A tribute to my mom as she celebrates her eighth decade

This past Friday evening my family gathered at the Hubbell House in Mantorville, MN to celebrate my mom’s 80^th birthday.  The date of her birthday is in January.  She’ll be in Arizona with my dad then, so my family celebrated her birthday early.

I can’t help but share some of her story as she closes in on completing the eighth decade of life.  Here’s to you Jackie (Jacqueline) Ann Moore! 

She grew up on a small dairy farm outside of Mantorville.  As a child she walked about a mile or so to a one-room school house.  She’s the oldest of three.  She was surrounded by family on both her mom and dad’s side.

She met my dad at Mankato State, got her degree in elementary education, got married and began her life as an elementary teacher in Paullina, Iowa.  Female teachers couldn’t teach while being pregnant (someone explain the logic of that), so she stayed home to be with Pam, my younger sister, and me.

My dad took a teaching job at the Junior College in Worthington, so my family moved there.  Her life revolved around faith, family, friends, and the community.  It was a good life.

The two of them decided to move to Kansas City as my dad took a sabbatical in the early 1970s to help out Cross-Lines, a social service agency in the inner-city.  One of her many tasks was to be in charge of an emergency food shelf.  I remember driving with her to take food to people living in what we called, “the projects.”  She was a long way from the rural life of Mantorville. 

She went back to school when we came back from Kansas City to get more education.  She taught children with learning disabilities in the Worthington School District until she retired.

I’ve said often that the best way to be a parent is to have a strong marriage.  She has successfully traveled that journey with love for my dad for the past 57 years.  I don’t remember seeing my parents arguing until I was in college.  Their marriage was like the quality of the prairie grass—deep-rooted, strong, and connected.

As a parent I never questioned her love for me.  If someone had asked me as a child if my mom loved me I wouldn’t have understood the question.  I didn’t know it was possible for a parent not to love their children.  She gave my sister and I the freedom to be ourselves.  When we expressed interest in something she and my dad would do all they could to help us be successful.   

And she showed up.  I can’t remember her or my dad ever missing a music concert, sporting event or any other ceremony that involved my sister and me.

Her parenting touch naturally moved into her being a grandparent.  This past Friday her grandchildren shared stories of “Grandma camp.”  Every year for a number of years she and my dad would take their four grandkids and go on an adventure.  On Friday we heard stories of adventures to the headwaters of the Mississippi River, going to the zoo in Omaha, traveling to Missouri to visit a college, and camping in the backyard of their home. 

If I was limited to one word to describe my mom that word would be “determined.”  That quality came out in a family story that I’ve shared often.  A local builder wanted to put apartments in the neighborhood where my family lived.  Since our neighborhood was filled with kids my mom was concerned about the amount of traffic that would ensue.  She went by herself to talk to the City Council about her concerns.  I remember her coming home from that meeting.  “I don’t think I made any friends tonight,” she said.  She had told the men on the City Council what she thought.  The editor of the local newspaper didn’t like that she was questioning what was happening.  She and my dad owned apartments in another part of town.  The headline of the paper read something like, “apartment owner questioned apartments.”  The patriarchy of the town wasn’t pleased with this determined woman—my mom. 

Her example of determination far outlasted the response of the men of Worthington.

I know I can speak for my sister in saying it’s a privilege to have you as our mom, Jaqueline Ann Moore.  We love you!  Thanks for being everything that two children would ever need!

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