Charlotte Bobrecker.

1/8/27 – 5/18/08


The drive from Austin to Kansas City leaves the mind

enough time for wandering.  As I passed through the

Arbuckle mountains of Oklahoma, my thoughts drifted far

back to  my childhood, as I attempted to recall the memories

of a time which still remains most unfamiliar to me.


Charlotte graduated from Westport High School at age 16 and

the University of Michigan at 20.  Julian, a dashing young

World War II aviator, wooed her in a whirlwind and rather

cinematic style romance.  They married in 1947. But,

coming of age during a time when women were still

expected to remain home raising the children, proved the

most implausible box for Charlotte to fit in.


My mom was bestowed with the gift of intellect and starlet beauty,

yet her life was to be ill-fated by a constant stream of emotional

and mental instability.


For better or worse, we are all but a sum of the parts of which we

hail from. It’s how we use the jigsaw puzzle we’re dealt that most

assuredly defines our lives.


When I was a child, we planted a gathering of daffodils around our

young birch tree.  As winter’s snow fell, I would wait with quiet

anticipation of what the coming spring would bring.


Inevitably, the months marched forward pulling the sun northward

to work its magic.  In time, my youthful anxiousness was aptly

rewarded with a splendid sight of tiny buds struggling to reach out

and breathe in the sky.


Finally, a yellow cloak emerged from its winter hibernation, overtaking

the grassy slope beneath my bedroom window, awakening my

small world with beauty and hope.


As I now recall the distant past, I sense a reassuring voice

echoing in my thoughts…


Man’s imagination, his vision in dreams,

I believe,

are like quiet flowers growing strong in the spring.


Though death laid quiet a soul, it did not bury a memory.



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