That is a saying my mom used to use a lot. Or maybe she didn’t, and it was my brother who said my mom said it. Being the youngest of six children, well I don’t always have the facts straight.
But I could picture her saying it, as she had a tough life, yet always appreciated anything to be optimistic about. Granted, she wasn’t a credulous person, so we couldn’t just make stuff up and lift her spirits. But she was always ready to acknowledge a sincere effort.
I was fortunate to have her live long enough for me to be a comfort to her — when I was in my 30s. For most of my childhood and adolescence, we were at loggerheads and it was a frustrating time for both of us. But eventually I broke free of her authority (a story in itself) and when I returned on my own terms, we had so much to say to each other.
She loved it when I’d use stories from what we called “the Blue Book,” Jewish Wit and Wisdom, edited by Nathan Ausubel. She loved stories, and there were some very wise stories in that book. I could actually feel the light going on in her head when I’d apply one of the parables in the book to whatever situation she was talking about. Made me feel good.
My mom was not in good physical health by that time, and yet she had a lightness of spirit in her later years that was never evident during the difficult years when she was struggling to raise six children with a problematic husband and no money. (Not to diss my father, because he was quite an interesting character, but this story’s about mom.)
She told me once her biggest fear was not of suffering misfortune, but becoming bitter over it. I thought that was very wise of her and was glad to see she won that struggle. Her ability to find the light in the darkness increased even as her body wore out.
Anyway, her birthday would have been Sunday, May 3. She would have been 93 (born in 1916). She died in 1992, doesn’t seem that long ago, but time is funny that way.
Happy Friday to all. It’s raining here in the Big Apple and I’m still taking the subway … so there, Joe Biden!
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… everywhere. Wouldn’t be here without ’em.
She sounds very wise.
Everytime you mention her, I feel a beautiful energy that makes me smile.
Good memories and good Friday Kitty 🙂
If she was always ready to acknowledge a sincere effort, I bet she would have suggested putting a rec button on this essay, right? 😉
Forever, in fact. That’s the year I began transition.
for some reason, I cant remember what tripped me off. She passed in Nov 2004 (or was 03?) I need a calculator. She had just turned 89 the month before, that October. She was born 1914.
A “tough old bird” she used to say.
I am the youngest of four girls. One thing I have found odd-interesting is how, well, some stuff I just didn’t really figure out until more recently. In particular, that My Mom and I always had a certain jibe with our humor. I knew that, but I didnt really realize that it was unique to me and her, that it was not there with my other three sisters.
My Dad was a real storyteller, very gregarious and warm and, well, very “Leo”. But he didnt really have all that many great stories to tell. It wasnt until after he died (1999) that I started to realize how many untold stories Mom had in her. She lived and worked in New York City during her (single) twenties. Never did hear much about those days!
The humor thing, this is the one that cracks me up, its kinda… well, you might understand why I dont “get it” when they talk about Biden being gaffetastic. I guess its a New England Irish thing.
Dad had had congestive heart failure for years, with episodes, attacks, and at one point, the doctor told my Mom (and my sister who lived in same town) that “the next one will likely take him out.” Well, it did. So I get the phone call, and I make my plans to go to Florida, with my two year daughter in tow. And we do the whole thing, (another story!), but… well, everyone knew The Story: Mom and Dad had just gone out to one of their favorite spots for lunch and were heading home. They stopped for gas and it was while they were at the station that he basically just had a heart attack and died. Dead before he hit the ground, they said. EMS, the whole works. (boo hoo, may he rest in peace)
So the part, the remark that Mom made later, to me and only me, as an aside quip, was: “Well, thank God, at least he had paid for the gas already.”
I laughed out loud.
Thats my Mom.
(She’d kill me for telling you this.)
May we all be fortunate enough to maintain that “lightness of spirit” you mentioned.
My mom died many years ago, when I was only 22, so we never had much opportunity to develop our relationship as two adults. Guess that’s the reason I love reading diaries like this one, to see the wonderful interactions between adult children and their moms.
My dear mother-in-law died just four months ago at age 92. We were blessed to have her in our lives for so many years, but thinking of Mother’s Day this year isn’t too easy.
Hugs to all the moms!
ruin this with details of my Mom.
Let the good memories roll.
It takes years to sever the cord that binds you to a mom to be able to see the whole person in context. I’m glad you were able to relate to each other person to person before she died. She sounds like a remarkable woman. The wisdom mom’s teach does not always come in the form you want. Love and humor both help as you wind your way through the complexities that life and motherhood bring, long after your children are grown.
I find myself talking more and more to my mother now that she’s gone. I appreciate her more now. I did not have the perspective to understand her whole when she was alive. The gifts she gave were not the ones I expected. The ones that taught me how to live and to have the courage to make life beautiful. I always thought of her as superficial but in reality her spirit was amazing. When she was dying she said “This is not a festive season.” As I grew up she used to say with a sigh, “Life is just one damn thing after another.” She dealt with the damned things with gusto and looked at life as an adventure that never bored.
Thank NPK, reflecting on mothers in the light of their own lives, makes us understand the best gift of all life.
mine also born in 1916. passed away in 1972.
cheers to mothers.