Four Strong Women

I have been blessed to be in a family line that has included many very strong women. Lately I have reflected upon just 4 of them.

Great Grandmother Friedrich grew up in the post-Civil War sparsely settled ranch and farmlands of Texas. She raised the vegetables, the hogs, the calves, the chickens that kept her family fed and nourished. At one pint she noticed that the number of chickens in her coop seemed to be diminishing at a rate faster than what she had been slaughtering them. Then she noticed that this reduction seemed to occur during the night. So one night she stationed her self in the back of the chicken pen armed only with a very strong flashlight. Sure enough: In the middle of the night a figure appeared in the doorway. As he stepped in she flashed the light upon him and recognized him as a young farm worker who lived in one of the huts on her farm. He was, of course, as startled as she. He stammered, “I am lost. Can you tell me the way to Giddings?” (a nearby town). Immediately Great Grandma stared him down and said, “You (expletive deleted) know the way to Giddings as well as I do. Now get out of here because if you come again I will have something stronger than a flashlight on my hand!” From then on the only chickens that disappeared from her hen house were those that ended up in her frying pan.

Aunt Elizabeth became a widow responsible for two young children when she was just in her thirties. She managed it all by raising chickens and marketing them and the eggs they produced. In her old age she lived alone. One night a young man (possibly on drugs) appeared in her room. He was armed. He demanded she go get him money. She refused to budge. Instead she started a conversation. She reminded him that somewhere he must have a mother who loved him and who would be disappointed to see him robbing an old defenseless widow. She kept the conversation going as the would-be robber became more reflective, decided not to pursue the robbery and was about to leave. At that point Aunt Elizabeth said “No, wait. Sit down. We are going to have a prayer.” And so she prayed for the young man, his mother and his future. She was never intruded upon again.

My Mother had to be physically strong. She bore nine children. One summer she “put-up” 800 quarts of vegetables and fruits to feed us through the winter. She washed our clothes without a hot water heater, wrung the clothes dry by hand and hung them up on wash lines. Then she starched and ironed basketful after basketful of them. She nursed us all through red-eye, measles, mumps, whooping cough, scarletina, poison ivy, broken bones and broken hearts.

One image stands out for me. Somehow or other the very large pasture surrounding our house, barn and sheds caught fire in the midst of a dry Texas summer. The parched grass and broom weeds were blazing and heading toward our home. Dad was not at home. Mother marshaled us. She got out 5 cans holding 5 gallons each and old burlap bags. I can still see my mom lugging two enormous cans each holding five gallons of water. She ran to the edge of the fire some 100 yards away, wet down the burlap bags and beat down the flames at the edge of the on-coming conflagration. Then she ran back refilled those cans, again she lugged them to the fire, instructing us to join her. She repeated this until the fire was extinguished. I still see her, not only struggling with those heavy containers, but after the fire breathing very heavily, completely exhausted, sweating, black with ash and sighing after saving our home from destruction.

My sister Mimi had already proven herself by rising to be first the head nurse and then the widely acclaimed administrator of a community hospital. Then one average Saturday morning she walked into the small Walburg State Bank to make a simple transaction. In the midst of this, two angry men walked in, armed and aggressive. They ordered Mimi to lie face down prone on the floor. She did. They ordered the teller to turn over the cash. He complied and still they fired at him with the bullet grazing his head. One of the robbers stood over Mimi straddling her body. Then just before exiting he fired and blew the skull off the back of her head. Ambulances arrived, emergency care was provided. Contrary to every prognosis and due to Providence, old ammunition, and the strength and determination of one very strong woman, Mimi recovered enough to advance in her profession and receive statewide acknowledgment of her skills and leadership. Then recently she had “ a medical incident”. The attending physician who had not really studied her medical history said to her “Hmm, this activity seems to be the result of some severe trauma to your brain. Do you have any memory of something like that happening?” She remembers, of course, but it has not kept her from being one more of those strong women who continue to be for me much-valued models and inspiration.