AshG
Easy target
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- Nov 5, 2008
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My mom passed away this Wednesday, April 21, at the age of 75. Sitting in the hospice room alone, holding her hand as she passed, was the hardest thing I've ever done.
Both of my parents were Volunteer fans (Dad is still with us). But for my mother, it was a labor of love. She has been a severe arthritic since her early 20s. By the time I moved off to Hess Hall for my freshman year, she had fingers on both hands fused, several vertebrae in her neck fused, and had both knees and hips replaced.
That made it all the more special when she actually made it to the games with my dad to see me march in the Pride of the Southland Band. She wouldn't take the handicap seats, she and dad sat down in the middle of the throng. It was a physical sacrifice on her part, but one she was glad to make.
After my time in the Pride ended, the phone calls began. My mom was a kind and gentle woman who found something kind to say about everything and everyone, except when it was football time in Tennessee. I could expect a call or two during each game where she questioned the lineage of a coach or the vision and judgment of a ref.
She was equally a fan of the basketball teams and thought Pat Summit was a national treasure. She often knew the players names better than I did, especially on there men's teams.
I joked with her in her final hours that I'd be extremely thankful if she could ask God to lift the curse on the football program when she saw Him. I don't know if she heard me or not, but I like to think she did.
Mom never earned a college degree, but she helped make sure I earned mine. And when I went off of Oregon and Mississippi for my Masters and Doctorate, she reminded me to remember which team to cheer for first every time season came around.
Here's to you, Opal Glenn. Thank you for keeping me on the straight and narrow my whole life. And thank you for convincing me to move away from home and enjoy some freedom at UT instead of taking the easy path and staying home. There's got to be a room with checkerboard walls of Orange and White in your mansion above. Love you, mom.
Both of my parents were Volunteer fans (Dad is still with us). But for my mother, it was a labor of love. She has been a severe arthritic since her early 20s. By the time I moved off to Hess Hall for my freshman year, she had fingers on both hands fused, several vertebrae in her neck fused, and had both knees and hips replaced.
That made it all the more special when she actually made it to the games with my dad to see me march in the Pride of the Southland Band. She wouldn't take the handicap seats, she and dad sat down in the middle of the throng. It was a physical sacrifice on her part, but one she was glad to make.
After my time in the Pride ended, the phone calls began. My mom was a kind and gentle woman who found something kind to say about everything and everyone, except when it was football time in Tennessee. I could expect a call or two during each game where she questioned the lineage of a coach or the vision and judgment of a ref.
She was equally a fan of the basketball teams and thought Pat Summit was a national treasure. She often knew the players names better than I did, especially on there men's teams.
I joked with her in her final hours that I'd be extremely thankful if she could ask God to lift the curse on the football program when she saw Him. I don't know if she heard me or not, but I like to think she did.
Mom never earned a college degree, but she helped make sure I earned mine. And when I went off of Oregon and Mississippi for my Masters and Doctorate, she reminded me to remember which team to cheer for first every time season came around.
Here's to you, Opal Glenn. Thank you for keeping me on the straight and narrow my whole life. And thank you for convincing me to move away from home and enjoy some freedom at UT instead of taking the easy path and staying home. There's got to be a room with checkerboard walls of Orange and White in your mansion above. Love you, mom.
