Someone asked if they or I knew Blair Gluba. Of course I knew BG and his family. When they moved, I thought I had lost them. Where are they now? I knew his wife and visited her after my mother died, not only because she was such a gracious Southern lady, but to get to know my mother's friend so I could retain some of the world I had known when she was alive. I know nothing about the relationship among my parents and him. I was acquainted with him, but just as a nodding acquaintance. My mother dearly loved his wife (the latter mentioned one time that she had no idea why SHE had been chosen but I think I know: she was the epitome of THE gracious hostess & mom really admired her for that! - it hearkened me back to a time of family & safety) and mom really looked forward to their visits on Sunday when they would bring his special chicken to share and they would sit and literally & figuratively chew the fat, talk about world affairs, & have their favorite beverages.
I wish I could be more helpful, but I think that BG & a M.C. Colonel were just God-appointed body-guards for mom once she was alone, & I will always love them for their making sure she was safely OK. After 34 years of marriage, at the end of his life, my dad's retirement pay went to someone else (a retired Navy nurse who married him after he had a heart attack). Financially it was extremely hard on mom to live on less than $400 a month, & it would have been harder if it hadn't been for those two, BG & the Colonel checking in on her & my brother George bringing in loads of groceries when she needed them. She was too proud to ask for help; southern ladies sometimes think others should be able to 'know' what they need, so they don't ask, they simply live on the kindnesses of others.
When dad's research in Guam had not found a cure for the the tropical diseases, like dengue fever, the whole detachment and we were sent to Klamath Falls, Oregon. The symptoms let up, perhaps because of the cold, so later in Virginia, at least those were not as painful as they had been in the tropics. Other symptoms of past stresses came to replace mom's earlier priorities, which caused a lot of pain in her own body as well as dad's, but she didn't complain. She focused on supplying her 'boys' overseas with reliable defense, tangible self-confidence in the midst of their trials.
She was always 'other' focused right up to the end of her life, just like her mother had been, getting up from her death bed to attend to a sick child. Mom was one of 13 children, and really missed the near constant sounds of a large family. She bought that little house on Woodland Drive when she barely had the $27 in her purse to have the title searched in Manassas, had the office built and provided a quiet place in the woods for dad and us to be safe. He had left WWII an emotionally wounded person. Often, in the middle of the night, my brother and I would be awakened by him screaming in fear, drenched in sweat. Now, they call it by a different name, but then it was 'battle fatigue'. He overreacted to noises, to irritations. These were family secrets, though. We didn't know that thousands of other post-war families were going through the same thing.
Sometimes, when she thought that her heating bill would not get paid, she would be awakened by a phone call in the morning asking her to "Sharpen your pencil, lady. We need a bid on some targets." Her life was saved for another month! When two young men tried to rob her & she was saved by some highway patrolmen arriving to inquire on some prices, she decided that that was a sign for her to close up. And she did; never went back out to the office, which sat there, the roof caving in in places, until I cleaned it out and up after she died. She had asked me to promise not to touch anything until then and to make sure the information was secure about the gun ownership/history.
When I looked later looked at her bank account statements before I burned them up after she died, I marveled how she ran her home with so little, and was so grateful that while she was alive I had told her that I admired her for her organization, and asked her how could she do all that when she could barely see (the Walter Reed eye doctor had operated on her wrong eye, and he killed himself later)? She was crippled so badly that she could barely sit for a few minutes, then she had to stand, then sit, then stand, etc. Brave-hearted woman..
Her heroic memory has helped me so much on and off in hard times. I want to take my dad's purple heart and put it on her grave in Arlington National Cemetery; she earned it, didn't she? She stood by her man and her country and is still a great inspiration to me, ...
