The truth was that Maude was a commanding presence, and not just because of her grand posture. Her father came from Maine to Pennsylvania shortly after the Civil War, to work as a logger. Later, he ran several large logging camps with his partners. All four of his children spent a good part of their childhood in the woods; any one of them could take down a sizable tree in a jiffy. I have photos of Maude wielding a saw, astride a horse, at hunting camp with her own shotgun, tending her extensive gardens, and running her floral business. When her own children were young, she would drive them to Maine by herself to visit her aunts, uncles and cousins. In those days, you could expect to have a flat tire on a regular basis while traveling. Maude was unflappable. She just put a blanket on the grass, placed the baby on the blanket and told the two older boys to watch out for snakes. Then she changed the tire. To me, this is amazing; for Maude, it was all part of the day. As you can see, there wasn't much she couldn't do, and do well.
Maude was blessed with phenomenal organizational and leadership skills. Today, she would be running a major corporation. Instead, like many women of her era, once her children were in their teens, she became involved with a number of organizations. And, being Maude, she didn't just join them — she chaired committees and served as chapter president or regent before continuing to move up to regional and state level offices.
The year I was born, Maude served as Worthy Grand Matron, Pennsylvania Grand Chapter, Order of the Eastern Star. It sounds like, and is, an impressive title and a very big job. Part of her role that year included attendance at a number of official dinners and functions, always in formal evening wear. Now, Maude's favorite color was blue. Before she took office, one of her friends made her a blue cape to wear for Eastern Star functions. Before long, she was known far and wide as "The Blue Lady of Pennsylvania." She was wearing that cape in the photo above, her official OES portrait. Now that I think about it, she was the same age then that I am now, an intimidating thought indeed.
You might think, reading all this, that Maude lived a charmed life and, in some respects, you would be right. But tragedy was never far beneath the surface. One of her younger brothers died in their home of an accidental gunshot wound; six months later, her father was thrown from a logging train, run over and killed. Her brother-in-law committed suicide after several years of unemployment during the Depression. Her youngest son died of a gunshot wound and was buried on his eighteenth birthday. And she cared for my grandfather at home for four years, between a first stroke that crippled him and a second stroke that ended his life. You don't survive all this without enormous courage and personal strength. Maude had both, with enough left over to support everyone she loved through awful tragedies.
Well. You can see why a small child would be overwhelmed by such a grandmother and, goodness knows, I was. But as I grew into my teens and early twenties, I began to understand Maude. Guess what — she was FUNNY! She had a wonderful laugh, and loved a good time. For years after my grandfather died, she would invite a houseful of "the girls" to spend several days for an ongoing card and house party. Can't you just see them, playing Canasta, cooking and cleaning up, with evenings filled with a little gossip and lots of reminiscence? And possibly making homemade ice cream; Maude was still hand-cranking ice cream when she was past eighty.
My dad and his brother said it best — "My mother was the most wonderful woman." I've always thought that raising children who thought so much of you was one of the finest accomplishments in life. And really, despite all the achievements and recognition in her life, who could ask for more?
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