How my mother made lemonade

Two weeks after I turned 17, my mother was diagnosed with a malignant melanoma. At that time in the early 1960s, chemotherapy and radiation treatments were still in the experimental stages. Instead, the standard treatment was to remove the cancer, surrounding tissue and lymph nodes and send the patient home to rest and, hopefully, recover. So the surgeons removed all the tumor lymph nodes between her left hip and foot and then did a major skin graft with skin harvested from her back. Her surgeon -- one of the few who believed it was best for patients to know about their illnesses and prognosis -- hoped this painful process would give her at least another five years.


So, in addition to the typical senior activities, my last year in high school included learning to plan family meals from weekly sales and doing the grocery shopping, running my three younger brothers to their school activities and learning the fine points of managing the family budget. Not because I was the daughter, but because I was the eldest and the only kid with a driver's license. Laundry, mending and cleaning were already under control because Mama had begun having each of us do that for ourselves when we turned 10. By the time I graduated, I not only had a couple of scholarships, but something even better -- life skills that they don't teach in school and few parents think to pass on to their children as they leave the nest.

By the time my first brother turned 17 two years later, Mama was healthy again and back to her part-time job. Ray looked forward to a year of fun and games at school -- which he got -- but he also encountered a completely different reality at home: my senior year experience. I had already told our parents how beneficial my extra work at home had been to me, putting me ahead of my peers in that critical first year away from home, and they decided it was just what Ray needed before he headed off to school. And, as I had, he reported that a year of managing a household, doing the budget, shopping for groceries and running errands gave him an extra edge in dealing with his new life -- AND attracted girls!

A pattern was set, and the last two brothers knew it, so they just made it part of their expected senior year. And, as Ray had found, they were they only males among their peers who could manage their own affairs, do their laundry, mend a shirt, plan a budget-friendly meal -- and then cook it!

Both of my parents believed that everyone should be able to handle all the skills they'd need in life, regardless of gender. And yes, my dad had insisted that each of us know how to handle common tools and maintain the family car for six months before we could test for our driver's license. I can -- and have -- built furniture, fixed plumbing and done simple electric work. I could then -- and still can -- jump a battery and change oil and tires; I'd rather pay for services and call AAA, but if I needed to do this for myself, I could.

The long and short of this is that my mom made great lemonade out of a big pile of lemons. She turned a six-month-long convolescence into valuable life lessons that equipped us well for life and love.

Yes, love. You think my sisters-in-law don't adore my mother for giving them mates who can and do cook, clean, sew and wash? Wouldn't you?