Virginia Mae Bauserman Moran was a truly exceptional woman. I know, because I had the distinct privilege of knowing her my whole life. She was my mother. Virginia, affectionately known at "Ginny" (and beloved Grams!), was born November 18, 1919 and passed away May 21, 2015 at the age of 95. She was a true lady who epitomized the definition of class and grace. Ginny's story is quite remarkable. The Bauserman family farmed 100 acres in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia, in a tin-roofed frame house with no electricity, no plumbing and no phone. Water came from the cistern, heat from a single old stove in the kitchen, sanitary facilities were an outhouse and chamber pots and transportation was a horse. When their dirt road was too muddy to walk the 3 miles to school, her father took her in by horse or by sled when it snowed. Her mother was named Susan and after Mom, there came a sister Genevieve, called "Snookie". But Susan died when Mom was 4 years old. Susan's grandfather was Confederate Major General Samuel Jones and Mom was very proud of him. She showed us his picture in Volume 10, Pages 251 and 256 of the Matthew Brady's books we have on the Civil War. Her father James Earl remarried to Mary Frances Hoshour ("Francie"), a local school teacher, who bore a brother James Paul or "Bud". Mom loved both siblings dearly, but both of them pre-deceased her, Snookie in 1995 and Bud in 1979. Her father Earl built a home in the town of Woodstock in 1934 and they wintered in town and farmed in the summer. In 1947 they installed a flush toilet, but it so frightened my grandmother, that she refused to use it for several months. Virginia graduated valedictorian from high school and went to Washington D.C. to work for the government. She was exceptionally bright, but born before her time. She later lamented that the thought of college never even occurred to her, because "Girls didn't do that back then. They just graduated from high school, got married and had kids." She was also very pretty and when she changed jobs to work at Equitable Insurance Company, a tall good-looking mail clerk took one look and was smitten. Lowell Harlan Moran began courting her and even rode his rickety single speed bicycle nearly 100 miles from D.C. to Woodstock in one day just to visit her. My parents were married after a one year courtship and I often teased Mom that I was born in July and they were married in August. But to be fair, I came 11 months after the wedding. It was during WWII, so Dad went into the Merchant Marines and Mom continued to work while I went to a pre-school in an old mansion called "Altha Hall". My grandparents were shocked when I told them that my parents had put me in "Alcohol School". Dad returned and rose to Vice-President of the insurance Company while attending George Washington University at night. Mom got her teaching credentials and taught at a private school. We spent many weekends "down home" at Woodstock and dearly loved our family and the farm. Mom helped start a Cub Scout Pack and for 3 years was a Den Mother, putting up with a dozen little ruffians stampeding around her home for weekly meetings. For the next 5 years, Scouting was a big part of our lives as my folks often drove many miles taking us on monthly camping trips and once, even to Canada. Dad became a major leader in Scouting and received Scouting's highest award for service. They loved their travels to Europe and working in the Church, but most of all, they loved each other. I could be a real pain sometimes, but my folks knew how to handle me. After a well-deserved spanking, Mom told me that I would never know how much they loved me until I had children of my own. But I never appreciated whose wise words until I was much older and yeah, had kids of my own. One day the neighborhood bully grabbed my bike and I went home in tears. Mom told me to march myself up to his house and take my bike back. I was scared to death, but did as told and got my bike back. I didn't know that they were watching from behind a hedge to assure that all went well. A week later he jumped me again and I fought him to a draw. He never bothered me again. Not that I paid much attention to anyone else but myself as a teen, because I was exceptionally shallow and immature. Yet I remember Mom so well. I had a chance to see them at some of Dad's fraternity, social and business functions and you really couldn't miss her because even to me, she just stood out in a crowd. Mom had a big heart. When the Soviets invaded Hungary in 1956, some of the battered refugees made their way to safe haven in the U.S. One mother and her 15 year old son made it to our area and Mom took charge of getting them resettled. She worked tirelessly finding clothes and furniture and shelter. I remember the fearful look in the mother's eyes and the terrible burn scars on her son's legs. I remember the boys name: Laszlo "Latze" Stephan and I also remember how grateful they were to her. Dad's fraternity had a "miner's party" one weekend with tar paper on the walls and black wood shavings on the floor. A smoldering cigarette set off an inferno and four of the boys died. I remember that Sunday morning as we took in some of the shell-shocked kids and their remaining singed and dirty possessions. The acrid smell of smoke permeated the house, but Mom spent a week cooking, laundering and caring for them. Perhaps because she was a voracious reader, Mom was a quick study and picked up on things fast. She had a wonderful vocabulary and the ability to communicate with absolutely anyone. In casual conversation, she kind of sneaked up on you with her sense of humor and intelligence. You started talking with her and suddenly you were aware of the depth of this woman. Yet she was an extremely kind lady who made everyone feel at home in her presence. She was genuinely interested in every person and nearly every subject. When she talked with you, you felt like you were the only one in the room. Her smile was simply radiant and she was absolutely the most charming person I have ever known. When I first brought Nelda home to meet my folks, Mom reacted in feigned shock. "What are you doing to us?" she asked, "A Baptist, a Texan and a stewardess?" But Mom called Nelda her favorite daughter-in-law, ignoring the fact that she was the only one she ever had. Nelda loved her just as much as I did and she and Nelda had an incredibly warm and loving