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Memories of Dr. Jimmie and Jane Salato


A letter for the people of Columbia and Adair County:
Thanks for the Memories


By Carol Salato Myers

After the death of my mother, Jane Salato, I felt compelled to reflect on not only her life but my father's as well. I found it impossible to separate them individually because they were so much a part of each other. She was the last of the doctors' wives from a bygone era.

Dr. Jeffries, Dr. Loy, Dr. Nell, and Dr. Salato were names everyone knew. The doctors were not only colleagues but friends. Those friendships remained intact throughout the years. Their wives were also a vital part of the community.

My mom used to say, "When I die, no one will come to the funeral home because Jimmie was the one they loved." I always told her that wasn't true, that Mike, Nancy, and I along with our spouses would definitely be there and maybe her grandchildren. She always got a kick out of that. Her words did not ring true as droves of people ambled down the aisle at the visitation on March 10th. For a brief moment, I looked up toward the sky and said, "Mom, you were wrong again."



Simple people

My parents were simple people. They were the children of parents of modest means who worked hard for a living, loved their children, but never made great contributions to society.

My father certainly never considered himself to be a pillar of the community and neither did Mom. They just loved the people of Columbia and Adair County and were proud to be included among them.

Strangers embraced

I am sure it was not easy for my parents to move to a community where there were no other Italians they knew of and very few Catholics. I am also sure it was not easy for Columbians either. Some of Daddy's patients have told me throughout the years they were reluctant to see Daddy for the first time. I can certainly understand why being that it was so many years ago. Remember, this was 1948. All I know is my parents were so appreciative of how the community embraced them. Hopefully that was due in part to my parents being the kind of simple folks they were.

Humility: An important virtue

The most important virtue my parents taught me was humility. I cannot count the number of times Daddy would say, "Don't you ever think you're better than anyone else."

I know he and Mom possessed this virtue as well. They didn't care who you were - what race, what religion, or what background. I guess that's why I was always blind to prejudice. It just didn't exist in our household.

Making it right

Many times Daddy would come home from the office with vegetables from a patient's garden, a dozen eggs, and at least on one occasion, I even remember his bringing home a chicken. These were considered payments. The fact that he accepted the only way they could 'make it right' always made me proud. After Daddy died, several of his patients went to see Mom to settle their debts.

Mom always said, 'Jimmie would not want you to," so she never accepted their money. Daddy always said he was going to buy a Cadillac before he died but never did. I think I knew why. He didn't want anyone to think he was able to afford such an extravagance. He was not a man rich in terms of having money but rich having a loving family and good friends. I know that was how he and Mom would have wanted to be remembered.

Forever after kind of love

Mom and Daddy had what I called that 'old-fashioned, forever after' kind of love. Yes, they argued, mainly when one of us was sick and Daddy would have to 'doctor' us. I remember once he was fussing at Mom about our being sick. Finally, Mom had enough and said, "Jimmie, I did NOT make your children sick!" From that I learned couples can still argue and it did not mean instant divorce.

The never forgotten word

During the last few months of her life, Mom's memory had faded significantly. Many memories of her past ceased to exist. That was so sad for us. She was our final bridge to the past and the core of our family. For those of you who have lost both parents, you will know what I mean. But one word that never left her memory was 'Columbia.'

There was that spark of recognition you could see in her eyes or the way she tilted her head that made you know something had registered when she heard it.

It was difficult for her and for us to move her to Windsor Gardens, an assisted-living home in Campbellsville. She realized it was time, but I do not think she ever gave up hope she would one day return to Columbia.

Home at last

That hope finally became a reality on February 16th when she entered Summit Manor Nursing Home. Nancy and I took her there from the Health South Rehabilitation Hospital in Elizabethtown. She kept asking where we were taking her. We never told her.

As we three entered her room, and Nancy and I helped her into the chair, we asked almost simultaneously "Mom, do you know where you are?"

To which she replied, "Why yes, I'm home now."

We could only speculate as to how she knew where she was. It may have been her seeing a face she had known from the past, a recognizable voice, or just an overall sense of familiarity, but there was no doubt she knew that she was truly home.

Our family wishes to express our love and gratitude to the citizens of Columbia and Adair County for giving our parents a life filled with happiness, love, and countless blessings, but the Salato children's lives as well.


This story was posted on 2009-03-22 16:00:46
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The Salatos: An old fashioned, forever kind of love



2009-03-22 - Bowling Green, KY - Photo Salato family photo.
Carol Salato Myers writes: "This is on Mom's and Daddy's wedding day which was August 11, 1943," She adds of her parents, Dr. James and Jane Salato, "They were married in Bowling Green, Kentucky. I'm not sure whose house it is," and asks, "Gosh, weren't they young looking? Mom was 19 and Daddy was 26. I always told Mom that if he had longer hair or I had shorter hair we could be twins."

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