Young Gladys

A Tribute to My Mother:

Gladys Irene Lovette Trivette Hudson

February 8, 1929--September 16, 1990

It's been 17 years since my mom left us, and still yet, not a day goes by that I don't think of her.

So many things I wish I could ask her about. How I wish she was here. How I wish she knew my children.

Mama was a tiny thing--probably about 5'3" at most, and small-framed. Of course when I was growing up I compared myself to her physically and thought of myself as an Amazon woman!! She was so tiny, petite, and fragile, and I considered this to be so feminine. So if I was big-boned with huge man-hands and feet, then I must not be feminine! She remained small and slight all her life and developed pretty severe osteoporosis (but early onset) in her later years. I remember one birthday surprise celebration we had for her up at Olin Reeves' farmhouse in Alleghany county. In my enthusiasm, I hugged her so hard I cracked one of her ribs!

Mama used to tell me that her all-time favorite thing to do when she was a youngster was to take a blanket and a book and lay under a shady tree and spend the entire day carried away into another world. She read avidly all her life. Other interests included gardening, (especially wildflowers) needlework, cooking, oldie movies, astronomy, science, psychology. She subscribed to Psychology Today, Time and TV Guide! She never ceased to learn.

When Daddy died in 1987, Mama began to spend a lot more time watching TV to keep herself occupied. And she was no longer able to see well enough to do any needlework--at least that's what she said, she may just have no longer had the interest. But I remember so well how she'd record all the movies she was watching, especially from Turner Classics, and she'd share the cassettes with three movies each on them, with me. She'd write the title, date, actors, description, and then also give her critique. At the time (1987-1990) Jug, Olivia and I lived up on the lake and had very poor reception and could only tune in like 2 and a half channels! So I greatly appreciated Mama's movie tapes.

Do we ever not miss our parents? Probably not. Damn, I'm tearing up. Probably hormones!

Mama left us in 1990, and she was only 61 years old. She wasn't ever very robust. She smoked heavily all her life until she was finally able to quit about three years before she died, but it was way too late. She used Nicorette gum and became addicted to it!! Back then it was prescription only, and she'd have her friends and family get a prescription, and she'd buy it from them!!

She started struggling with her breathing when she was about 50--and I can date that because I remember her walking with Jug and me on our land at the lake and her having just a bit of breathlessness. And by the time she was in her mid 50's she was using a nebulizer and a portable "breathing machine" (as she called it) and toted it with her everywhere she went.

She was also hunched over with osteoporosis and was in constant pain. She used to tell me that the only position she could get relief was laying on her back in the bed, but she absolutely refused to allow herself that relief until 10 pm precisely! She said she was afraid that if she went to bed any sooner in the day she would just never get up again.

I want to never forget one of the last great memories I have of her. It was the summer before she died in September of 1990. Mel was home visiting with both her children. After we got them and Olivia asleep for the night, the three of us piled up on Mama's bed and watched Driving Miss Daisy together. I don't know--it was just a great memory and I cherish it. She loved that movie!!

As I get older, I hear a lot that I remind people of Mama. They'll say it just out of the blue, and then say it was just my body language or how I moved my arms or the turn of my head, that sort of thing. I hear it from Dawn a lot. I like that. I like it that I remind anyone of my mother. She was a difficult woman--often harsh, but regardless of that, I admired her so much! Mama suffered horribly from debilitating major depression much of her life and that probably could account for the harshness and irritability. She did find significant relief from her condition, oh, I'd like to say about a year before she died, using one of the then new anti-depressants (Prozac, I think). Mel and I both remember how much she would talk that last summer before she died. She just was a little motormouth and told us so many stories and tales! We loved it--it was a gift.

That's Mama on the right. She was the oldest of six children. That's her father Austin Henry Lovette (1905-1950) and sisters Madge (left) and Fern. The other sibs were Pug, Jap and Dawn. Mama absolutely adored her father, and she never spoke of him to us that her devotion wasn't evident. He died so young, 45, and it just devastated his family leaving a young widow and six children. Mama would have been just 21 years old when he died. Dawn, the baby would have been just five years old. Don't know how my grandmother managed.

I love these old pics of my young mother! She never seemed that playful to me growing up! She's picnicking here with her pals and that's her first husband, Earl Trivette, beside her that she's air-kissing. Don't know if this would have been before or after they got married. I don't know where they were either. It would have been before the dam was built...so not there. Maybe someone else has a guess?

This is the Hinshaw Street house in North Wilkesboro--top of 6th Street Hill. I'm not sure when my mom's family moved into this house--Dawn probably could tell me, but my grandmother lived there until she died in 1999. This is Mama, back, right and Madge beside her. Then Fern is on the front left and beside her is little Pug. Fern looks exactly like my sister Suzy did at the same age.

So she'd be about 19 years old here.

Now that's some lipstick!! A very young Gladys....maybe still in high school?

Graduation from high school. About 1947.

I know this is a terrible photograph, but it's still a favorite of mine. I just appreciate it's candidness--that it depicts her doing just an ordinary thing--fixing a meal in her tiny little kitchen with her hair in pin curls. I may be wrong, but I always have thought that this was in one of the rental houses behind my grandmother Mindy's house on Hinshaw. Before Austin died, he wisely had three small frame houses built, and they provided much needed income to Mindy. Most of the six kids started out their married lives living in one of them.

