Lady Barbara

Barbara Louise Skinner was born on March 8, 1920, in Northwood New Hampshire to a chicken farmer and a housewife. She had a younger sister named Blanche who smoked and drank and ended up in jail after a car accident resulted in the death of the driver of other vehicle. Blanche was flat chested and had psoriasis so bad that it ate up all her fingernails. Yet, Blanche was the favorite child. Her parents were resentful instead of proud that their eldest not only graduated high school but went on to attend Gordon College of Theology, and even less interested in her unsolicited celebrity status as a radio star in Boston in the 1940’s.

Lady Barbara was the head brain behind a popular radio show, called "The Childrens’ Gospel Crusade". The three page article that was written about her in the Moody Monthly magazine described how she had been handed the task of putting a show together, and how only a short year later there were countless diners and truckstops in the Boston area that shut their grills down at 11:00 every Saturday. They turned on the radio, and turned it up loud, so that everyone could listen to Lady Barbara coax the little kids to sing. Best of all, they loved to hear Lady Barbara tell her famous stories. One year for her birthday she received over 1,200 cards from kids all over northeastern New England and Ontario.

My Mom was a star.

During the same time, there was a hansome Commander in the US Navy who fell in love with her, and who also happened to be a recent widow with two young boys. Mom always told us that the two boys approved of the marriage because she made good brownies and maybe they would get a baby sister. Which they did - two of them, my sister and me.

Dad retired from the Navy in 1962 when I was just three years old, and most of the family packed up and moved from Philadelphia to Rhode Island, where Mom had a job as Director of Christian Education waiting for her at a small Christian College. As part of the deal, Dad was offered a position as Superintendent of Buildings and Grounds.

Even though she wasn’t on the radio anymore, it still felt to me like Mom was a celebrity. She was the center of everything, a gracious hostess to countless wedding showers and receptions for the college kids, and always in charge of the many Sunday school classes at one or two churches at a time. Vacation Bible School was a big deal - hundreds of kids, most of them city kids who’s parents were grateful for a place to keep there youngsters the first two weeks of summer vacation, and it was free!

But that is not why they came. They came for Lady Barbara.

Each morning for those first two weeks of summer, she would line us up outside Woodlawn Baptist Church in Pawtucket, Rhode Island, and march us into the sanctuary to the tune of Onward Christian Soldiers. We would salute the US flag and the Christian flag before enthusiastic renditions of He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands and Fairest Lord Jesus.

And then, oh and then! After several songs and a prayer, Lady Barbara would stand in front of us and speak her famous words:

“Shoulders back, deep breath. It’s time for a story.”

The last night of VBS was a spectacular event - kind of like the Baptist Oscars. All the kids and teachers would dress up and they and their parents would attend the Final Program. The festivities began with classroom tours, where parents could review the workbooks about the Bible stories we had studied. And the crafts! Two weeks worth of beautiful artwork on display! Baskets made of popsicle sticks, piggy banks made from Clorox bottles, coffee cans decorated with masking tape and brown shoe polish! It was remarkable. Then, everyone gathered in the sanctuary for THE PROGRAM. Each kid had some kind of little piece to say, and every class sang a song or two, and Lady Barbara was the beautiful MC.

She was especially glamorous the year I was seven. She had made time that afternoon to get her hair done, and wore the same beautiful mint green gown that she had worn for my big brothers wedding. It had a scoop back, with layers of wispy chiffon that shimmered when she walked, and thick ribbons of green satin around the cuffs of her sleeves. Her shoes were Cinderella meets Naturalizer - sensible silver flats that glistened when they caught the light.

A city kid sitting next to me that night asked me who whispered to me how pretty that lady was. “that lady? I said. She’s my mom.” I was swelling with pride and feeling almost as famous and as important as I knew she was. Supreme happiness. That was my Mom. She was famous and beautiful and after this we were going to Howard Johnson’s for chocolate ice cream.

Hey Mom today I am remembering the glamour of you, the celebrity of you, wishing to be only a small bit as lovely.

Happy 89th Birthday! I am missing you.