A Mother's Memory

-->

All day long, the young teacher anxiously went about her duties collecting milk money, setting out paper and crayons as she introduced a new group of kindergarten students to all that was before them in the coming school year. However, the teacher’s mind was elsewhere, a short drive away with her 7-month-old baby boy at a babysitter’s house for his first day. That morning the young teacher/mom had reluctantly left her son with a seasoned babysitter with whom she trusted. However, the teacher’s mind returned to her son all day long with questions: Would he be okay, would he take his nap, will he cry, would the babysitter pay enough attention to him while also watching four pre-k children? The young mother resisted the urge to phone the babysitter to see how their day was going.  As an occasional lump came to her chest and she thought about her son, she fought back tears throughout her day. The teacher realized 22 five-year-old students had been left by their parents and also required her full attention. “I will just have to trust that Jason is okay and make it through this day”, she thought. 

In 1977, I was a 24-year old mother and kindergarten teacher. My husband, Kim, was a high school theater arts teacher. Our plan had been for me to stay home with Jason and not teach that year. The strain of paying bills led me to return to work. Leaving Jason that first anxious day of school so I could return to work made for a stressful day. At the end of the day, I rushed back to Baytown from Highland as fast as I could.  As I approached a traffic light and yellow turned red, I proceeded down the road and a policeman pulled me over to discuss running red lights. I began to cry and attempted to explain that I had left my 7-month old baby boy with a new baby sitter for the first time and was anxious to get back to him.  I guess the policemen had pity on this new mom because he let me off with a warning to drive safely.

Soon after I left the police encounter, all my fears were squelched as I saw Jason in the capable hands of Aunt BeBe, as her “kids” affectionately knew her. She gave me a glowing report of his day while he happily smiled at me. We really loved Aunt BeBe and could see her apparent love for all the kids in her care. Our second son, Kyle, would also stay with Aunt BeBe up until the year Jason was 5 years old. After which we found another lady to watch our brood of little boys who grew in number with the birth of son number three, Ryan, and Jason entered kindergarten.

Now, thirty-six years later, Dr. Jason Kelly Martin began this school year as the Clinical Director of the Community Life Center, and Assistant Professor of Counseling at the University of Mary-Hardin Baylor in Belton. My interest about whether he is having a good day or what he is doing still pops into my thoughts, but of course I trust he is doing fine. Accomplished in his field of study alongside being a wonderful husband and dad, Jason makes my heart swell with love and pride to be his parent.

All of my sons make me proud. It has and continues to be a fun ride with the boys, so my motto remains as always, There is never a dull moment. Wherever their lives take them, I am more than willing to be part of the journey.

Jason, Ryan, Kyle about 1984

Ryan, Kyle, Jason, summer 2013

Memorial Day, 2013

Daddy, E. L. "Jiggs" Ritchey

Today my husband gets a day off from teaching school along with millions of other people in our country. Memorial Day is a day to remember the people who have served and are presently serving in our armed forces. What a daunting task! To be in the military to risk one's own life and give up the comforts of home is unthinkable to me. I am grateful to all of the men and women serving at home and abroad to protect us from enemies who wish us harm.

God bless all of the armed forces who have gone to war over the years. Fighting, dying doesn't seem right to me, but I was not ever in any position to fight. I'm neither strong nor brave. My dad and his 3 brothers all went to war back in the 1940's. One of those brothers was lost after surviving the battle at Midway when his aircraft went down somewhere in the Pacific only six weeks later. My grandfather suited up for WWI. Those were wars before my time.

Johnny E. Ritchey & Me

Two years after I was born, the Vietnam War broke out in 1955. Later, in about '62 or '63, my brother, Johnny, was drafted and enlisted in the Army. He was only 20 or 21 years old. I would have been about 10 or 11 years old at the time and I recall being scared for my brother leaving home and his newlywed to go off to training where we were not supposed to correspond with him.

Johnny often went hunting with our granddad and was really good with a rifle. He was also very smart and had graduated from high school in the top 10 of his class. He received a scholarship to Lamar University to pursue an engineering degree. He completed 2 years of college, then dropped out to make a living for he and his newlywed. That was when he was drafted. As long as he was in school, he could be exempt from the draft. Dropping out of school and his number coming up sent him further away from home.

Johnny achieved the rank of captain and was in charge of a platoon at one of his boot camps. He once told me a story of a time when he was awaken by a private bursting into his barracks yelling that one of his men was drunk (or on drugs) shouting and waving a gun around. Johnny said he ran out and had to wrestle the crazed man to the ground putting him in a head-lock. He told me the incident happened fast and really scared him. With all that adrenaline pumping through his veins at the time, he had not noticed the wild man turning purple in the face until another private told him. He immediately let go of his grip so the soldier could breath again, almost killing the man. War didn't just happen on the battle fields. As captain of his platoon, he told of another guy who was terrible at using a syringe during their medic training. No one wanted to be his partner and get stuck by that guy, so Johnny volunteered. Ouch!

