Mother: Random Sketches and Thoughts . . .

Douglas Mansion

Manistee, Michigan

Home where our mother Virginia Tibbs spent part of her childhood with her Aunt Anna Douglas. 

~~~~~

Today she would have been 97. 

She was born Aug. 12, 1921, in Chicago.  

From that point on, her life unfolded like a movie script, as she lived in the wilds of the west, grew up in Catholic boarding schools in Texas and Michigan and then returned West again to live the rest of her life and "raise horses."

As I think of my mother on this day of her birth, I wish so much that I had captured more of her rich random thoughts before she died. 

She left behind a legacy through her family and her art.  

In honoring Mother on her birthday, I'd like to share some samples of the thoughts and talents of Virginia Tibbs, a truly remarkable woman and mother. 

Happy Birthday, Mother! 

~~~~~~

In Mother's words . . . . 

Burnt Ranch, California

I started first grade there.

I can remember when the wild roses bloomed and it was hot, and the fragrance of those roses was everywhere.

I can remember saying good bye to my dad.

He was crying, and he had hurt his foot; we all seem to have foot problems in this family.  Anyway, I told him I was sorry I had stepped on his foot.

My dad built a house there (in Burnt Ranch, which is up in the middle of nowhere in Northern California).

Four of us siblings, Jim, Kevin, Mike and I, were able to join Mother on a road trip to California the spring of 2004 after our father died.

We visited Burnt Ranch and spent some time talking to the lady on the right, a Burnt Ranch resident. It was the first time Mother had returned since the late 1920s. 

I remember climbing up the side of the house and ripping my hand open on a nail.  I’ve still got the scar; it was horrible.

We had a greyhound and his name was Jack. Jack and I started to the store, and we met another dog; I’d never seen a dog like that; it scared me to death and I thought it was a wild animal.

First day of school; there were these cribbage boards; for some reason I was putting sticks in the holes.

I wasn’t in school there very long; my aunt whisked us off to San Antonio to the Ursuline Academy.

Her chauffeur was Voight Hofsteder....he must have been seven feet tall and skinny.

He was with her all the time; he drove a moonstone blue Lincoln.

She ordered one of those every year, and it had to be moonstone blue.

I remember some of those snakes; they were huge.  My dad used to kill the snakes and collect the rattles. It was definitely rattlesnake country.  It was awful.

I remember June and my two brothers being there.  The older one Jim was old enough to get married, so he left.  Francis was the younger one.

We also spent some time living in San Francisco.  I remember us walking along the ocean and June almost being swept up by the waves.  We lived in an apartment there.  

My dad was doing some kind of writing stuff for movies.  He did a little bit of everything, including mining for gold.  When we were in the Wallace area, he was taking care of a ranch and doing some mining.  

The reason he left the Midwest was that he had all kinds of interests and did not want to be stuck with one job for life.

When I was about 12 years old

I got most of my information from the papers.

I had a thing for Buck Owens when he was a young kid

Every year from the Derby I cut out everything I could from the winners: 

Twenty Grand

Equipoise

Thoughts after reading the first 12 pages of Seabiscuit.  I couldn’t help but think of my Aunt Annie. She got one of the first cars in Manistee.

Its back seat sat on the back porch after she had an accident where she said the car was “turning turtle.”  That meant upside down.

From there on, she always had a chauffeur.   She wasn’t going to drive any more

I couldn’t figure out what the thing was; I thought it was a couch. I always sat in that seat in the screened-in back porch.

___________

Some of Mother's art, samples of which reside in many, many homes, near and far.