Just hours before her 78th birthday, Barbara Land (my mom) died from Cancer. Most everybody believes their mom is the best mom. There’s no mom scale to judge greatness – but mine was in the upper echelon and most definitely one of a kind.
Before we get to the heart of her story, here are some fun facts about her time on earth:
On her 3rd birthday, she celebrated with cake and ice cream as the streets of Chicago filled up for VE Day (America’s Victory in Europe at the end of WWII). Her memory was ridiculously good so she had vivid recollections of the ticker tape celebration.- As a 9 year old growing up in small town Joplin, Missouri, she went to the ballpark to see an 18 year old phenom named Mickey Mantle play for her hometown minor league team, the Joplin Miners. Her uncle sold Mickey the suit he’d wear the 1st time he went to New York to play for the Yankees.
- As a high school sophomore, she was in the choir with a girl named Jane Hillhouse. Both Jane’s son and mom’s son would end up studying Journalism at the University of Missouri. They both ended up performing in front of a camera, although one became just slightly more famous. Six years after Jane Hillhouse left high school she gave birth to Brad Pitt. A few years later mom had me.
- Mom always extolled her own mother’s musical talent. Grandma sang in nightclubs in Chicago and off Broadway in New York. Mom downplayed her own talent, even though she played the piano by ear.
And finally, mom even dated a Dallas Cowboy player before she met dad.
Those are only asides to the real Barbara Land, the woman who was both teacher and mother to hundreds, if not thousands. My sisters and I of course referred to her as ‘mom’ but the truth is, we only had blood rights. She spent her last 26 years hosting hundreds of English Language 
Foreign Exchange students from around the world. She was mother to all of them. It wasn’t enough she’d spent many of her previous 30 years teaching middle school and high school science (both in-person and on closed-circuit TV). It wasn’t enough that, at the age of 30 and with a 2 year old son, she took in her husband’s younger sister and 2 brothers after their mother died suddenly. It wasn’t enough she’d pretty much raised 3 children of her own – the last one in high school. Teaching was her love and imparting wisdom was her nature – so being a mom and a mentor never stopped.
Over her last quarter century, we estimate around 300 exchange students stayed at her house. She made them dinner every night and required that they sit with her at the 
table – at least for an hour or 2. She peppered them with questions to improve their English but it wasn’t just English they learned from mom. Even though most of them were beyond high school, her students told us she taught them about life. In her final days, one of them told me she was as much a mother as his own mom. Another (45 years her junior) said mom was her best friend.
Even though mom was beloved, she was as tough as nails in her tiny 5’1 pencil-thin frame. During the late 60’s school 
integration, she taught at a pretty rough high school in Waco, TX. She told stories about times they’d pull a gun or knife on her during class. As scared as she might’ve been (in just her mid 20’s), she’d strongly tell them to put their weapon down. She’d go around the class and ask them to put their knives and guns in a box and she’d return them after class. One time they put a dead mouse in her desk and, when she found it, mom waived it front of the classroom (by its tail) and proclaimed, “Who put this mouse in my desk?”
Even though mom was divorced (with no immediate family within 600 miles) and 3 kids under the age of 12, we never saw an ounce of fear. If you knew her, you knew she commanded respect… and she got it (Aretha-type ‘Respect’ R-E-S-P-E-C-T).
When mom was riddled with tumors in her last few months, she refused treatment. To no one’s surprise, she took the constant pain every day and complained very little. We saw her body shivering and shaking. She’d sometimes blurt out “Uhhhh!” when she felt a piercing pain – but as always, she was completely fearless and doggedly determined. She worked until the very end. In her last few days, we’d ask her if she felt pain (as we tried to regulate her medication) and her answer was always a defiant and an emphatic, “No!”
As a mother, you couldn’t ask for a bigger fan. She was me and my sisters’ one person PR Department. I’m sure all of her friends and relatives grew tired of her singing our praises.
My career is the perfect example. She knew I loved sports and she encouraged me to pursue Sports Journalism, as I was finishing up high school. In fact, it was her idea originally. Four years later when my very own University Journalism Counselor discouraged my pursuit of sports Journalism, mom never wavered for a second.
Even though she didn’t watch much sports, she’d call or text excitedly if my favorite teams won – or disappointedly if they lost – because she knew it meant so much to me. The one area of sports we both bonded over was the Olympics. But of course she loved the Olympics. It brought the world together!
She could be an enigma and a dichotomy, too. As much as she loved learning about the world, she hated leaving her house. The only time she left the state of Texas in her last 30 years was for my college graduation. The last time she flew on a plane was for my sister’s graduation 16 years ago. When you asked about her reticence to travel, she said, “I don’t need to travel. I bring the world to me!”
It’s easy to forget that being a teacher is also being a listener. Mom always listened. If my sisters or I mentioned the name of one of our friends or acquaintances, she knew their whole story, even if we’d only mentioned them once or twice. Out of the blue she might ask how this friend was doing or if we’d heard from that friend.
No matter what was happening, she was always there to pick up the phone. As long as we wanted to talk, she would listen. She wasn’t just that way with us. She was that way with everybody. Mom wanted to know everything that was going on and none of her curiosity or caring was lip service. It was who she was and what she was about.
It was no surprise that mom’s final job title was ‘Homestay Host’. Those words fit her like a glove. She loved her home and lived in the same one for her last 47 years. She stubbornly refused to let illness move her from it. She definitely put the ‘Stay’ in ‘Homestay’. The 2nd word is ‘Host’… and mom was the best at it. She loved having people over and relished in getting everyone together. Her Halloween parties were a yearly event and she was disappointed if any of her friends or students couldn’t make it.
It was only fitting she died the night before her birthday and just 3 days before Mother’s Day. That was the week each year that belonged to her. But let me say that even during that big week, she never asked for much or expected much. She lived simply and as my sister said, “As long as I can remember, she has done everything for everyone, always putting herself last – but THAT is what brings her the greatest joy.”
Mom fought tooth and nail until her last breath. Did she ever!!! My sisters and I were witnesses. She was the strongest person we knew. Hours after that last breath, her many students around the world sent her messages wishing her happy birthday. They never forgot her. All mom ever wanted was respect and she earned it every day she lived.
-Robert Land
5 READERS COMMENTED
I won’t forget her.