From Fort Poke, Louisiana, he flew to Japan. From there, a large percentage of the soldiers were sent to Vietnam to fight. He was spared from the 80 sent and got to stay in Japan where he worked with the medics, and had other duties I don't know about. I do know he drove a bus and picked up wounded who were flown to a hospital in Japan from Vietnam.

As a young teenager, I remember those months we didn't hear from Johnny and we wondered if he was dead or alive. I remember being scared that my brother might be hurt. We didn't even know if he was still in Japan. After waiting for many months, my dad got information when he corresponded with Johnny's superior. I believe that Johnny was ordered to write home. He was still stationed in Japan at the time. As I look back I believe he was homesick, sad and depressed. His marriage of 2 years was failing back home, he didn't want to be there in the Army, he wanted to be home working on his marriage. It was hard on a new marriage to be so far away in a foreign country during war times.

My brother never told me about what must have been the horrors of the wounded he picked up on the bus he drove or how they had suffered in the killing fields. Soldiers don't want to talk about the blood or their buddies who were mangled or never returned. The stories I told here are only a few of what Johnny ever told me about the Army. I'm certain to have my facts a bit confused, but that is how I remember it. I never even saw a picture of Johnny in uniform. I guess there is one somewhere, I just never saw it. There was a lot I would ask Johnny today if he were still alive.

God bless those men and women who enlisted either willingly or not, who served so we can have a free America.

What Now?

The time is just before noon and here I am again, at home, still in my pajamas on the first day after completing yet another job. Starting a month ago, I have tested 47 elementary students ranging in ages from 5-11 years old. Spring Break came just before the last week of testing providing obligation-free time away.

As the dust is settling, so to speak, from the end of another job, I am once again faced with "what now"? What will I do next to supplement our income, or afford happy anticipation of waking each morning to the day's activities. Limbo is not a state I cherish, as I am one who respects knowledge of what waits around the corner. I do not like the unknown. In fact surprises scare me. 

Take for example, my brother Richard. He is three years my senior and as young siblings, we were close enough in age to annoy each other. Unfortunately for me, this little sister spooked easily. Richard took great personal pleasure and entertainment in frightening me. Our childhood home sat on the corner of Llano and Holland Avenues in Port Neches, TX. A unique feature of the house was a small closet-sized enclosed back porch. A sort of dropping ground for dirty work clothes or anything my mom didn't want inside. The little porch was also the passage through which people entered into the house and our kitchen. As night fell, I often entered the back porch with caution because my brother, Richard, might be lurking just inside to scare the snot out of me. I was not a fan of the, "Surprise!"

Arriving home from church at night, the little porch and the inside of our house were dark. Richard jumped out of the car, racing ahead of us disappearing inside of the house. With a furrowed brow, sighing, I knew he was up to no good. As any little sister having been accosted numerous times before knows, one learns to expect the unexpected out of a big brother. He turned on no lights so as to set a spooky mood, making my entrance onto the porch room dark and creepy. Slowly, the screen door screeched as I opened it with anticipation of his antics. As I tiptoed inside the enclosed porch, I squinted to see any movement and called out to Richard, "You better not be hiding!" When I was certain my brother was not there, I knew he would be waiting for me inside the house. Touching the back door leading into the kitchen, I inched the knob around in my hand, cautiously pulling back on the door. To the immediate right of the kitchen door was my parent's bedroom and it was there that Richard often stalked his prey. My heart racing, I held my breath and, "BOO!" Richard yelled, jumping out at me like phantoms in a spook house. It never failed to frighten me and my screams only fueled Richard's laughter with delight at my jumping fear.

Even though my brother's practical jokes were innocent, childish fun, to this day as a grown, almost senior citizen adult, the fear of the unknown still scares me. (By the way, Richard has outgrown playing practical jokes on me.) This state of Limbo or uncertainty is like anticipating a surprise. When the next venture comes around, I hope I laugh and feel fulfilled by whatever job or project comes. My God alone knows what lurks around the corner and I have to believe that with Him all things are possible. He will lead me through the darkness and on him I can rely. Years of Sunday school pay off when we are in Limbo. Maybe my physical daddy is smiling down on me as I recall Psalm 23 that he took the time to help me memorize as a child. It is often these words of my Lord's encouragement that flow through my mind in times of uncertainty.

 

Psalm 23

King James Version (KJV)

23 The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

² He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

³ He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

⁴ Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

⁵ Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

⁶ Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

My brother, Richard Lee Ritchey and me. Sept. 2012