My Mother

      She came from a large family.  Four sisters and three brothers well bred in Dothan, Alabama.  She is the fourth born of Irish and Scottish descent.  The family had come from Ireland so Irish is how we identify ourselves. There is a street named after us in Dublin. Price St. is so named because of our connection to the old country. There are 10's of thousands of families named after us, both here and abroad. Our ultimate roots are in Wales so the Welsh can be proud.
    Ercie is a beautiful woman. Her natural beauty is a gift from God. Her jobs required perfect make up and clothing.

    She showed me how to roll tobacco like a cowboy. Twiddling my thumbs was also given to me.  My Grandfather used this method to relax and pass the time.  She never failed her family. She brought a lot to the table, enduring disappointments and great losses that will never be replaced.  She was stalwart in her devotion to family. She improved the lives of everyone she came in touch with.  She solved  problems, whether it was an injury or a belief in yourself. Her encouraging words illustrates her love in a most complete way.
   All of the 7 have passed on now. She holds the middle position where balance is maintained. She told me of having lunch with a friend at the Walgreen's Drug Store on Canal Street. Her friend looked away for a brief moment. My mother the jokester, said to her,' I spit in your Coke.'  Her poor friend did not know how to respond to her humor. They left the drug store laughing at this silliness which, in turn, put smiles on everyone passing by no matter what kind of day they were having. 

     I came running in bleeding from a foot wound. She calmly took me to the bathroom and carefully removed the glass shards from my foot. I felt like I was being cared for by someone who really loved me. This is what a Mother does for her child. She heals all hurts.
         She taught me how important reading is. She illustrated this by having stacks of books near her night stand. She bought us the Encyclopedia Britannica for Christmas. Then another Christmas she surprised me with the complete set of Ian Fleming's 007.

      Ercie constantly encouraged my many hobbies. When I would visit her downtown on Saturdays she would take me to a store that sold stamps in bulk for the collector. I was an avid collector. I looked forward to seeing her coming home after a long day in high heels, selling women's apparel. Everyone seemed to know her downtown. She did not judge people. Everyone from the lowly janitor to her many bosses wanted the very best for her and her family. She was a prized employee having won the honor many times over for her sheer volume of business she generated for New Orleans. She was a treasure that everyone enjoyed.

       I still remember this as if it were yesterday. It was early morning and the mists on the river were surrounding us that Sunday when Nana and my Mother took us to St. Louis Cathedral for services. It was the most remarkable of times. Not only was I being introduced to the Ursalines Convent who care for the Church but the whole French Catholic experience of New Orleans.  

     Nana was the only child of Irene and Abbie Heckmann.   Irene was completely French and Abbie a German shoemaker.  Nana ascribed to the French culture of the French Quarter.  These were my relatives who lived on St Phillip St right off Rampart St. where the French Market begins. On the corner is a bank that has since closed its doors. The hipsters started a dance club that stayed open during the early years of hippiedom in New Orleans.
      My Mother was given a poodle which she raised as family. One cold afternoon, we all were down at Lake Pontchartrain. We walked out on a dock. The poodle ran ahead.  The poor thing ran right off the dock into the cold waters of the lake. By the time I rescued the critter she was not breathing. Nasty as it was, I grabbed her muzzle and blew into her nose. Her eyes popped open.  She was glad to be alive.  I got a good dinner for my heroics.  So did Mimi the poodle. We had this poodle bred producing a new household pet named Peaches and Cream is the one I saved.. These dogs stayed with Ercie and Al for many years. The pets moved with them to Snug Harbor after the camp was built near the Rigolets Pass that connects Lake Ponchartrain and the Gulf of Mexico.  This was the exact spot that Jayne Mansfield was killed on the adjacent highway.
       My brother talked them into moving to Texas as they aged. They could not live on the lonely highway much longer. They sold the place to a young women.  That very same year hurricane Katrina blew through. I looked at the satellite pictures of the area. Nothing was left. Not even the pilings. It was all gone. That was the second time the old man sold his summer place to have a hurricane level it. That storm was named Camille.  Nothing but the blues.

     When she passed away, I knew exactly when that happened. By the Grace of God she appeared to me in a vision from Heaven looking young and healthy with short black hair. This was in Tijuana. I knew then how much she cared about her long lost son.

   I knew God was taking care of her and her worries.  I had seen His Shining face in Fayetteville, Arkansas after praying a lengthy plea for guidance. He lifted his arm and pointed to the Pacific Northwest. I had studied for many moons with the Independent Baptists.  I heard many stories of Missionary ventures to Alaska.  I wanted to go there. It was not to be though.  Plans change people change. I went back to school in Bellingham.