My Three Sons

My Mom and Pop, newlyweds, 1940

Ike and Betty (my parents) had three children, all boys. My Mom always wanted a girl. She was the youngest in her family and had lost her Mother when she wasn’t quite two years old. She grew up without a Mother and thus always wanted a girl of her own to make up for her lonely childhood.

Mom on the left with her two older brothers, Randy and George in 1928 - her older brothers tore the head off of her big doll later - Mom never forgot

My Mom got married when she was sixteen years old to an 18 year old transplanted hillbilly whose family immigrated to southern Chester County in 1930 to work picking fruit and vegetables on his Uncle Donald Byrd’s farm near Unionville, PA.

My dad's ID card from his job at Lukens Steel Co. 1941

The tall, young, blonde haired gangly man with the big smile she married was the fifth child of a family of eleven boys. There was a twelfth boy (a twin) who died at birth. My dad had ten brothers and no sisters.

The eleven Tipton Brothers at the Tipton Family Reunion, Downingtown, PA 1960

On November 9, 1941, I was the first born of my parents' three children. My Mother already had a girl’s name picked out for me (Louise, her middle name) if I was a girl. Since I wasn’t a girl so she named me after a popular movie star of the day, Ronald Coleman. My father wanted to name me after him, Isaac, but she thought “Isaac” was an ugly name. She told him “You’re not naming any of my children that ugly name.”

Ronald Colman the movie actor and baby Ron 1941

On April 8, 1943 my brother Isaac, Jr. was born. As you can surmise, my Mother relented in her opposition to the name “Isaac” and my father was able to name a son after him. In retrospect, it proved to be a good choice because Isaac, Jr. was more like my father (blonde hair, personality, and skills) than either me or my youngest brother.

My middle brother Isaac, Jr. 1944

On June 10, 1944 my brother John was born. He was named after his uncle John who was missing in combat during World War II. Ironically, after the war ending one year later Uncle John came home. My Uncle John was in a German prisoner of war camp, from which he escaped twice and was recaptured twice. After coming home from the war, Uncle John married his sweetheart, my Aunt Peggy. His first child was a boy which he named John. Thus, that is how our family came to have three “John’s” in the immediate family; Uncle John, my brother John (who we always called “John”) and Cousin John (who we call “Johnny.”)

Uncle John Tipton (on the right) in his paratropper uniform 1943

My youngest brother John, the "pet", 1945

After giving birth to three sons my Mother told my father that she wasn’t going to have eleven boys like her mother-in-law. From what I understand, just we three boys were quite a handful for Mom back in those days. I find that hard to believe but that is what she tells me. I’m going to take her word for it. Note how I keep my distance from my brothers in the picture below.

The three Tipton Boys; John, Isaac and Ronald 1948 at our Pop's favorite Packard

Growing up we had the textbook sibling relationships. I was my Mother’s favorite. Isaac, the middle child, wasn’t given as much attention. John, the youngest, was my father’s pet, which I highly resented. Since I was the oldest and the Crown Prince, I felt that I should have been given all the paternal attention. But it was not to be. Looking at old photographs now, I can tell by the body language where I stood (usually a step or two apart from my younger brothers) and where they stood.

My Mom, me and my two younger brothers at Aunt Ruth and Mary's home in Compass, PA 1950

There are many stories to tell about growing up in this typical below average middle class household. I would like to think we were step above the lower class but just on the threshold of middle class but in actuality we were almost dirt poor. Those stories I will tell in future postings.

The Terrible Tipton Boys sitting on the stoop at their apartment building at 120 Washington Avenue, Downingtown, PA with their friends Johnny Johnson and Patty Robinson (girl in back unknown)

The story I will tell you now is that I just got off the phone with my Mom a few hours ago. She is now living with my youngest brother John in South Carolina. She is 86 years old and doing well for a woman of her age. She has her aches and pains and her memory isn’t what it used to be. But she is comfortable, safe and secure. Mom took care of her “three boys” for many years.  Now it is our turn to take care of our Mom.

Brother John helping our Mom out with a puzzle at his home in South Carolina 2009

Growing up my brothers and I had our differences, to say the least. It was usually me against them. Actually, I had no problem with Isaac. My problems were with John because I thought he was a spoiled brat, being the pet and all. Maybe he was. Sometimes we got into arguments that turned violent. I remember one time the three of us got into fisticuffs at the bus stop (I can still remember gravel embedded in my elbows when we were rolling around on the road trying to land a punch on each other.) As we were grappling around on the ground, the school bus pulled up. The school bus driver opened the door and let in the Stongs (the other kids who caught the bus where we caught it) and pulled off, leaving the Tipton boys to sort things out on the ground at Boot Road and Skelp Level Road. Uh oh, we knew we were in trouble then because we MISSED THE BUS! That meant we had to go home and try and explain to Mom what happened. Mom was not pleased. We got pinched real good for that misbehavior. My Mom gave up hitting us with her hands because we were too big and she always ended up hurting her hand so she gave us those twisty pinches instead.