relationship. Heck, Mom was such a great mother-in-law that one woman commented that she "…would have married Jim just to get Ginny". Dad passed away from a heart attack at age 54 when Nelda was 7 months pregnant with Melinda and Mom was absolutely devastated. She limped along for a while until a wonderful man who happened to be the father of my best friend, came into her world. John Ashton revived her and together, they found new purpose in life. They traveled the world together and his extended family was forever bonded with ours. Mom, often with John, spent a lot of time with us in San Diego and we were truly blessed by their presence. When John died, Mom focused on our family and an occasional trip to Europe. One year the whole family went to France, where my future son-in-law John Vaughn popped the question to Melinda on the Eiffel Tower. We rented a 50 foot cabin cruiser and together with Nelda's sister Janice (who passed away the same day as Mom), and her husband Gary, spent a wonderful family week sailing the Midi Canal from Toulouse down to the Mediterranean. Mom's natural leadership was a blessing to our family. When her teenage son used to whine that he was bored, she would get after him, saying "Only boring people get bored." So you may be certain that when Mom was around, no one would ever be bored. She was always doing something interesting and she was always fun. We traveled to Hong Kong, Tahiti and Europe and backpacked in New Zealand. We ate at great restaurants, went to concerts, saw plays and with her guidance and example greatly expanded both the children's and our horizons beyond measure. She was extremely pro-active with the grand kids and they adored her. She was an early riser and we told them to give her some space in the early mornings so she could read her newspaper and drink her coffee. But the kids would come storming out of bed, often before dawn, surreptitiously peeking around a corner with little David intoning, "I wanna sit you blap." (lap). She was the victim of her own loveableness. We are very proud of both our children, but one thing really thrills my soul. I see reflected in Melinda the gentle sweetness of her mother and the charm, intelligence and sassy smarts that is so much of Mom. All three women are alike in many ways. I see it in their eyes, their smiles and in their bearing. David too, shows that same influence, but like me, he is just a man. He can never be a lady. Mom had a boundless capacity to love. She met John Ashton's Oregon family and fell in love with them. His daughter Helen became like the daughter she never had and she visited us several times in San Diego, the last only a few weeks before we lost her. Mom was an easy going, extremely stable person who never complained about anything. She was also a wonderfully optimistic person who, despite losing two great loves, always remained strong and positive. She had a healthy but gentle skepticism about life, which was embodied in an old Dutch adage she was fond of quoting, "Everyone's queer (out of step), but me and thee and sometimes I do wonder about thee." Another homily she liked was used whenever someone stumbled with something they were doing, but she always said it with a smile: "Ah well, too soon old and too late smart." That kinda rang true for a lot of us. She was a crossword puzzle aficionado (always doing them in ink), used impeccable grammar and without question had the widest vocabulary of anyone I have ever known. She felt the English language was the most beautiful on earth and should be treated with respect. She insisted that we all use it properly, as it was intended to be used. She spoke passable French and to my chagrin, made me take Latin because it was considered the root of the English language. I used to tease her saying "Only the good die young, so you'll certainly be around at least until you're 105." She reacted in horror saying she didn't want to hang around that long. Her only regret would be that she wouldn't know how things turned out in this crazy world of ours. Mom was in a senior care facility for the last 4 years and we visited her every Sunday after Church with fresh coffee and cookies. The hours we spent there were among our most treasured. Nearly every week the family took her out to dinner and drinks with her looking vibrant in her red lipstick and pearls. She didn't drink much, but she loved the camaraderie of an afternoon Happy Hour with a glass of her Wild Turkey 101. She thought it a "civilized" way to end the day. Her doctor agreed and wrote her a prescription for "Two fingers of Wild Turkey every afternoon." It's been a week now and I find myself moving numbly through the days in a painful haze. I can't shake the feeling that something is missing from my life. Nothing is the same and it will never be again. A light has gone out. But Mom was tough and resilient and we must be too. She would say that grief was OK, but not despair. Mom was our matriarch, our example and our love, but ya gotta let go when the torch is passed on. Without Mom, I guess we must remember how blessed we really are and focus on our wonderful family and the amazing grandchildren. We must resolve to hold everyone close with the same tender and loving embrace in which she held all of us. That's the best way I know of to honor her precious memory. In a memorial to Mom, the whole family is going back to her beloved Virginia this August for a couple of days. We'll stay right on the Shenandoah River at the Narrow Passage Inn near Woodstock. When we lay my Mom to rest, part of her ashes will go next to Dad's at the family plot in Woodstock and then we'll release her remaining ashes to the Shenandoah River as Mom requested. She will have security and love next to her beloved husband with a small part of her running free through the wandering river currents of the beautiful Shenandoah Valley. Then we'll visit John Ashton's family in Northern Virginia and later have an intimate diner at Maryland's Normandy Farm, our family's favorite restaurant. This is exactly the kind of family trip Mom would have loved. How I wish she could share this with us! But she will. She will live on through our memories, laughter and "Turkey Toasts" and always remain an intimate and integral part of each one of us. I gotta strive to remember that this isn't "Goodby", just "Till we meet again." Oh Mom. Thank you so much! It was a privilege to be your son! We will never not miss you!