Marilyn’s Family History
My birth father’s parents and grandparents left Ireland and came to America by the way of Ellis Island. My birth mother’s parents came from Ireland/Scotland entering America by way of Canada.
My adopted parents were quite proud of me, their Irish lassie. My grandfather on my mother’s side were ranchers, specializing in cattle. My grandma was the home maker, which included making their butter, sauerkraut, cottage cheese, bread … you name it.
I attended 2 room schools from first grade up to 8th grade. We pledged allegiance to the flag, sang with gusto God Bless America. Right after recess was our favorite time. The teacher had us put our head on our desks while she or he read us stories. Stories of pioneers, Indians and of course Little House on the Prairie. We also learned about respect and honesty as well as reading, writing and arithmetic.
Through the years I would hear my parents talking about different wars and presidents. When I grew-up I was so busy cooking, cleaning, canning, sewing, gardening and parenting that I had no time to concern myself with who was president. I heard that Eisenhower was good, a few in-between were so so. I got interested in world events when Regan became President, and the German wall came down. Everyone liked Jack Kennedy, but definitely Johnson was a no. The Bushes had fun family outings and then came Obama. Our first black president. We were excited that he would bring together the different ethnic groups. That didn’t exactly work out too well … and so here we are. Biding President Trump good-bye and God bless. Four exciting years, if one can ignore the negative happenings during that time. A president that genuinely loves America and we the people.
And today? It is a solemn day for many. Bewildering. Shocked. Unsure of the future. Many are hopeful for the future. Prayerful.
But in spite of the chaos of this week, one thing I know and treasure. I am an American. I love this land of ours. I love what the statue of Liberty stands for. All my life I have enjoyed its freedoms, feeling blessed that my ancestors came to America. This is where my focus will be; God bless America. I have deep respect for those who have gone to war so that others could enjoy all that America has offered. My prayer; God cover this beautiful land with your mercy.
MM January 20, 2021
Early this morning I was humming a song from childhood: Jesus Loves Me. Suddenly I remembered why I have always loved that song. When born I was put into foster care (Ed and Alma), years later they became my parents. I was with them until I was 3 years old, then back to my birth mothers home. There I met my sister Beverly who was 8 years old. During the 2 years I lived there, I was a stranger in a strange land. I went from being hugged and cuddled to not touched. I was just there….until Helen died when I was 5. Long story short, I was then back with Ed and Alma, my mom and dad via adoption. First month there I went to Vacation Bible School and heard the song, Jesus Loves Me.
My adorable grandtwins, Owen and Olivia. Three and a half now. Loved, cuddled, secure, laughter. Suddenly I could see very clearly what it must have been for the little girl I once was. The emotional damage, fears, insecure, rejection.
My sister…whom most of you know our story…retreated into herself all those years and also didn’t know the true meaning of love or security.
Today we both are blessed with our families and the knowledge that Jesus does really love us….forever. And my children grown? I daily thank the Lord for the love and security they add to my life.
Do the scars remain? Yes, they are there. They show up once in awhile before they are put away again. We never know what others have endured, their emotional scars (or physical) that have contributed to who they are today. Shows me once again, do not judge….leave that up to God who yes, loves us and understands the things we carry deep inside.
The picture was taken by my adopted mother when she brought me up there to leave…to say good bye…she thought, forever. She left me with curls, got me back with them cut off. That’s ok…it grew and she was back to curling my hair.
Marilyn Robinson Moshos
Some years I include all the father’s in the family. This year I want to focus on my birth father (who died when I was 1 year old of TB) and my daddy who raised me. I have been told that George was a very kind and gentle man. I remember nothing about him but am thankful that he cared so deeply. My daddy….Eddie Robinson….was gold plated!! I was daddy’s girl….no matter how old I became! My dad was always so cheerful. I never ever saw him lose his temper, never a cuss word, always ready to help others, a fantastic cook, and always and forever in love with Jesus. He was 93 when he went to ‘sleep’ that night…..his head of hair still thick and wavy. His mind was still alert. Was he perfect? Of course not….he would say what he thought, with a smile on his face, sometimes to my embarrassment. After his death, a pastor suggested taking on a trait of my daddy’s and carrying it on. Hence, I tease and try to always smile. I don’t do it as well as he did, but I am doing it in honor of the bestest daddy. Happy Fathers Day. I love you.