MOTHERS’ DAY
An edited version, of the first article I sold to the Los
Angeles Times, it was published on May 12, 1985, my son’s 36th
birthday..
I am a Jewish Mother who does not take
Mothers’ Day lightly’ Oh, I can do without the ribbons, roses and sweets. For me, the day is a tribute to my mother, a
celebration of my own motherhood and an acknowledgement of my daughter, the
mom. A kaleidoscope of memories
brightens the occasion, blending laughter and tears into bittersweet
recall. Today, I am a child again
searching for the right words to express the love and gratitude I feel.
But I am also an
adult who remembers the sweet smell of an infant daughter and the dazzling
excitement of child number one, our son. Once again I search for words of gratitude
and love. On Mothers’ Day, more than at any other time, my inner child and my
adult reality are in harmony.
Mother is
forever! My mother died many years ago
in 1957. Hardly a day goes by without a thought of her, a remembered
conversation, a confidential chat, a shared chore. She is never far from me.
Mother’s years of surveillance gave birth to a patience that was never
ending. While we children acted out our
stages of impatience, short tempers and ugliness, Mother patiently awaited the fulfillment
of her expectations. Hopes stained by
disappointments, health blemished by illness, plenty diminished by Depression’s
deprivations never discouraged, disheartened or defeated her.
She understood
the special-ness of children. To her,
no child was ugly, dirty or unmanageable.
Tears had to be dried carefully, tenderly; she understood that the sun
was waiting to shine through. Her joy
was complete when she coaxed a smile from an unhappy child.
Mother was
extraordinarily flexible about certain things and adamantly stubborn about
others. Truth was an absolute. Truth forgave our misdemeanors; lies were
always discovered and severely punished.
“Silent treatment” was her weapon of choice. The pain I suffered when communication halted, was intense. Mother’s flexibility allowed us to learn and
enabled her to change her mind. I
learned early that she was vulnerable to the word “fair”. Her advice and wisdom were usually on
target; she always assumed she was correct, she usually was!
As I look ahead
and remember Mother, I also recall my mothering. The day becomes, for me, a celebration of the tough,
indestructible, infinite love I share with my children. I hope that some of the patience,
understanding and flexibility flowed from my Mother through me to them.
I disagree with
the cynics who denigrate Mothers’ Day.
It is a celebration. I am a
proud mother who has experienced disappointment, discouragement and
deprivation. But there always is hope that health, dreams, patience and understanding
will prevail and prevent an erosion of love; that calls for a celebration!
Hugs and kisses
we exchange are the receipts for that love.
The cards, gifts and endearing words are, perhaps, the thank-you
notes. Every mother should have a time
when she feels special. We contribute
richly to our offspring, responding from our individualized qualities to
theirs. Some of us specialize in
cookies, others in athletics, music, storytelling or math. All of us have sidelines in soothing scraped
knees, healing hurt feelings, listening to lovelorn stories. We major in granting permission or with holding it, raising objections and demanding
obedience. For some of us there is
another legacy. Remember I said I was a
Jewish Mother.
The adjective
and noun, part of the American vernacular, join to describe all the mothering
qualities I have discussed and more. A
Jewish mother worries more, protects more, aspires (pushes) more, expects more
and in her own mind is more culpable.
“Don’t be a Jewish Mother!” means stop worrying, stop pushing, stop
coddling, slow down. Jewish mothers
wear guilt like a second skin, blaming themselves for the child’s shortcomings
and at the same time shout: “How could you do this to me?” Jewish mothers assume an awesome
responsibility for the totality of their children’s deeds and misdeeds. One would think there are no other
influences upon a child. That’s
nonsense!
Not all Jewish
mothers fit the stereotype. Today’s
woman no longer depends on her mothering and culinary skills for status and
identity. Jewish mothers and their
counterparts understand today that nurturing, loving and letting go is what
mothering is all about. In the final
analyses, we open doors to allow the child’s aspirations, fulfillment and efforts
to go through. No, I do not take
Mothers’ Day lightly. I delight to
remember my mother, I relish the opportunity to celebrate the love I share with
my kids and rejoice in the continuity, privileges and rewards of motherhood.
Happy Mothers’ Day!
