I never really got to know my Mom. I probably only spent twenty of my eighty years with her. And during those years, she was just my Mom. That probably sounds foolish. I never really had much "quality" time with her. Just she and I sitting and talking. My Dad spent some time in a nursing home, we got to talk then, and I got to know him better, but never had that opportunity with my Mom.
I think it was 1971 or so, got a call, "Mom has died." That was it. I have a lot of food memories of her, she was a great Mom, got me out of more than one "jam," so to speak. Got the car keys back for me on a couple of occasions when Dad had taken them away. She probably did more of that than I am aware of.
She was a PK, a "Preachers Kid." James Shannon was probably a pretty strict Father, and she had a wonderful Mother. Unfortunately, I never knew either of them, nor my Dads, never knew a Grandparent. I regret that too, no Grandparents. She had a Sister, Eva Leah and a Brother, Orrie, I never knew him. Eva and Mom had many stories to tell of their childhood, and being a Preachers Kid.
My Mom's favorite color was blue, she loved "good times" when the family was all together, she loved Christmas and holidays, had appropriate decorations for each one. Her birthday was December 18. The day all the decorations were brought down from the attic, the tree was purchased, and decorated in our living room. I doubt that we did much to honor her birthday, the anticipation of Christmas and putting up the tree was the importance of the day. Probably didn't even wish her a Happy Birthday, just, let's trim the tree.
I imagine she was a perfect Doctors wife. She held babies in Dad's office, for the Rabbi to, well, you know. The Rabbi did the "whacking," Dad just supervised. If Dad wasn't around and a patient needed help, Mom knew what to do. I don't recall her ever complaining about anything, never heard an argument between them. Never her Mom say a "bad" word. She loved jokes, but only clean ones.
Having home and doctors office together, she knew all the ways you could die, get hurt or get sick, she had seen it all. "Billy Badger choked to death, eating peanuts by throwing them up in the air and catching them in his mouth." In those days, Dad's office was an emergency room, you didn't run to the hospital, you wen to see "Old Doc." And Mom, I guess, in the hospital terms of today, was the "Triage" nurse. I imagine she made many such decisions.
When Dad retired from practice, he was with Ohio Medical Indemnity, Blue Cross. They gave him a car and an assistant, Nelson, and wanted him to speak, around the State to the medical groups and the doctors, begging, and imploring them to not "abuse" the new insurance programs. On one occasions, they were going to a meeting, somewhere, and his assistant was driving, Mom went along. After some time, driving, my Mom, sitting in the back seat, calmly mentioned, "I noticed that there aren't as many bastards on the road when Nelson drives."
That was Jessie, been many years, but she is missed and thought of often.