Here I have my brother John in a headlock which is where I tried to keep him most of our childhood. 

We were thankful that our only punishment was pinches. She could always call out the Big Guns and say “I’m going to tell your Father.” THAT is something we DID NOT WANT TO HEAR. She drove us to school and said “If it every happens again I’m going to tell your father!” It never happened again. As you can see Pop was a big man and we did not want to anger him.  You see that belt he's wearing?  Holding up his pants wasn't the only thing he used that belt for.  We felt the sting of that belt more than once.  Nothing like a little corporal punishment to get a rowdy, misbehaving boy's attention.

"Pop Tipton" with his namesake, Ike, Jr. 1950

This is just one of the many anecdotes of growing up with two brothers. There are many, many more. I try to keep my blog postings short and interesting but when I start recalling and telling stories about my earlier life.

There are so many of them and I hope to tell most of them before I check out.

Mom with her hands full of three young sons.  She used to farm me out for a few weeks in the summer to Aunt Mary and Aunt Ruthie in Compass which was where this piture was taken in 1948

I’ll sum up this posting by saying that both of my brothers are alive and doing well. As well as one can expect of a 68, 66 and 65 year old. We all like one another. Oh, occasionally my middle brother and I have a disagreement about politics (they’re conservative, I’m liberal) but we try to stay away from that subject because I know I’m never going to change his mind nor will he change my mind.

Me and Isaac, Jr. in calmer times 1948

All I know at this time of my life is that I am so thankful to have Isaac and John and my brothers. We all like and respect each other. We have a common goal in seeing that our mother, who has done so much for us, is comfortable in her old age.

Mom doing a little afternoon reading at her new home in snow free South Carolina

My father died August 22, 2000 at 80 years of age. He and my mother were married for 60 years. My father was not a rich man. For most of his life he worked as a foreman in a trailer assembly plant. He stopped working when he was 52 years old and my Mother went to work on the frozen cake layer line at Pepperridge Farms in Downingtown, PA. My father had occasional carpentry jobs finishing houses with his friend Harry but he never earned any significant money. My Mother was the bread winner for many years.

Isaac W. Tipton, Sr., aka "Pop" sitting in front of his garage at home in East Brandywine Township, Downigntown, PA 1998

My father may not have let a lot behind in money but he left behind what I consider to be a much more valuable treasure. He left a legacy in his three sons. If I can be permitted a bit of chest thumping, I think he and my Mom did a good job of raising their three sons. In fact, I know he did.  Just look at these three below.  Wouldn't you be proud to call them your sons? 

The Tipton Boys with their Mom 2005 Exton, PA - the only professional portrait ever taken of this family

I am proud to call Isaac and John my brothers.

John, Ike, Sr., Ike, Jr. and Me 1989 at Pop's home in East Brandywine Township, Downingtown, PA

Mom's New Bathroom

On Saturday, October 17, 2009 my brother John (the Baby Brother) and his wife rented a large van and drove from their home in Greenville, South Carolina to our Mom’s home in Downingtown, Pennsylvania where she lived with my other younger brother Isaac, the Middle Brother.

My brothers and I had decided to move our Mom to the milder climate of Greenville for the winter. Mom was reluctant to move of course. She would be moving from the house she had lived in since 1958 and from Pennsylvania where she had lived for all of her eighty six years. However, she was showing the early signs of dementia that both of her older sisters suffered. She also has maneuverability problems and was increasingly in need of another woman to help her with her personal needs. Thus my brothers and I decided that my brother John’s home was the best place for our Mom at this time in her life. My brother’s occupation is a care pastor for his local fundamentalist Baptist church so he is well acquainted with the special needs of his elderly parishioners and very good at taking care of those needs.

John’s home already had a separate “mother-in-law” suite that he built for his mother-in-law who lived with his family until she passed away a few years ago. The suite consisted of a bedroom with a skylight to let in natural light. It also had a bathroom, small living room and a small kitchenette. It also had a modest deck that looked out on the enclosed backyard. It is just the kind of apartment that I would like to have when I’m in my eighties, should I ever be so fortunate to reach that age.

