Today is the anniversary of my mother, Dorothy Belle Baron's birth. I feel so honored and thankful to be the daughter of my glamorous, classy, insightful mother. Now, I can be the life of a party, but Mommy always stole the show with the fullness of all of what she brought to life. Those of you who experienced and loved "Aunt Dorothy" think of her today with a smile, remembering at least one Dorothyism. When I return home tonight I'll remember sitting with her every evening...in her suite... with our glass of wine...or two. And I will smile! Thank all of you for being part of our circle of love.
Love and realness,
PS I wanted to share with you something I wrote about my mother called Dorothy Belle Baron
Dorothy Belle Baron was style and substance. In the world of teacher education there is a theory of a set of multiple intelligences, yet I believe the width and breath of our mother’s intelligences is yet to be captured. The way she lived her life, full of love, grace and laughter, was her art form, and we all were the adoring audience.
I was, am, so proud of my mother. One lesson she taught me is the importance of Gratitude. I watched her, even in the last months when breathing was often more than difficult, when an oxygen mask muffled her words, and she was in the hospital more than she was out, embrace each person she met, remembering their name, taking their hand, looking them in the eyes and thanking them…I was there when she told one nurse that she gave good needles…because she was able to do so without hurting her.
She taught me tenacity, persistence and plasticity as she made each and every step she took during therapy an opportunity to do more…10 steps one day, 35 the next, on to 75. The therapists were concerned that she pushed herself too far. She would practice the exercises designed to make her stronger everyday. She worked during her rehab toward walking into her 90th birthday party, with my brother holding her arm on one side and me on the other rather than with her walker. Instead, she had to enter the party in her wheel chair, but lit with bright holiday lights…with her son pushing her in. Instead of entering with disappointment she rolled in with style and grace.
In the hospital bed, she celebrated still being alive with the parts of her that could still express her love of music, dance and fun. She danced with her shoulders and head. Go Mommy. Go Mommy! She would not stop until she was stopped by a Higher Authority.
But what amazed me, about my mother, was she always was my support system and confidant, but I began to pay attention to and recognized her insight, wisdom and intellect. I had always thought of her as the consummate lady, and fashion icon. But I learned of her brilliance. I had taken on a responsibility at my job that I believed was beyond my skillsets and even my desire, but she demonstrated her belief in me. We began a tradition in which I would come into Dorothy’s suite with two glasses, one for her the other for me, and drink wine while we discussed the events of the day…much of which I could discuss with no one else. She would listen, engage and even advise. I had no idea of the depth of her wisdom until then. That ritual became our tradition… every night that I was home, for at least an hour, we would sit and talk, laugh and cry. She was the wind beneath my wings. I believe she is still with me, with us…and we will continue to soar.