My Mom

Back in April 2010, I noted the passing of my father, Henry ‘Hank’ Raufer – an engineer who had raised a family of eleven children, moved that family to England in the 1960s and then to Brazil in the 1970s, and proceeded to lead us on various adventures and explorations around the world. Notably missing in that narrative was any indication about how someone who was doing full-time engineering work and traveling the globe much of the time could possibly have pulled off such a feat – let alone the imposing physical task of actually bringing those eleven children (including two sets of twins) into the world, and then providing the care and nurturing necessary to raise them in such a constantly-shifting environment.


Theresa (Finley) Raufer

The hero of that endeavor was, of course, my mother Theresa – who passed away on July 20th, at home and surrounded (literally!) by those very same children & family & loved ones. Like my Dad, she too was raised in a Philadelphia row house (like those in the movie Rocky), and hers was a childhood even more affected by the economic hardships of the 1930s Depression. She met my father one morning on the “el” (Philadelphia’s rapid transit system, ‘elevated’ in their portion of the city) – she on her way to work, and he heading to his very first day of class at the Drexel Institute of Technology (now Drexel University). They were married for more than sixty-one years.

If my Dad provided the outward look and adventurous spirit necessary to tackle the world, my Mom provided the glue that kept our family closely knit & together — offering a loving and caring environment that was a respite from that same world’s trials & tribulations. Our home was always a bustling place, however, with so many children around and a constant stream of friends and visitors…. & she was always at the center of things, making sure that meals were cooked, that school work was done, that bruised egos were assuaged, and that visitors had a place for the night.

She had a sharp sense of humor, & in my mind I can even now hear her teasing comment about this posting: “Well, that’s all great…. but how come Hank gets a sexy photo from his 20s, and mine is from my later ‘distinguished’ years? Looks like you’ve managed to get things exactly backwards once again, Roger!”

But of course, regardless of age, to me and my siblings she always was (and always will be) our beautiful, beautiful mother…. and we already miss her terribly!