My mother Marie (Hussong) Ninneman died August 15, 2012.
Her obituary said that she took pride in her family above all else. I wrote that part and I know it's so. I have six sisters and a twin brother, and she thought we were all great. That was our mother.
She called herself the black sheep of her family because, as she put it, she'd been at her parents' wedding. In 1928, this was scandalous. She felt a stigma, though didn't understand it, until my dad, early in my parents' relationship, realized grandma and grandpa's wedding anniversary and my mother's birthdate didn't match up, or more succintly, were 6 months apart. And my mother was the oldest and always felt a separateness from her siblings, the least favored.
She was not going to have one of her children suffer from feeling second best. At Christmas, you'd get a gift and a check for $18.06, or a gift and a check for $34.73. She was going to spend $50 on each of us or die trying.
When it came to our jobs, my mother didn't care what our jobs were: secretary, waitress, farmer, nurse's aide. She took pride in our accomplishments whatever they were. As long as we were happy with our jobs, she was too. No one's job was better or worse than another's.
If you needed a loan, Mom was there. Most of us borrowed money from her at one time or another. And you paid her back because you'd feel guilty otherwise. Not that she cared. Money meant nothing to her. Only family mattered.
She was the best mom. Though she made mistakes, as all moms have, she must have done an awful lot right. All eight of us turned out great, not a black sheep in the bunch.
