A Tribute to Mom

She was born Mildred Campbell in northeast Oklahoma at the end of the 1920s, the eighth of eleven children. I remember asking her if she grew up in the Dust Bowl. With a bit of Silent Generation humor, she replied, “No, we just had the Depression.” Her family experienced personal tragedy in 1934 with the murder of her uncle, Constable William Calvin Campbell. He was a senior police officer killed in the line of duty by members of the Bonnie and Clyde gang.

The area where Mom grew up featured extensive lead and zinc mining. It is estimated that more than fifty percent of the lead and zinc used in World War I came from this area. This meant jobs for local residents but, over time, it took a toll in terms of the environment. Many years later, the area would become part of the Tar Creek Superfund Site.

In such a world, dreams take on added importance. Mom called school the bright light of her life; she decided at an early age to become a teacher. While this might seem a modest goal to some, it was a leap of faith for a girl like Mom.

Steps Forward

The demand for mine workers in the area grew during World War II because of increased need for lead and zinc. My grandfather was one who answered that call. The work was dangerous, but it paid well enough for my grandfather to put some funds aside. He earmarked that money for his children’s education. 

Mom jumped at the opportunity to take classes at a nearby junior college. She met a kindred spirit there, a Navy veteran named Stan Lemaster. Inspired by his electronics training in the service, he resolved to become an electrical engineer. The two became advocates for one another’s dreams. At the end of junior college, they began a marriage that lasted until Dad’s death fifty-five years later.

They also began the twenty year journey to achieving their dreams. Mom put her career path on hold during this time. After junior college, she worked an office job to support them while Dad finished his undergraduate degree and became a licensed engineer. They were thrilled when he received an offer from General Electric.

Years later, Mom would talk about those days and shake her head. “Two kids out of Oklahoma. We were ready to take on the world, just had no idea what it meant.”

Working Toward Dreams

Dad’s first engineering job took them to upstate New York, where my sister Celia was born. They were comfortable but not happy in this location. Neither of them liked being so far away from their families, and they detested the long, frigid winters. Dad began checking for openings in more southern locations. 

Eventually, Dad accepted a position in Owensboro, Kentucky. On paper, it seemed to meet their requirements: a more temperate climate and a location that was closer, if not actually close, to their families in Oklahoma. As Mom told the story, they packed to leave in the winter. They drove out of the severe New York winter into the more forgiving Kentucky one. She always said she knew right away this would be a place she and Dad could feel at home.

When she told me about the next series of events, Mom always compressed the timeline. I was born, she went back to school, graduated, and got a job at a junior high school. About the time I entered first grade, Mom and Dad added night courses in graduate school.

One bit of relevant information-the college Mom and Dad attended for their graduate work was seventy miles from Owensboro. They worked full time, took care of two children, commuted to their classes, and managed to keep up on the course work. Honestly, I don’t know how they managed it. The day they graduated was a proud day for us and, I’m sure, a relief for both of them.

Mom also did several types of volunteer work, like helping people prepare to take the G.E.D. (high school equivalency) test. This may have been one of the reasons she was commissioned a Kentucky Colonel, a title of honor granted by the Governor to acknowledge service to the community. Mom received her title from then-Governor (later Senator) Wendell Ford, whose children had been her students.

She was an award-winning teacher, tenured, with a successful husband and a family. Someone looking on might think all her hard work had paid off, and she was set for the rest of her life.

That isn’t quite how it worked out.

Changes

When I was in the ninth grade, we learned Dad had been transferred to a G. E. plant in Maryland, outside Washington D.C. We moved there the following summer, and Mom applied with the county schools. She was told they wouldn’t extend an offer because she was over forty and had a Master’s degree.

Needless to say, this came as a huge disappointment. However, anyone who thinks it would keep her down never met Mom. Teaching meant too much to her for that. Granted, her first choice was teaching in the public schools. But, if her first choice was not available, she would find an alternative.

Mom put out a second round of applications, did substitute teaching, and then sent out more applications. Eventually, this led to a position as the head of adult education at a newly formed community college. She would lead a G.E.D. review course, utilizing the experience she’d gained from her volunteer work. 

When she started the course, an unexpected thing happened. She received inquiries from people needing help with remedial reading and English as a Second Language. Mom began working with the community college to expand the original program. It was completely different from anything she had done before, but she found that she enjoyed it.

Then we learned Dad was being transferred back to Kentucky, this time to Louisville. 

Once they got settled into their new home, Mom began sending out applications. The process was similar to what she’d encountered in Maryland, and so was the timeline. However, the result was different. Mom found a position as the principal of a small private school. She stayed there until her first retirement in the early 1990s.

Second Act

At the time, Mom insisted she was ready to retire and “not do a blessed thing all day”. We tried to be supportive, but none of us really believed her. (After all, we had seen her during summer vacations, counting down the days until school would start.) Sure enough, Mom started volunteering at a local school. Before long, administrators began seeking her input on programs. Mom was thrilled to be able to help. 

She and Dad had hoped to travel after retirement. Unfortunately, this didn’t happen due to the decline in Dad’s health. After Dad passed away, she continued her work at the school. Mom said it gave her a sense of purpose. She continued volunteering for the school until she was eighty-seven years old. 

Coda

My husband and I went with Mom to the places where she had planned to travel with Dad. The picture accompanying this post is from one of those trips. It shows both of us on the high platform of a monument outside Albuquerque, New Mexico.

I remember standing by the stairway with Mom. She glanced toward the platform and said, “Wonder how things look from up there?” I had seen the expression on her face well enough to know we were going to tackle those stairs. It puts a smile on my face even now, thinking of Mom standing in triumph on that platform. It is the way I always want to remember her.

Mom passed away in June 2023 at age ninety-five. True to form, she thought about all of us in her last days. She left individual letters, written in her beautiful hand that looked like calligraphy. The one to my husband thanked him for the trips, saying they helped her through the difficult period after Dad’s passing.

In mine, she wrote about some of the difficult times we had shared but also about the happy ones. Then she turned to her own life. In summing up, Mom wrote, “It has been a journey, a wonderful journey. I could not ask for more.”