Around perhaps 2005, I became an official Rosebud, complete with a signed certificate. I went to mom’s to show her and she was proud of me. See, she, was a Rosie the Riveter during World War II.
I will share the romantic back story further down the page, but for the main focus, here goes: during WWII, the men left their jobs to enlist in the armed forces—leaving factories, drafting, and more barren. This would not have happened if the United States had not been rudely drawn into another messy war when Pearl Harbor was attacked.
Mom saw a plea in the newspaper for women to enroll in Johns Hopkins’ newly formed School of Engineering for Women. Not hesitating, she applied, was accepted, and studied hard as a draftsman (drafts person). She was immediately offered a position at Martin Marietta and embarked on her first career. Four years later, with the chaos and destruction of war ended, she settled into a new role as a wife and later, mother.
I will fill in the romance later, I promise.
Dad died in March 1997 and mom sought ways to form friendships and soothe her grief. The largest and most fun was the newly formed Red Hat Society, and she was quickly shopping for purple dresses and large red hats. Life was good and enjoyable. I took her to several and had fun picking her up to hear all the laughter. One meeting someone mentioned the Rosie the Riveter membership and explained its purpose. Mom got an application and sent it in. She showed me her certificate a week later.
In reading her pamphlet she noted that daughters of a Rosie could join as Rosebuds and handed me the application. A week or so later, I was the proud owner of a Rosebud certificate! I purchased a potholder which I still use and a kitchen towel I used onto it fell apart. My sister never joined, time constraints. However, on a business flight she was surrounded with a dozen of so Rosies who had just been to their annual convention. Thet proclaimed Nancy an honorary Rosebud and it lifted her spirits for the return trip—along with a glass of merlot.
Now, back to romance. My grandparents were all from Finland, paternal side ended up in Warren Ohio and maternal in Baltimore Maryland. The steel plant in Pittsburgh was out of jobs so my paternal grandfather, Pappa to me, took the train to Baltimore to set up residence at the Finnish boarding hall where Mamma, my grandmother worked cooking, and cleaning. Mom would stop by on her way home from school to chat and eat a snack and walk home with Mamma.
One afternoon she walked in to see an older boy sitting at the counter. It was my dad, visiting his dad. Dad said when he set eyes on mom, he knew in two years he would ask her ask and later, to marry him. Two years later they started dating when he was able to come down for weekends. When Pearl Harbor happened, dad and my uncle Carl went to the recruiting station. Uncle Carl went directly to the Airforce an enlisted for a career. Dad claims he tossed a quarter in the air and that it landed at the Coast Guard, he enlisted for four years.
Before being deployed he asked mom to marry him and he slipped a ring on her finger. However, once overseas, mom got cold feet not knowing the future and sent him a breakup letter. He still wrote, Uncle Carl did as well—as a friend and probably to keep tabs on her. When dad returned, they reconnected and got reengaged. On a snowy Valentine day, they married at the Lutheran church and the rest is a story of love/
Thanks for sharing this, Jann- what I love is how easily we forget about Rosie the Riveters. I’m still confused as to who is the most likely ‘Rosie’ is. There seemed to be a few good contenders—but never a confirmed one. Anyhow, thanks for sharing the story about your Mom. I’ve lately been wondering whether elderly care is something that is becoming more challenging in America—especially given many people no longer stay where they grew up. And they no longer are in the same state as their aging parent. What do you think, Jann? 🤷♀️