My Mother

The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman must be seen from in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides. The beauty of a woman is not in a facial mole, but true beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It is the caring that she lovingly gives, the passion that she shows, and the beauty of a woman with passing years only grows!

My Mother was a star and it wasn’t till she died that I realized it. Her life was her children. She wanted everything for us.
When I was Homecoming Queen she not only had my suit made, but we were off to Meyer the Hatter to get my hat covered in the same material as the suit and she even talked them into covering the shoes as well. Unheard of!
We picked a beautiful couture gown off the pages of Vogue and she had it made for my high school graduation. The top was polished cotton with delicate baby crystals and the skirt was a balloon of bellowing quilted cotton with satin bows with crystals at the apex of the bows. It was amazing.
When I was a freshman at LSU, I was invited to the Kappa Alpha Ole South Ball. Otis Redding was the entertainment that night. Are you listening, I said “Otis Redding”
What to wear! Plantation dresses of that time period were pretty pastels with big hoop skirts and most of the girls who had been invited, rented their dresses. Not I… my Mother had a dress made for me. It was very special. She hated Jerry my date, but if I was going, I had to look special! She thought we were getting too close and I was not allowed to go back to LSU for my sophomore year. Those were the days we listened to our parents. What happened to those days? He was so cute with his blond hair and rosiolla of the cheeks! I heard years later that he had become a multi millionaire. He was so cute!
My Mother entertained beautifully with the finest linens and silverware. Whenever I am complimented on a dinner or function I have executed, I always give credit to my Mother. She taught me everything I know. I often hope my girls will pick up on some of my teachings. Maybe through osmosis!

This is a perfect place to tell the story I wrote for “The Jewish Women’s Archives” about my Mother and the miraculous story of her escape from New Orleans during Katrina.

It was the Wednesday after Katrina hit and the levees had destroyed the city. The TV had shown pictures of Memorial Hospital. The commentator had said that the hospital had been evacuated and that the hospital was empty. My mother had needed a procedure done and she had been admitted to the hospital on the preceding Saturday. When the word came on Sunday that the city must evacuate, my mothers’ doctor, had told the family she would be more comfortable and safer at the hospital versus taking a long road trip.

Our family was dispersed all over the south and the children of, Margaret Buring were calling each other frantically asking, “Have you heard from her?” The four of us waited and waited; but, by Wednesday afternoon, we started to really worry. Where was our Mother? Surely if the hospital had been evacuated, she would have reached at least one of us.

We called every hospital we could find from Texas to Florida and heard the same refrain, ‘we are supposed to get evacuees, but so far none have come in!” My brother-in-law even got Michael Brown (the head of FEMA) on the phone and he couldn’t help. Panic started to set in.

All day Thursday we heard nothing… and then, at six that evening, the phone rang. I ran to get it and the gentleman at the other end said “This is Delta airlines calling. I said, Yes sir, what can I do for you?” After what seemed like the longest pause and in a voice that was filled with pride, he says, “We Have Your Mother!” I screamed, rushed to the car and called my siblings.

I spied her sitting on a bench. My first thought was that she looked like a Holocaust survivor. My mother was a woman who prided herself on always looking immaculate and here sat our Mother with disheveled hair wearing nothing but shorty pajamas, socks that Delta Airlines had given her and the look of an eighty plus year old woman that said “I am a survivor! I jumped out of the car to hug her and she whispered in my ear, “you have a very smart mother!’

And smart she was as she told us the grueling story of her survival. She had been in the hospital for five days with temperatures reaching 106 degrees and no food, other then water. How all the patients had been moved to higher floors using the stairwell to avoid rising waters. She said that she slept in the hallways with people screaming all around her. She spoke of the amazing doctors and nurses and volunteers who had stayed behind to take care of the infirmed.

Finally on Thursday morning she was told that boats had finally come to the hospital to evacuate the patients. She gathered the only belongings she could carry and put them in a small plastic bag. They consisted of her wallet, her eyeglasses and her medicine. She had on shorty pajamas, a matching robe and a pair of slippers. Besides her plastic bag she had her walker. As the line moved forward to get on the boat, the security guard told the patients, “You are not allowed to take anything on the boat except yourselves. Every person dropped their little plastic bags. Now she had nothing, but herself and her wits. She did keep her walker.
The doors opened and she stepped into the dirty water almost to her waist. She was lifted on to the boat. As it moved down what used to be a double lane street with a pretty median with trees and flowers down the middle, she thought now I am safe. No sooner had this thought crossed her mind, when the person driving the boat said that she would have to get off. The water at that point was not high enough to sustain the weight of the boat and its passengers. She walked to higher ground though the murky waters for three long blocks. She thought to herself, I am not going to die here. I want to see my children again. She lost her house shoes and discarded her robe as it was sopping wet and grimy.

She found an ambulance and was driven to the airport. She was told that the Air Force was sending planes for all evacuees. A lady lent her some coins to use the phone to call us, but nothing worked. She walked over to the information desk and asked when would the planes be coming? The woman had no idea, but told her that the president of Delta Airlines had flown in a group of Delta employee volunteers from Atlanta that day and that his plane was leaving in ten minutes and taking back evacuees. My Mother walked as quickly as she could to the gate and saw that the line to get on the plane was far out the door. She spied a man in a wheelchair at the back of the line and approached him. “Sir, I know you want to get on this plane, she said, “Stick with me!” She escorted him to the front of the line and entered the area for handicapped patients. Needless to say, our mother got on that plane!

I was fortunate enough to spend the last year of my Mothers life together with her in Atlanta. Last weekend my family was here to celebrate the marriage of my oldest son. It was also the anniversary of of the date my Mother passed away one year ago. To honor her we all went to services on Saturday morning. As I waited at the synagogue for the services to begin I was telling a total stranger about my mothers Katrina story and he summed it up beautifully.; no matter what trials G-d puts before us the human spirit will prevail.

G-d rests her soul. We miss her terribly…..