Mum was born in County Kildare, Ireland, and she married my Dad, a U.S. soldier in England during WWII. Shortly after their marriage Dad was sent to a Veteran’s Hospital in Coral Gables, Florida.
At that time, all the transport back to America was used for returning troops, so civilian travel was severely restricted. My pregnant mother was left behind, and it was more than a year after my twin, Paul, and I were delivered that Mum was able to book us passage to “cross the pond” on the Queen Elizabeth.
She traveled alone with two active babies and how she accomplished this is a lesson in the strength of motherhood. When asked how, her matter of fact reply was “It just had to be done.” Remember, at that time there were no disposable diapers, formula, or jars of baby food available. We were assigned to the bowels of the ocean liner, and Mum said the cabin was so small she had to get on the single bunk with one of us in each arm in order to close the door with her foot.
It took a harrowing two weeks as the weather was gale force and slowed the passage. Once we arrived in New York, Mum took us by train all the way to Miami, Florida. Her next task, with a twin on each hip, was to find a place for us to live until Dad was discharged from the hospital.
This Irish tale, however, isn’t unusual, from the countless stories I’ve heard over the years about other families in the 1940’s and early 50’s. In time, Dad learned plumbing and Mum looked after a family that grew to six boys and two girls. Many other families learned to build their own homes, can their own foods, and budget precisely. But growing up in the struggles of a large family in a culturally diverse home, with Mum’s perseverance as an ideal to be emulated, taught me that some things “just have to be done” ~ and often we’re the better for it.