Lily of the Valley
This Lily of The Valley art made me think of my mother, Barbara F. Humphrey (1928-2021). It is actually a large pin, mounted on green velvet, inside a well-made box with a glass lid that slides out. I found it at an elderly woman’s garage sale this past weekend. She wanted $8 for it, and told me it was from “the last century”. Turns out it was made in New York City in the early 1990s. The artist Michael Michaud is still active (https://www.michael-michaud-us.com/). The piece is hand cast bronze, painted in green vermeil, with fresh water pearls that dangle down off each tip. It notes on the back that is it number 393 out of a run of 750.
The pin itself is actually close to life-sized, which I should know as our front yard has a large area thick with Lily of the Valley. When the flowers bloom in May, the smell is astonishing, and the little white bells create a dainty carpet across the whole area. Over the years I would pick a huge bouquet and overnight ship them to my mother, as they were her favorite flower. She carried them on her wedding day on May 22, 1954. Now whenever I see something with a Lily of the Valley image, I think of her and the woman she was.
Mom was a complicated lady, raised by a first-generation German woman, Frieda Hermes Fallon (1898-1961). Her father, Martin Fallon (1893-?) was born in Ireland and raised in Boston. He inconveniently had a prior marriage and 3 children he neglected to mention to his new Catholic bride. When this came to light, Mom was around 8 and her sister Lois two years younger. Martin left Frieda and the girls, and moved away from Chicago. My grandmother moved in with her eldest sister Frances’ family, with Mom and Lois in tow. There was very little money as this was during the depths of the depression in the 1930s, and Mom had to take care of her sister and attend school. She became a “parentified child”, and simply got things done. She earned a scholarship to Mundelein College in Chicago, and won awards for her debate performance, particularly being part of the first women’s debate team to go up against West Point. (My children all just went “ah-ha! Yes, that must be where my genetic tendency to debate things came from.)
Mom had a strong belief in helping women, likely formed by her close attachment to her Aunt Frances who offered support during a difficult time in her childhood. Mom told me many stores about Aunt Frances, who seemed a remarkable character. As an adult, Mom volunteered at numerous organizations, including League of Women’s Voters, Planned Parenthood, and reading literacy groups, teaching adults how to read. She also would help women she knew who were in a bad situation, including daughters, daughters-in-law, nieces (and nephews), her sister, our old nanny, and numerous international women trying to immigrate. Most of this was financial and given as a gift.
Lily of the Valley is often considered an invasive weed as it is not native to our country. The plant can spread quickly, choking out weeds, like Creeping Charlie and Garlic Mustard. In my mind managing to smoother nasties is a fabulous side-effect of allowing Lily of the Valley to flourish. And, besides, none of us are native either, and growing roots in this country is what our ancestors have all done.
Whenever I see Lily of the Valley it brings a joy tinged with sadness. Sadness from losing Mom due to dementia during the horrid Covid-19 epidemic and missing her wisdom. Joy in the memories of Mom, the beauty she was, and her strong sense of supporting women. We need more women like Mom
