’ or ‘the Carr girls’ using such descriptive adjectives as opinionated, stubborn, long headed and several others that I won’t mention. I will have to admit that they are mostly truthful descriptions, but so are the words trustworthy, loyal, loving and faithful. Seven of us have celebrated our fiftieth wedding anniversary with our husbands. The reason all eight did not was due to the death of a spouse.
During our scattered days, when we came back to Oklahoma, we would try to plan our trips so that we sisters would all be here at the same time. All of us stayed with Mama. We would put quilts on the floor to make ‘pallets’ for the kids with the adults finding beds, including roll-away beds, as best we could. We have had as many as twenty-five people sleeping there. Of course, that does not include all the sisters and families who lived in the area and just came to visit and went home to sleep. That way we were all together, catching up on each other’s lives and giving the cousins opportunity to get to know each other. Mama always seemed to enjoy it but, if she did not, she never let us know. Irene never missed a year. Family was very important to her and remained so all her life.
One by one, we migrated back to Oklahoma. Some came after retirement and some because of job changes, until only one sister remains out of state, Lucille, in Corpus Christi, Texas. She and Irene had both lived in Corpus Christi for many years and had forged an extra strong bond with each other, which they maintained both by visits and by telephone until the end.
In 1982, just a few short days after Irene buried her oldest son, she went with the rest of us sisters to Seattle, Washington for the christening of the U.S. Naval ship named for our brother, Paul, who had died a hero in WWII. I shared a room with Irene during this trip so I know how hard it was on her, both physically and emotionally. It took great courage to make the trip. However, she felt very strongly that all eight sisters should be there for this honor to our brother. Seeing the ship christened, getting to meet many of our brother’s shipmates and hearing them tell of the events surrounding his death made her feel that the trip was well worth the emotional cost.
When Irene and Sam moved to Muskogee, Oklahoma upon his retirement, she designed her home here with family gatherings in mind. They put in a swimming pool to attract the young people and to give them something to do while the ‘old folks’ visited and reminisced; they also had plenty of eating places both inside and outside. She was never happier than when she could host a big family gathering. I remember one with over a hundred people.
The last big family get together at her house was on the ninetieth birthday of our sister, Tressye. Around eighty or so attended and we had our usual ‘sister picture’ taken. We always tried to get a picture of all eight of us together, and someone would always say, “Yes, it may be the last time,” with all of us secretly hoping that it was not, but this time it was.
God has truly blessed ‘the sisters’ with long life, and with beautiful healthy children and grandchildren. Irene loved every one of them, knew the birthdays of most of them, taught many of them how to swim, and accepted and welcomed each one into her home without reservation, warts and all.
The best thing of all is that we are not only sisters by birth but that we are sisters by new birth and so we shall be sisters-in-Christ throughout all eternity. Irene has just gone on ahead to plan the celebration!
‘Nuff said, no need of comments from me.
It’s interesting how similar your mom’s life was to mine. Your mom was a good writer. Did she write other things?