Marie Savoy's mother

My Mother, 4 May 1925 - 27 August 2015

by Marie Savoy

My mother was born Edna Marie Wright in Charlotte, NC on 4 May 1925. She was the 5 th of eight

children born to her parents. She was quiet and shy until you got to know her. She grew up around

family and so family was very important to her.

My mother learned the value of work from her mother. While my grandmother raised children, she also

worked long shifts in one of the cotton mills in Charlotte; maintained a huge garden of vegetables and

flowers; and took her children to the Methodist church on Sundays. My grandmother taught my mother

to cook and sew. In high school, my mother said she would stitch a skirt at night after her studies and

then wear the new skirt to school the next day. Mother said her older sister always liked to borrow her

clothes (this aunt was too busy with boys). This aunt said she even liked supper best when it was my

mother’s turn to cook…hummm, boys.

My mother went to school and loved to learn. Her favorite subject was Social Studies and History. It

upset her, that so many of her classmates went to fight in WWII. She kept scrapbooks about the war.

As an adult, she maintained a subscription for the Charlotte Observer Newspaper until she died. She

was always aware of current events and voted with a knowing conscience.

During WWII, my mother attended a 2-yr secretarial program at the Women’s College in Greensboro.

She was the first in her family to seek higher education. She was so proud that she was able to send her

children to college. She worked as a bookkeeper until she retired. She helped support us and her

mother-in-law as well as save, save, SAVE.

When my mother was young, she had luscious beautiful long blonde hair…she would have made the

Clairol girls on the backs of magazines envious. She was a green-eyed blonde and wore the prettiest

clothes with matching shoes, handbag, gloves and hat. I liked listening to people talk about my mother

when she was a young woman. She was funny and happy.

My mother had a few life-long friends, though she did not go visiting very often. Dottie was her closest

friend; they grew up together. They would sit, talk, drink coffee, smoke cigarettes, knit and laugh.

Mostly my mother was either at work or home with us. She cooked a delicious chuck roast and

wonderful potato salad. Her homemade soup was made with leftover vegetables and much love. She

did embroidery and could knit beautifully. Later in life she enjoyed cross-stitching.

Different awful things happened to my mother: my father went to Korea; we lost everything in

Hurricane Hazel; my father and baby brother had tuberculosis and were in sanitoriums in different

states; and that same brother died of cancer at 17 yrs. old. I can’t recall ever hearing my mother

complain. Later, she developed emphysema and battled that disease for the last 25 years of her life.

She also suffered from macular degeneration and so she had to give-up driving. (She had been the first

in her family to own a car.) She accepted her trials and trudged on.

Growing up, my mother taught me always to be honest and look for the truth. She was very strict. She

did not do a lot of talking or “instructing”. I just watched her example. Even though she didn’t say she

loved us, we knew she cared for us. Sometimes I think of her like a lioness with her cubs…I knew she

would defend us. She was very independent and had her own mind. As my mother got older and I left

home, we would say “I love you” to each other. I knew she cared for us dearly and loved her

grandchildren.

Because of the example that my father and mother set for me, I think I was more prepared to receive

the gospel when I heard it in 1977. It seemed okay for me to join the church, but my mother was very

upset with me when less than 10 years later, my youngest brother joined. Over the years, my mother

saw how the gospel helped me change and her heart softened. My mother lived to be 90 years old. I

had such wonderful conversations with her for the last 15 years of her life…spiritual conversations. I am so thankful she was my mother.