I’ve tried writing this particular story three times, and all three times it fell victim to the delete button. It either didn’t feel right or detracted from the main focus of our August State of the Industry report on women in leadership roles in the office technology community. But I’m going to push through with it this time, in honor of the person who inspired me to write on the topic.
Violet (Vi) Cagle is the reason I chose to discuss the battle for women to gain more equity in leadership roles. My mother was never an executive; in fact, she never rose to a professional level in any industry. An unending parade of medical conditions, led by heart and kidney disease, resigned her to life as a homemaker.
Mom lived an extremely hard and somewhat sad life. Perhaps her greatest mistake was the deplorable man she chose to marry, and that poor decision would come back to haunt her repeatedly during the entire 17-year ordeal. She finally parted ways with him when I was just four, leaving behind a trail of abuse that took on every form imaginable…and sometimes unthinkable.
The hardships continued for her throughout my childhood and into my 20s—frequent trips to the hospital, a medical record that includes at least six heart attacks and several angina episodes, several bouts with kidney stones, including the largest on record ever removed at our local hospital. She bore six children, but would always note that passing stones was infinitely more painful than birthing. It was all set against the backdrop of abject poverty.
Despite it taking every ounce of the undamaged portion of her heart to make it through the maze of life’s unending horrors and provide for her children, my mom never flinched. She never bemoaned the lack of support from her ex-husband. She never wallowed in self-pity. She never asked for help. She never waved a white flag in surrender. Every time she took a punch—and not all of them were of the figurative variety—she bounced back to her feet and kept plodding ahead.
I can count on one hand the number of times I saw her cry, and two of those occasions were when her parents passed. She was the ultimate Baby Boomer, I suppose. While masking or holding back one’s emotions is now considered unhealthy, the upshot is I learned that we all have more intestinal fortitude than we realize. We all have the capacity to push past the pain and sorrow life dishes out.
Mom was flawed, far from perfect (though she is in my eyes), but the beauty of her as a person was how much she was loved and respected within the community. Warm and friendly, Vi’s laid-back, unflappable manner was widely embraced in the tiny southern New Jersey township of Pedricktown. When she sat on the front porch, it had a magnetic effect, often drawing in a half-dozen people or more who would amble up and chat for an hour or so. Talking and laughter often punctuated warm summer nights as she held court in the community. She was authentic and natural with no pretense, never tried to impress anyone. Everyone loved her company. I marveled at the respect other people showed her, this poor, single mom without a dollar to her name. Vi was rich with love. I longed to be just like her.
A magnificent thing happened not long after she turned 50. She truly became a pillar in the community, assuming the role as president of the town’s volunteer ambulance squad. It was an honorary role, but she spearheaded many of the squad’s fundraising initiatives. She would sell flowers on the corner of the town’s main intersection every Easter. It was fortunate that Pedricktown is tiny population-wise, as cars would pull up to buy flowers and end up parked at the intersection, chatting with her for 10 minutes.
Vi helped organize the town’s annual Christmas tree lighting, with children helping to decorate, and a tree burning initiative, both of which served to unite residents. She also spearheaded the township’s Block Buddy program for child safety. Any time there was an activity to help support and celebrate Pedricktown, she was there to help.
But perhaps her crowning achievement was serving a leading role in the creation of Pedricktown Day in 1988. It was one of the earliest community celebrations, which have now become commonplace. For nine years she worked countless hours organizing the event, securing vendors for food, games and entertainment, along with minor and local celebrities.
When mom passed away, the township committee passed a resolution commemorating her many contributions to the township. She would be gratified to know that Pedricktown Day is celebrating its 35th anniversary this October—securing her legacy in the hearts of all those who knew her.
Sept. 1 marks the 25th anniversary of her passing, and as a hardcore momma’s boy, this time of year always ushers in a period of crippling sadness. She’ll never know the profound impact she had on me as a person and a parent. I’ve never met anyone who possessed her strength of character, her grace, her dignity. She sailed through an unforgiving ocean that pounded her wave after wave, yet she stood calm, relaxed, happy and content. Especially content. She accepted life as it came, warts and all, and took control of her life in the final 12 years in a way that was nothing short of astounding. She was, is and will forever be my hero.
Vi Cagle died penniless on Sept. 1, 1998. In the end, she took with her only those things she could—love and respect. She lived a life that brought value to others. That’s my idea of a leader.
