Another Autumn with My Mother

By Thomas James Martin - Published - Suite101 - October, 2005

My Mother loved the Fall. I suppose that is why my thoughts turn to her this October, the first one since her death.

Many years she sent me some fallen leaves in her letters; red and gold treasures from times and places that have now moved on and now exist mostly in my memory.

She loved the crisp air and smoky mists; the leaves falling in shallow circles, the glory of the colors, especially the maples and oaks that graced our yard. She loved making pumpkin pies and persimmon puddings for her two boys.

Perhaps one reason she liked autumn so much was that it was the season of her birth. She was born on a farm on November 6, 1921 near Liberty, North Carolina.

Her father, Hassell James, named her after one of the movie stars from the twenties and thirties, Ina Claire. Hence, her maiden name, Ina Claire James.

Ina Claire, the actress, was funny and ebullient, a person who one reviewer called the "queen of high comedy." Ina Claire, the mother, was a dark-haired brunette, serious, even grave at times. She was nothing like her namesake, a favorite of Flo Ziegfield and his Follies, and one of the few actresses to make the transition from the "Silents" to the "Talkies."

She died the evening of December 12, 2004 of complications of leukemia in Raleigh, N.C. She was 83. My brother, Bob, and his wife, Linda tended her lovingly and faithfully for almost a year prior to her passing.

She had a hard life. She knew tragedy as a teenager. Her father died when she was fourteen; they were very close. I do not believe that she ever got over her loss.

She always spoke with such love and reverence of following him around on the farm, going fishing with him in the small creek on their property. She admired his love of the Classics and facility with Latin even though he was not educated beyond high school (in an era when mostly the wealthy were able to take advantage of higher education).

She worked day after day for minimal wages in a hosiery mill in Liberty to provide for her two sons. Sometimes, she went in on second shift in the summer after working in the tobacco harvest during the day. Thinking of how hard she worked and sacrificed for her family, I feel a deep sense of appreciation but also much sorrow for her sometimes bitter struggles to help raise her family.

She was very active in the First Baptist Church of Liberty, especially with the mission group and other charitable activities. Her deep spirituality also led her into the study of Edgar Cayce, the "sleeping prophet," and other spiritual figures. She enjoyed meditation and studied correspondence lessons from the Self-Realization Fellowship in California, founded by Paramahansa Yogananda.

My mother was one of the most sincere, most intelligent people that I have ever known. She also expressed herself phenomenonly well in her letters.

My roomate happened to read (quite by accident) one of her letters to me while I was in college. He was so impressed with her insight and sincerity that he remarked"

"Your Mother seems like a wonderful person, an incredible woman."

That she was, that she was:


In the clearing springs of April,
In the grasshopper blur of midsummer,
I thought of you
And of the quail's calling "bob, bob white"
in early autumn
And the leaves covering the graves of Macedonia
In November.

I do not believe that you went away anywhere except in brightness.