Repressed Voice



She couldn’t. She had so much to say, but she had no voice of her own. She was such a product of her Depression era, World War II young adulthood, stifling small town New England culture of French Canuck background, that she rarely stated her opinion about anything. Her philosophy came straight from Thumper – remember? Bambi’s friend? “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.” Nice. That was one of her constant vocabulary words.

She only did two things strictly for her own purposes in her entire life – went to library school, and had me. The rest of her life, she was a dutiful daughter, sister, military wife, employee, mother and housewife.

We couldn’t be more different, nor more alike. From my Aquarius mother, who loved everybody, I learned about being friendly. From my librarian mother, I learned how to read and write before I ever saw the inside of a school building.

I went off on tangents afforded by the excesses and expansiveness of my generation, and she remained true to hers, until her world became smaller and smaller as she lay dying of cancer. She went into a coma a month before she died. Where did she go? Not of this world, nor into the next. And then miraculously, she came back, intact, still wonderful Mom, with all of her memories and her corny jokes. She was with us for five days until she truly made the transition to the other side. What a gift.

She crosses my mind continuously, and sometimes even crosses my path. The last time I felt her presence was Tuesday, November 6, 2012 when she hovered over me in the voting booth. I felt like she was helping to pull strings from her side.

So – please ignore the pundits and political talking heads. I know who helped save this election from going to the dark side. My Mom – in the one place in her entire life where she was free to give voice to her opinions – in the privacy of a voting booth.

2 Responses to Repressed Voice

  1. Cousin Linda May 25, 2015 at 10:47 am #

    Morning Nancy, once again you brought tears to my eyes, our moms were wonderful, weren’t they. Such great memories and to feel them with us is a feeling you can only know if experienced. Having an open mind and heart is a gift to carry to the next generation. Love ya

  2. N.R.G. June 6, 2015 at 10:19 pm #

    We were lucky to have the Moms we did, and then to have each as Aunties, too. There were women shaped by their times. We’re just lucky we had more options in our generation. And, yes – even though they’re both gone, we were so fortunate to have all those wonderful memories with them. So many people go through life without that wellspring of love that we experienced.

Designed and built by Timper Arts, LLC