As expected, at first when Mom moved in she was ready to go back to her longtime home in Pennsylvania the following week. We explained to her that it wasn’t in her best interest to go back until at least the winter was over. After this past brutal winter, our decision to move her south was now looked upon as absolutely brilliant. After a few months Mom became more comfortable with her new living quarters at my brother’s home. However, there was one problem. Mom didn’t use the kitchenette. Our Mom, the Cook, no longer liked to cook. That was a shame because she made the best southern biscuits. Oh how we miss those biscuits. Her pie crusts weren’t too good (cardboardy) but her biscuits……ah, they were heaven.

The other problem was the bathroom. Mom has a problem with her legs. She is very unsteady on them thus getting in and out of a bathtub is very difficult for her. Plus, the bathroom area was a bit confined for her to move around in with her walker.

As the oldest brother it is not easy for me to admit this fact but my brother John is a very clever man as well as being an excellent carpenter. I've always assumed that since I was the Firstborn, I got all the smarts, good looks, and personality of my parent's three sons.  But, as I've grown older I have to reluctantly admit that both of my younger brothers have skills that I can never hope to possess. In fact both of my brothers are good builders as was my father. Unfortunately, I didn’t inherit that carpenter gene from my Pop. I can’t build a thing but I can cook and garden. Neither of my brothers like to garden but Isaac likes to cook. But I digress.

My clever brother John surveyed our Mom’s bathroom accommodations situation and came up with the solution. He decided to take out the kitchenette that wasn’t being used and, instead put in a nice long vanity counter.

Next he put in a type of bathtub that my Mother could walk into and lower herself by mechanical means. Don’t ask me how it works but John says the contraption now makes it much easier for Mom to take a bath. Of course now that Mom is living in a house with two other women (her daughter-in-law and her single adult grandchild), she has assistance for her personal needs instead of her big, awkward, and squeamish sons.

Baby Brother John also put in handrails for Mom to help her maneuver herself around her apartment.



Now, after six months Mom is quite comfortable in her new living quarters. She rarely talks about “going back home” to Pennsylvania. I think she now realizes that she is living in her new home. Sometimes she inquires about her cat Molly, a calico feral cat that she rescued about fourteen years ago. Molly always slept with my Mother. Mom used to call Molly her “hot water bottle.” But Molly has taken up with my other brother, Isaac. No need to worry about Molly. Besides, my Mother has a new friend in Maggie. Maggie is my sister-in-law's lovable mixed breed dog who has graciously consented to share her home with my Mom.  Maggie loves having a new friend to keep her company all day.  I think Mom feels the same way.

Admiring the pictures of Mom’s newly remodeled bathroom at my brother’s home I couldn’t help but think and hope that I would be as fortunate to have such nice living arrangements when I’m in my twilight years. I wish.  But for right now, I am very happy for my Mom that she has peace and comfort at this time of her life.  She worked hard all her life to provide for her family and this is the least we can do for our Mother.  Thank you Mom for all that you have done for us.  We all love you for than we can express in words.  You deserve nothing less than the best. 

Mom and Ike

This morning I had a long talk with my brother Isaac, who lives with and care for our Mom at our old family homestead in Pennsylvania. I haven’t been able to get in touch with them for a few weeks. We discovered the problem was that the phone was out.

Mom is 85 years old now. She has been in declining health ever since our father died August 22, 2000. They were married 61 years. Each one was the half of the other. Much of her problem seems to be depression. She also has a balance problem and is on a number of medications. Both of her sisters (one of which is now deceased) developed dementia. I’m afraid the signs are now showing Mom is also developing dementia.

I have two younger brothers. I live in Delaware, and my youngest brother lives in South Carolina. My Mom lives with my middle brother in Pennsylvania. We would prefer for her to move to my brother’s place in South Carolina where she can receive more professional care but she prefers to stay where she has lived for the past 61 years. I understand her need to be in her comfort zone. We will try to accommodate her as long as we can. She has her cats (Molly and Rusty) and her favorite bed set up in her living room. When she's not sleeping, she likes to watch “The Price is Right” and the Fox News channel. This is her routine and it gives her comfort.

Both my younger brother and I are worried about the burden that is being placed on our brother Ike. He has his own medical problems that he has to monitor. I’ve talked to him and he says he is managing. He loves our Mom and takes excellent care of her. Ike has the patience of a saint but there is always a limit before one becomes overwhelmed.

We’re facing a dilemma that our Mom needs to move into a more controlled environment but we also want to respect her wishes to live at her home. Ironically one of the things our Mom was most concerned about was being a burden when she became older.

After talking to Ike, I called my other brother in South Carolina. We also discussed Mom’s situation and we agreed to take it one day at a time. That’s all we can do now. I guess we always knew this day would come.

Note: Picture is of Mom and Ike circa 1954