Austin, Mindy, Gladys and Madge. I'd guess about 1933??

Mama and her gal pals soak up the sun at some lake or other. That's Mama, second on the left.

Youthful Gladys cutting up.....she's on the right.

This is Mama with Jim and that's her handwriting dating it--1952.

Mama and sister Madge.

Rambling and Ruminating...My Parents....

One of my favorite photos of my mother--Gladys Irene Lovette Hudson. Wasn't she pretty? Mama was born the first of six children February 8, 1929 to Austin Henry and Minda Eulala Higgins Lovette. She had four sisters and one brother. She married at 18 to James Earl Trivette and had my (half) brother Jim and sister Suzy. They divorced, gosh--guess about 1954?? Then she married my father in 1957 and I was born in 1958 and Mel in 1960.

Mama left us in 1990--been so long ago now but I still miss her so much. I don't think a day goes by even today that I don't think of her. She, as I guess all mothers do, had a profound effect on my life. How I wanted to please her!

This photo was taken by my brother Jim at a cookout at my aunt and uncle's Alton and Madge Absher (Mama's sister) about 1974. Best I can calculate, she'd be about 45 years old in this photo. It's a rare good picture of her--few were taken back then and if it weren't for Jim taking a photography class and acquiring a camera in college we wouldn't have any, period! This is also rare because she looks so good--happy--like life was good and she was content--also rare. I have a copy of this photo at my desk and I like to think Mama's here with me seeing and loving me and my children. She never even met Grant but she sure loved Olivia. And fortunately Livvie was five when Mama died so she does have memories of her--Mama keeping her while I worked and giving her a piece or two of her costume jewelry which tickled little Livvie.

How do I miss her? Let me count the ways....anytime I'm gardening how I'd love to be able to ask her what I should plant where--she had so much knowledge here. She loved wild flowers and worked very hard in her wild flower garden and she and Daddy spent many a happy weekend scouring the mountain sides hunting for those elusive blooms. And cooking--man, could she ever cook those simple southern, country meals! Sewing, knitting and any type needle work--Mama was a paragon of talent in this area. She won many ribbons for her work. Science--especially astronomy--this fascinated her and she studied it and watched every special on TV. She was an avid reader and could easily read three or more books a week. She was an exceptional, what was called back then, secretary. She typed at least 80 wpm and was a whiz at dictation. Grammar, punctuation, spelling--expert. I ALWAYS had her edit every paper I ever did.

In so many ways and every day, I miss my mother.

Another memory from Mama's last years--Olivia sticking her gum up her nose!!--seems like Mama had given her gum and Olivia didn't want me to know (?) and to hide it she put it up her nose? Days go by and while I'd noticed her nose was stopped up and just assumed it was a cold--just happened to see something in her nose while she was lying down and thought it looked odd and asked the stinker about it and she confessed her mischievousness! Did Dr. Gulden ever have a time grabbing hold of it!!

A fairly good pic of my father, Smith Richardson Hudson, taken about 1974 or so. He was the baby of eight children and was born February 12, 1933. So he'd be about 40 here. Daddy died so young--he was 54. It's taken me most of the last twenty years to come to a place of forgiveness for him (and him for me, posthumously, of course) and LOTS of introspection, examination, and analysis. Daddy had the disease of alcoholism and it affected every aspect of his life. It was an evolution, a coming together of several different forces at work in me--Al-Anon, family of origin work, a spiritual journey, journaling, maturing, finding compassion, understanding the disease concept of addictions, etc. for me to be able to say: my father was a good man with a bad disease. He never set out to be a bad father nor to hurt us in any way. Instead, he was gripped by his disease and it dominated every thing in his life.

Many years ago, at least ten, something unknown to me now, motivated me to do some work on forgiving my father and I composed a list of his qualities/attributes/assets. It was cathartic and a huge first step in the process that ultimately got me where I can think of him with fondness and not bitterness. He was kind and (overly) generous. He was a great story-teller and joke teller. He loved nature of all kinds but was also an avid hunter and fisherman. Loved sunsets. He was a gifted artist like his mother and late in his life did some good water colors. He was also a gifted dentist--there are still many a folk in Wilkes walking around with crown and bridge work my daddy did in the sixties! He had a very tender heart--I remember many times watching shows like The Waltons and Little House on the Prairie--gosh, even Bonanza and he and I both would be crying! He had SO much potential. Imagine taking four children--two of which were babies, packing up and moving to Chapel Hill and going for four years to dental school--what an accomplishment! And they had NO money, living like paupers but ironically Mama always said the Chapel Hill years were her happiest years. So he had drive, ambition, courage, tenacity and obviously smarts about him. Potential crushed by his disease. Daddy, blessedly, had three years of sobriety and my memories from those precious years, I cling to. It's the five years after that lead up to his death that haunt me. And the reason I had to do a lot of hard work spiritually to feel he'd forgiven me for treating him so miserably. I was so angry at him! I was sick--as sick as him and had no professional support at the time--just doing the only thing I knew to do--try to manipulate him into quitting drinking. I've forgiven myself and know he forgives me too. A good man. A good man with a bad disease. Simple.