My Mum would have been 78, today. She went home five years, ago. I got the Scottish name from my Dad. My adventurous spirit from my Mum. She was some lady. Very proper, but no push over. Yes, Jessie Robertson Boyce Malcolm was as tough as they come. This picture is of her and Dad, 1957.
My mother challenged me when I was in Junior High, that if I graduated from High School with honors, she would give me a plane ticket to England for me to spend the summer there. Dad had met Mum when he was in the Air Force stationed in England for the Berlin Airlift. Mum's Mum eas born in Inverness. Her Dad was English, with Scottish roots.
I claimed my prize at graduation and went to England. I met my Liverpool family. I stayed two weeks with my Mum's uncle Jim Robertson. Uncle Jim became a piper with the Scottish Liverpool Kings as WWI was ending. Served 20 years in India, brought back to the UK when Dunkirk fell. During WWII he was air dropped into France for commando raids. Worked his way back to the coast and would be picked up by British submarines. Then he repeated it over again. After the war, he served in Palestine. He retired when Israel became a nation.
He told me about the 21 men he lost in his command when the King David Hotel was bombed. It was shown in the movie Exodus. Fifteen years later as I traveled through Israel finishing four years of working in Kuwait, I went to the King David. I toasted the 21, with single malt.
That summer of 1970 with Uncle Jim, he had told me to go down to the local tailor and have a kilt made. I asked him what tartan. Boy, he said there is only one, Robertson! Foolish me, I didn't go. But in 2004 when I was in Inverness, I purchsed 9 yards of Robertson plaid. My first trip to Scotland was that summer in 1970.
My Mum was the greatest Mother, ever. She tempered Dad's displinary ways with her mercy. I could talk to Mum about anything. Mum had a big heart and was always caring for others. She was still making her rounds taking care of the sick and infirm up to her last few days here. Only her family and closest friend knew she had cancer. When the last stages came and she was hospitalized, my Dad, my sister, Denise and myself were with her. She looked at us and said I don't want to puit you through this. I am ready to check out of here. With that she raised her thumb. The Angel of Mercy came in minutes and took her to her eternal reward. Thank you, Jesus.
We miss her.
Mum's birthday in 1997.
