My Mother, Kathleen Ferris

My mother was a remarkable woman. She was born in 1928 in Sterling, Nebraska. Her parents, Tom and Wyma Lewis, were farmers. From them she learned the virtues of hard work and perseverance. She met and married Paul Ferris in 1948, a druggist from Omaha. My mother was widowed in 1953 when Paul was killed in an automobile accident. Alone, my mom supported the family and raised me, with the help of wonderful friends and family.

She started as a cashier at the local Sears. Within a few months she was a shift manager and few years after that she had risen up the ranks to be a district manager. She broke more than a few glass ceilings in her climb up the corporate ladder. Yet she always had time for me and for her charity work. She knew what it was to be hungry and she knew that what we do for others is what will endure after we're gone.

She was a sportswoman: an avid golfer and swimmer. We often would travel to Colorado to hike and camp in the mountains; but mother felt that continuing education was the key to happiness. She earned a Master's degree in Business when she was 43 and never stopped taking classes at the local college in subjects ranging from corporate law to ancient pottery. She nurtured my passion for writing and everything I write is ultimately a too-distant echo of her words.

My mother passed away in 2008. I miss her.

— Linda Ferris-White